#truly i could watch these three specifically swing at stuff all day

[haomnyangz]

continue to be a big fan of tuc fight segments that r just mo tak hana and mun being a feral little tag team

bonus feral behaviour:

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.  WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide  RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif  of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all. 

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms. 

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization. 

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him? 

You’re not so sure. 

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows. 

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed. 

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did. 

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?” 

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that. 

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you. 

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes. 

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise. 

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well. 

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows. 

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments. 

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary. 

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight. 

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise. 

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s. 

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face. 

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.  

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth. 

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self. 

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first. 

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups. 

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features. 

Oh, you loved this man. 

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane. 

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway. 

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. 

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself? 

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on. 

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.” 

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car. 

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant. 

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you. 

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass. 

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass. 

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit. 

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks. 

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe. 

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear. 

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs. 

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck. 

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush. 

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river. 

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river. 

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!” 

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is. 

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.” 

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.” 

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song. 

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off. 

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign. 

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device. 

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen. 

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line. 

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?” 

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?” 

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.” 

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred? 

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend? 

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate. 

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell. 

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird! 

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at. 

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?” 

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words. 

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?” 

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.” 

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut. 

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead. 

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again. 

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account. 

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?” 

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now. 

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook. 

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“ 

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.” 

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” 

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms. 

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing. 

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes. 

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.” 

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat. 

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment. 

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze. 

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river. 

“I thought he was cool before.” 

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you. 

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth. 

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor. 

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?” 

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?” 

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own. 

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.” 

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.” 

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling. 

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen. 

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud. 

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief. 

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship. 

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man. 

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot. 

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim. 

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either. 

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.” 

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”) 

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes. 

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.” 

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement. 

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.” 

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes. 

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself. 

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone. 

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura. 

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.” 

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end. 

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.” 

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly. 

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is. 

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead. 

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them. 

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.” 

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.” 

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr. 

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet. 

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again. 

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue. 

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey. 

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see. 

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck. 

Of course. 

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss. 

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it. 

And you’re all too ready to act on it. 

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy. 

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw. 

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare. 

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him. 

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds. 

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair. 

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips. 

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit. 

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders. 

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you. 

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull. 

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around. 

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you. 

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up. 

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view. 

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings. 

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you. 

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely. 

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise. 

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth. 

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness. 

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest. 

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor. 

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes. 

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air. 

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead. 

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions. 

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been. 

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table. 

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt. 

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again. 

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs. 

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true. 

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low. 

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you. 

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you. 

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix. 

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin. 

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction. 

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper. 

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust. 

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly. 

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface. 

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed. 

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy. 

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why. 

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home. 

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you. 

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad. 

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying. 

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses. 

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes. 

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside. 

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds. 

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly. 

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?” 

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder. 

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you. 

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit. 

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you. 

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different. 

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap. 

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out. 

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm.��Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath. 

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds. 

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.” 

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly. 

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic. 

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom. 

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet. 

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums. 

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?” 

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?” 

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you. 

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house. 

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise. 

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors. 

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.” 

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag. 

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[gyusfavlibra]

THIS IS MY WORK! PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ON OTHER SITES/APPS!!!!

Warnings: +18, smut, fingering, hand job, sex in bathroom, language, jealousy, fighting, arguing.

Y/n and Sarah sat quietly on Kie's bed as they waited for Kiara to stop degrading the lavender dress she wore while standing in her large mirror. Mrs. Carrera coming through the door to make sure the girls were all dressed. "This is disgusting."

"I know it's just horrible."

"I'm asking you guys to just relax and go to a fun party."

"I look like a bourgeoisie pig."

"I think you look beautiful," y/n said while shrugging at Kie. She just gave a smile back to her, still hating the look no matter what compliments were given.

"Will you please not worry about socioeconomic injustice for one night?"

"Mom, people not three miles from her have no power, no running water, and we're going to Midsummers."

"That's so tone deaf."

"Y/n," the mother scolded at her niece. "Do you know how hard we had to work to get into the Island club?"

"Yeah, mom. How could I forget? You had to grovel for, like, ten years--"

"Twelve years, and we also had to cough up a huge chunk of dough-"

"To keep up with the Joneses-"

"No, so you had the same experiences that I had as a child."

"But weren't parents as teens out, like partying, getting drunk, making out in the backseats of their cars at drive in movies," the cousin listed while putting her things in its bag. "Getting pregnant."

"That doesn't sound fun," Sarah added.

"Do you girls even know what the Island club is?"

"A factory farm."

"For debutantes," Y/n raised her eyebrows.

"It's a nice place, with nice people where you can do fun stuff."

"With out-of-touch rich people, while the island sinks slowly into the ocean."

"Water filling the poor's destructive lungs while the wealthy ones get away on million dollar boats."

Sarah sat quietly laughing on the comfy blanketed mattress. Mr. Cerrera sighed, saying one last thing before walking out. "Okay, I want you to put on your party face, girls, if you want to live."

"Did your mom just threaten to kill us?"

"Maybe. I think so," she nods as she turned around to the duo, fixing the flower crown that sat on her cousin's head. "You nervous to see Rafe."

"Why did you have to bring that up?"

"I was curious. I know it's only been two days, but-"

"Hey, he broke up with me. So if he wants to talk, that's in his duty. Not mine. I did nothing wrong."

Sarah got off the bed, swinging on it's pole. "Except flirt with JJ, or so he says."

"I was not...flirting with JJ. He has a crush on Kiara. I'd never."

"But Rafe doesn't know that."

°°°°

*flashback*

"What if she doesn't like it?"

"She'll love it. She's hippie."

Y/n and JJ sat on John B's porch, smoking a blunt. The girl was trying to help him do something nice for Kiara so JJ could ask her out without feeling weird. He's liked her for the longest and he was finally ready to tell her how she feels.

"Alright, now practice what you're gonna say."

Just as Y/n finished saying the statement, her own boyfriend, Rafe Cameron showed up. Standing behind them listening in.

"Okay, uh, hey I have to tell you something...uh important," the blonde began speaking, using hand gestures because of his nerves. "I really really like you. Like not like friends like, but I have feelings, uhm, strong feelings for you. Because you're like super hot, andnyou're like a really cool chick. So I was wondering if maybe you'd wanna...go out with me."

"Yes, t-"

"What the hell!"

The manly unknown voice shocked them both, their figures jumping at the sound because they thought they were alone.

"Rafe, what're you doing here?"

Y/n asked confusedly as she stood from the steps. The Kook just scoffed and walked back out. Ignoring her question. She shared a glance with JJ before going to follow after him.

"Hey! Where you going? What's wrong?"

"A pogue!? Y/n, seriously?!"

"What're you talking about?"

"You're cheating on me with a pogue?" He shouted. Y/n scrunched her eyebrows, looking at the unnecessary upset individual.

"What do you mean cheating? I'm not cheating on you. We were just talking."

"Bullshit. That's bullshit! I heard it all."

"Rafe, it's not like that. Jj was just-"

"I should've known better. I should've known," he fumed. His right foot swung to kick the dirt near his truck that he was so very close to getting into.

"Known what?"

"I should've never trusted a pogue. I knew something like this was gonna happen. You were just gonna throw me away like Sarah did, Topper. Right? Huh?"

"You sound ridiculous. I was never throwing you away. I was helping him out."

"Yeah, while you're at it. Might as well help sleep with him too."

Y/n scoffed, taking a step back from the angered boy who's brain had just functioned what he said. Part of him regretted it very much. But the other part thought you deserved it because of his cheating accusation.

He opened his vehicle door. Stepping one foot inside. "We're done."

The girl just laughed with held tears reaching for the openess. She turned around to head back inside as Rafe just drove off.

°°°°

"Hey, no tearing up today. Go to this stupid thing and show him that his little cheating accusation act didn't hurt you at all. You're stronger than that."

"Thanks, Kie."

The girls finished up their last minute touches. That includes sweeping their dresses with roller for no hair, any makeup redos, or hair finishes. The ride to the country club was quiet. Well, y/n was quiet.

This would be her first time seeing Rafe since their break up a three days ago. They've been doing everything in their mighty to avoid each other. And it definitely worked. But like her friend told her, she wasn't gonna get worked up. Letting Rafe see her weak was like telling him he was right about everything. But he wasn't.

"Jesus, Kook land."

"I forgot how packed this thing is every year."

"Well, let's go. I gotta walk out with my family."

The Cameron family walked out with their heads high and the Kook crowd cheered for each one. Y/n kept her eyes gazed to Kiara since they were in the middle of a conversation. Not caring if that family came in or not. That excludes Sarah.

Rafe watched from his spot by his dad, as they exited to outside. Breath hitched when he saw Y/n and her dress. It was a dark toned red, had tulle, and a revealing  chest opening.

A red flower crown on her head, complimenting her beautiful down hair. She looked amazing and hot to Rafe. He had to clear his throat before excusing himself.

"Hey," the red dresses girl heard from beside her as a hand landed on her lower back. She removed it before her eyes retracted to theirs. Kie just pursed her lips before leaving to hangout with Sarah. Y/n internally screaming that she left her there.

"What do you want?"

"Uh, you look nice."

"Okay. Thanks. You don't too. What do you want?"

"Nothing. Just saying hi."

"Bye."

"Wait, wait, wait. Why are you mad at me? Shouldn't I be the mad one here?"

"Why?"

"Because of what you did," he said with furrowed eyebrows. Y/n shrugged.

"I didn't do anything."

"Do- do you not remember what happened on the cut three days ago? The fight."

"You slut shaming me and accusing me of cheating with JJ. That? Yeah, I remember that."

"Accused? I heard you."

"Heard what exactly?"

"JJ, was telling you he liked you and thought you were a cool hippie chick, which you are not. You're not hippie. And then he asked you out and you said yes. As soon as I walked in."

Y/n stared at him blankly. Before bursting out laughing. A few guests behind them staring with a look that showed they weren't used to loud talkers or laugher. "Oh my god. You thought? Jesus that's absolutely hilarious."

"What is?"

"That you think- you think that JJ was confessing feelings to me. Whew that's rich."

"I heard it, Y/n."

"He wasn't confessing anything to me you shit head. He was practicing for when he asked out Kiara."

Rafe was confused. Majorly. Inside and out. "But she-"

"He likes Kiara. And she's my cousin. You think I'd really hurt anyone like that? How low of me do you think? Have fun at this party."

Y/n walked off to go look for her disappeared friends. Not wanting to spend another second in a spot with someone who was so rude over something he knew nothing about. Just assumed. Never asked.

As she walked down the corridors of the porch that many people stood on drinking, a hand grabbed her shoulder, turning her around. Her eyes fixated on the blonde in a black tux and a bow tie.

"Holy shit, JJ. You scared me. What're you doing here?" She asked as she hugged him.

"Well, Sarah somehow convinced her dad to let me in tonight to hangout with Kie."

"Have you seen her?"

"I was just looking for her myself. C'mon. She's probably inside."

She grabbed his hand. Pulling him inside. They found Kie just minutes later with Pope. He was working the grill with his dad. Sarah was getting raided by Topper about their own stupid shit. Y/n decided to go get herself a drink and maybe find someone to dance with.

The straw rested on her lips as she stood against the porch railing. Gazing over all the people who say around laughing, probably bragging about their money, summer vacations, their older kids getting into a good college. Typical kook things.

Her eyes focused on a specific couple talking off to the side. Her eyes burning a whole in the back of Rafe's head as he tried to flirt up a storm with some Kook she didn't know whatsoever.

Her body was fuming. Was Rafe really gonna sit in front of her and flirt with a whole other girl that isn't her. Just a few days after their breakup. It's like he's trying to play victim. And she's had it.

"Hey, Sancho. Lassie."

The brunette Rafe was talking up a storm to laughed. "I'm sorry who are you?"

"Oh, you gonna introduce me to your side piece here?"

"Would you stop? We're just talking."

"Talking? Yeah, okay," Y/n laughed. The girl just looked at her dazed. "Hi, I'm his girlfriend. Y/n. And you, yeah you're excused."

Rafe was truly enjoying this scene. Internally rooting for Y/n. He wasn't gonna object to that fact that she called herself his girlfriend. Because now that he knew the truth, it changed his perspective.

"Who do you think you are?"

"I already told you. Wh- can you not hear correctly?"

"He said he was single so, why-"

"He lied. So, you can go away now- Rafe. Let's go. We need to talk."

"What're you his mother now?" The rando questioned. Y/n turned to her and gripped her face.

"If you wanna keep these teeth, then I suggest you stop talking. Go find somebody else's boyfriend to mack on."

She dragged Rafe by his hand into the upstairs private bathroom. Locking the door behind her. "What're you doing?"

"Just having a friendly conversation. There a problem?"

"You were flirting, Rafe. That was flirting," she paced. Hand against her for head.

"Like you're any better. You lied to me."

"I've never lied about anything."

"You said JJ liked Kiara."

"Yeah. He does."

"Then why is he holding your hand, hugging you, and leaving inside with you instead of the girl he supposedly likes," Rafe argued. Gripping onto the large counter.

"Rafe, I grabbed his hand and brought him inside to find Kiara. And I hugged him because I was happy for my friend. God, Rafe how many times do I have to tell you that I am not cheating on you."

"It's kind of hard to believe that shit when I keep seeing things with my own eyes."

"Then stop assuming and come ask me. Jesus, do you not trust me or something. Because I trust you. Anytime I hear that you're at a party doing lines with hot blonde's next to you, I brush it off because I know you'd never. Why can't you just do that for me."

Rafe stood from his seat. Pinching the bridge of nose. The guilty conscience grazed through his mind as he listened to her words. He had issues with trust and with others, but he knew it wasn't a reason to take it out on the only person who's loved him for him.

"I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry. You're right. I should trust you. Just like you trust me. I'll work on it. I promise."

"Don't promise me that. Just show me that you love me just as much."

The words clicked. He did love her. And he cared about her. More than anyone in this world. And he wanted to show her. In the most physical way possible.

"C'mere."

"Why?"

"Just c'mere," he repeated as he grabbed her by her waist, pulling her closer to him. She stumbled, but Rafe's grip kept her in place. He moved his face closer to hers, lips almost touching as they grazed against each other.

He used the hand placed on her waist to grip the fabric of her dress. Pulling it upwards. Her breath hitched as he hand snaked under the red tulle and right onto her now soaking core. His pointy finger swept across the waistband of her panties.

Y/n wasn't expecting this as the outcome from their miniature argument but she wasn't complaining. And neither was Rafe.

He pushed her underwear down as much as he could from their position, before going back to her walls and making circular motions. Rafe finally closer the space, kissing her lips practically roughly as he continued rubbing her.

He kept a firm hand on her waist to make sure she had a gripping support if he legs gave out, which they indeed will. The motions stopped as Y/n pulled her lips away from his. Rafe stared at her daring eyes, questioning if she wanted his to continue.

"Put them inside me," she whispered. The Cameron smirked before obliging to her demand. He stuck to fingers into her wet cunt. A soft moan escaped her lips as he did so. Pumping them in and out of her. Y/n rubbed her hand against the erection in his dress pants.

"You like that, yeah?"

She nodded as the locked her lips. Not being able to speak because knowing if she did, she let out a loud moan and even at this club would hear.

She unbuckled his pants, putting her handninside to grip his penis and pump it as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. The hand he held to her waist was now gripped on her neck, gently. Y/n clenched around his fingers. Feeling her high come close. "Dont stop."

Rafe began pumping faster just as Y/n did so. The teens were so horny that they were both already reaching their extent. Rafe's shaft twitched in her hand. "I'm cumming."

"Do it for me."

That's all it took for Y/n to finish. And Rafe too. His liquids filling her hands as they both let out moans due to their intense actions. In one swift motion, Rafe snaked a hand around Y/n's waist turning then so she was against the counter. Her pulled the straps of her dress of her shoulders, leaving kisses as he did so before connecting his lips to hers.

Her pulled his tuxedo jacket off him. Snapping the bowtie off as well. Y/n moaned at the tluchnof his hands on her breast. Massaging them in his hands over the fabric of her strapless bra.

Y/n unbuttoned the spots on his shirt before pulling it off his shoulders and onto the floor. Rafe stop his gripping motions and pulled down his pants and boxers. He sat her up on the counter. Her bare ass connecting to the coldness of the marble designed setting.

Rafe rubbed his tip against her fold once or twice before pushing himself into her. Not giving a warning, but Y/n loved the suddeness. Y/n let a moan into his next as he began thrusting his hips. The girl gripping her black painted nails into his back.

Rafe's eyes rolled to the back of his head. Enjoying the feelings of Y/n's cunt wrapped around him.

"You like that?"

"Yes, god yes."

Y/n sat up, wrapping her arms around his neck. Each moan and huff she exposed in his earn make his whole body shiver. Rafe let out a grunt before answering. She clenched her walls around his dick. The dirty blonde groaned slamming into her body. "Do it again."

She did so. Clenching around around the boy as he slammed into her again. This time, hitting the spot that made her whole body go insane. "Tell me I'm yours."

"You're mine."

A moan escaped her lips after he said what she had wanted. Her hand smacked down onto the edge of the sinks counter. Grilling onto it for dear life. "Tell me it again."

The feeling of her finishing was fastly approaching. As well as for Rafe. The moans she let out made his go over the edge as he fucked her hard. "Tell me, Rafe."

"You're fucking mine, ah-"

Each of them let out a loud moan as they finished. Covering each others mouths. There shouldn't be anyone upstairs but for precautions they covered either way.

Rafe's head fell forward onto her chest. Taking large breaths as y/n did too. "Shit, y/n."

The Cameron pulled out of her. Helping her get redressed and cleaned just after he did himself.

"You're still on the pill right?" He asked as he zipped his pants.

"Yeah. It's fine," she smiled up at his 6'4 figure. Rafe reached down to kiss her passionately.

"I love you, Y/n."

"I love you, too."

[spacexcowgirl]

I Think He Knows - F.W.

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Y/N gets drunk, and decides there's no better time to tell her boyfriend she loves him than the present.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Alcohol usage/intoxication!! There’s a make out scene. Also food. Otherwise mainly just fluff!

A/N: This is my first fic I’ve ever posted on here and the inspiration for it was born out of a drunken anon ask to @lumosandnoxwriting​ sooo here it is. I’ll probably end up writing another part about the next day and them recouping, but who knows. Totally open to any critiques/criticism/help anyone has to offer! Pictures are taken from Pinterest.

The flashing lights were bright and the music far too loud, but you didn’t care. You had liquid courage flowing through your veins and it was making it increasingly easier to lose yourself on the dance floor. Typically, you weren’t much of a dancer, but several shots of some pink liquid you had forgotten the name of had you abandoning all traces of your usual self. You swayed your hips to the rhythm of a song you didn’t know, giggling every time you made eye contact with Alicia or Angelina.

As the song playing came to an end, you gripped your best friends’ forearms and dragged them from the dance floor before another could start. You briefly heard their groans of protests but couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“I want another drink!” You shouted over the music, pulling them towards the bar.

“We don’t need another.” Alicia pointed out, but she was now following you on her own accord, which told you she wouldn’t be protesting too much.

At the bar, you ordered another round of shots for the three of you—asking specifically for ‘whatever the pink one is called.’ The three of you clinked the small glasses together before raising them to your lips and throwing your heads back, allowing the liquid to leave a burning trail down your throat. 

“I’m going to call him.” You announced brightly, slamming your glass down on the bar.

“Y/N, we talked about this!” Angelina whined. “Tonight is supposed to be girl’s night. Plus, Fred’s out with his friends. You should give him his space.”

“Oh please, you act like that boy wouldn’t drop everything to rush over here and be with her.” Alicia rolled her eyes lightly, a knowing smile lighting up her face.

Her words caused you to blush furiously, which you attempted to hide by sliding your cellphone out of your back pocket and bringing it to your face. The screen was too bright, but as you fumbled around with trying to turn it down, you came to realize just how drunk you really were. You quickly gave up on trying to turn down the brightness and instead opened up the call app, clicking at the button that read ‘Recents’ before tapping the name right at the top. You barely registered Angelina’s disappointed groan as you brought the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” 

“Freddie!” You called out, a sweet giggle leaving your lips. You were filled with the most wonderful elation at speaking to your boyfriend, sending a flutter of butterflies alive through your stomach.

“Oh, hello, Y/N.” The voice chuckled. “This isn’t—”

“Where are you?” You interrupted him, rocking slightly on your heels. Angelina was people watching those out on the dance floor, while Alicia had taken up flirting with some bloke next to her.

“We’re still at Lee’s flat.” There was a pause, then he continued. “Y/N, this is George you called. How drunk are you?”

“I don’t think I’m that drunk. Let me ask Angie.” You paused, putting the phone on speaker so your friend could answer for you. “Ang, how drunk am I?”

“Very.” Angelina answered over the music, earning a laugh from George on the other end of the line. “’s that George? Lemme talk to him.”

Angelina took the phone from your hand, ignoring your pout as she did so, and switched it off of speaker mode. At first, you had tried to listen in on the conversation she was having with George, but you quickly got distracted. You hoisted yourself up into one of the bar seats, kicking your legs back and forth as you gazed around. After a few minutes, you were pulled from your drunken thoughts when Angelina nudged you with your phone.

“He hung up?” You pouted as you looked at the black screen. “Are they coming here?”

“No, they’re staying at Lee’s.” Angelina shook her head. “But they said they’d meet us back at your flat when we leave here.”

“Well, let’s go!” You quickly went to jump down from the stool, only for Angelina to place her hands on your shoulders and hold you in place.

“Uh uh, we’re gonna let you sober up a bit first.” She shook her head. “Don’t want you doing something you’ll regret tomorrow.”

“Especially when we know you’ll blame us.” Alicia now joined in, evidently blowing off the guy she had been flirting with only moments before.

Perhaps if you were even a little less drunk, you would have been annoyed by their statements. But currently, you were in a state of almost childlike happiness and wonder. You couldn’t help but let your mind wander to thoughts of your boyfriend, causing a cheesy grin to rise to your face. The past 6 months together had been some of the best of your life, and you often found yourself wondering why you two hadn’t gotten together sooner. You had always been friends during your Hogwarts years, but neither of you ever attempted to take that next step in your relationship until years after graduation. Now, you couldn’t be more thankful with the change.

“I’m going to tell him I love him.” You declared, saying the words out loud as more of a way to convince yourself than to inform them.

“What?” Alicia sputtered, shooting a worried glance to Angelina. “You mean, tonight?”

“I don’t see why not.” You shrugged. “I mean, I do love him. Why shouldn’t I tell him?”

“Y/N/N, don’t you think maybe you should wait until you’re sober?” Angelina looked at you hesitantly. “I mean, that’s kind of a big step.”

“You guys don’t get it,” You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest like a child being scolded. In your drunken mind, you knew that they would never understand the ins and outs of your relationship with Fred. The two of you had never put pressure on things that others deemed ‘the big stuff.’ Everything always had just come so naturally between you two, and you were convinced this should be no different. A small voice in the back of your head told you that the sober version of you would disagree, but you pushed it away. Your decision was made.

“This is like, exactly what we mean by you doing something you’ll regret and blaming us.” Alicia sighed. “So, you better not be mad at us tomorrow.”

“I won’t be, promise.” You affirmed. 

How could this possibly go wrong?

About an hour later, Angelina and Alicia had enough of the club environment and had decided you were sober enough that they could safely walk you back to your flat. The three of you gathered your things and your excitement bubbled inside of you at the prospect of finally getting to see Fred. You nearly skipped out of the club, Alicia and Angelina trailing close behind you, and into the cool night air. Almost immediately, your eyes were drawn to two heads of red hair, backs to you, talking at the edge of the sidewalk. Although they were nearly identical, there was something about one of their postures and energy, and you just knew that it was Fred. Before Angelina or Alicia could stop you, you were running and jumping on your boyfriend’s back, nearly sending him tumbling over.

“Freddie!” You squealed, attaching your arms firmly around his middle as your feet replanted on the ground. He swiveled in your hold, a bout of laughter leaving his lips, as he took in your presence.

“’s good to see you too, love.” He slurred, bending down at a slightly awkward angle to pepper your face with kisses. You giggled at the tickling feeling his lips left behind.

“Thought we were meeting you guys back at her flat?” Angelina questioned as she approached the three of you.

“That was the plan, but Freddie here has had one too many glasses of firewhisky and decided he couldn’t wait that long.” George rolled his eyes. “Said he’d go with or without me to find you guys, so we’ve just been waiting out here.”

“Great, so they’re both drunk off their asses.” Alicia feigned annoyance, but the small smile on her face as she gazed at her two friends public displays of affection showed that she wasn’t truly bothered.

“Alright, love birds, it’s bloody freezing out.” George clapped a hand down on Fred’s shoulder, pulling the older twin’s attention away from you for the first time. “Let’s get going, yeah?”

Fred nodded and held out his hand for you to take, which you happily accepted. The two of you lead the others, swinging your hands between you as you walked down the sidewalk. The entire time, you whispered and giggled back and forth, finding anything and everything to be the funniest thing you ever heard.

“Your hand is so tiny.” Fred giggled, halting your swinging motion to bring your interlaced fingers up and examine them. 

“Is not.” You pouted. You attempted to pull your hand from his, but his grip on you was firm. He used your conjoined hands to pull you closer to him, causing you to stumble slightly, which of course resulted in both of you giggling even more. Fred placed a kiss on each of your knuckles before letting both of your hands fall comfortably between you again.

“It is, but it’s cute.” He looked down at you dreamily, as if you were the most perfect thing he had ever laid his eyes on. In an instant, all of his drunk giddiness seemed to fade and he became uncharacteristically serious. “How did I get so lucky?”

“Hm.” You pretended to ponder the question, bringing your free hand up to tap your chin. “Dunno. I still think you must have me under some spell or potion.”

“Oh, right, how could I forget?” He grinned. “That reminds me, I’ve gotta make another batch of love potion before this one wears off and you leave me.”

“Wouldn’t want that, would we?” You teased back, knocking your shoulder into his.

“Never.” And you could tell, he was serious.

Up ahead you could see the familiar outline of your building. You hadn’t realized just how tired your feet were from walking in your heels, and you longed for nothing more than to slip them off and lie in Fred’s arms for the rest of the night. Nerves began to bubble in your stomach the closer you got, because you knew that meant you were just another step closer to finally telling him. While you hadn’t faltered in your decision, as you began to sober up slightly, you couldn’t help but be anxious for how he would respond. 

“Do we need to help you two get in?” George questioned once you finally were outside your building.

“We’ll be okay.” Fred shook his head. You cuddled into his side for warmth, causing him to raise your entangled hands and wrap his arm around your shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, causing a dopey smile to rise onto your face.

“You’re sure?” Angelina looked between the two of you with raised brows. In response, you simply nodded. “Okay, well, call me tomorrow, alright?”

Both Alicia and Angelina sent you one last glance, one that you knew communicated how they didn’t encourage what you had told them earlier, before they all nodded and offered goodbyes, carrying on their way. Fred untangled your hands and removed his arm from your shoulder to open the door, dramatically bowing forward and extending an arm to allow you to enter first.

“After you, m’lady.”

You giggled loudly at his antics, skipping into the building and beginning towards the stairs. Fred  was hot on your heels, causing you to quicken your pace and run ahead of him, his laughter ringing out behind you as he tried to catch up to you.  Just as you turned on the first landing to continue up the steps, Fred’s hands caught your waist and began ticking your sides, causing your laughter to increase. You did your best to wriggle out of his grasp, which was much easier to do in his drunken state, and continued up the steps. Once on your floor, you quickly turned the corner and found the way to your flat, fumbling with your keys to get in before Fred caught up.

Unfortunately for you, you couldn’t seem to find the right key let alone slide it in to unlock the door, so Fred was able to catch up as you fumbled. You forgot your efforts and instead turned around and blocked the door, a drunken smirk on your face as you gazed up at your boyfriend.

“Sorry, you’re not allowed in.” You teased, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You’re really going to leave your sweet, loving boyfriend out in the hall, after he went out of his way to safely walk you back from the club?” 

“Mhm.” You nodded. “That is, unless you can tell me the password.”

Fred pretended to think for a moment, before he swooped his head down and pressed your lips together in a kiss. It was clumsy, both of your mouths seeming just a bit off center, but it was clear that neither of you cared. You tangled your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as possible, as he pressed your back against the door. He pulled back first, leaving you in lovesick bliss.

“Did you kiss the fat lady like that every time you forgot the password?” You teased once you were able to find your voice.

“Only sometimes.” Fred teased back.

You rolled your eyes playfully before unwinding your hands from behind his head and finally, successfully unlocking your front door. You pulled Fred into the flat by his collar, dragging him all the way to your living room before dropping down onto the couch and shuffling to let him cuddle up behind you. 

For a few moments, you both laid tangled in each other’s arms, listening to nothing but his heartbeat. The sound was rhythmic, and you knew if you didn’t speak up soon you’d fall asleep any minute. But, you weren’t ready to fall asleep yet. You wanted to stay up, to talk to him, to tell him exactly what was on your mind. So, you shifted awkwardly and held yourself up on your forearms to gaze at him.

“‘m hungry.” You declared, your bottom lip jutting out into a pout as you put on your best puppy dog eyes.

“’s too late to order something.” Fred sighed. “Lemme go look at what you have in your fridge.”

You sat up to let him get up, resisting the urge to sigh at his absence. From the kitchen, you could hear the familiar clatter as he riffled through your pots and pans and opened and closed various cupboards. Somehow the sound was like the sweetest melody. It was like a soundtrack of pure bliss, a reminder that he was there, with you, and that you were happy. In the simplest terms.

You shifted to lay down on your back and stare up at your ceiling, breathing in what you could only describe as domestic bliss. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear him re-enter the room, your focus only being drawn away when the couch shifted from his weight. He lifted your legs to rest in his lap, his hand lightly rubbing up and down your ankle at a soothing rhythm.

“Got a quesadilla cooking.” He declared, his eyes tracing up and down your figure as you moved to sit up and look at him.

“Couldn’t stay away from me long enough to watch it?” You teased lightly.

“Can you blame me?” Fred grinned at you, giving your ankle a light squeeze.

You giggled at the contact before sitting up further, swinging your legs around to straddle his waist. You let your arms rest around his neck, a dopey smile on your face as you fiddled with the short hairs there. Fred leaned forward and nuzzled his nose against yours, causing you both to giggle further. 

“You’re my favorite person in the world, you know that?” Fred breathed out, bringing your foreheads to rest together. 

His words caused the familiar butterflies to erupt in your stomach, your smile widening even further. Some part of you knew this would be the perfect moment to tell him exactly how you felt. To tell him that your days are just a bit darker when he’s not around, and how he can make you laugh even when you want nothing more than to cry. You wanted to tell him how whenever he was gone on business trips, you could only fall asleep if you were wearing one of the old t-shirts he had left at your flat, or how you always seem to find something that made you think of him no matter where you were. But, your drunken brain was far from articulate, and your nerves seemed to have a firm grasp on your tongue, so instead, you simply pressed your lips to his.

Fred kissed you back passionately, and it was clear that neither of you minded that both of your mouths held the aftertastes of different alcohols. His lip glided along your bottom lip as his hands found your hips, steadying your movements. When you knocked your teeth together in the drunken kiss, you both pulled back for a moment to giggle, before the passion resumed.

Things seemed to carry on like that for several minutes, wanting nothing more than to be close to one another in every way possible, to be tangled up in anyway that you could, but having to pause every little bit to let out drunken giggles at the situation. You were certain no one had ever gotten you the way Fred Weasley got you, that no one could make you feel so comfortable, and that you were irrevocably in love with him.

Your sweet moment together was brought to a halt by the sound of a loud screeching coming from the kitchen. It took a moment for your brain to recognize it as the sound of your smoke alarm, but once it did you both were to your feet and rushing into the kitchen. Fred cursed under his breath at the clouds of smoke rising from the skillet and quickly set to turn off the burner. You grabbed a drying towel from the counter and began to wave it by the alarm, attempting to cease the godawful beeping it was letting out. After a few minutes, the sound did cease and the smoke cleared, allowing you to breathe a sigh of relief.

“It’s burnt.” Fred pouted, lifting the skillet to show you the blackened quesadilla. 

You weren’t sure if it was the childlike expression on his face or the fact that you both had entirely forgotten about it in the first place, but you couldn’t help but erupt into a fit of laughter. Fred looked at you for a moment as if he were offended by your giggling, before turning his attention the burnt quesadilla, then back to you, and beginning to laugh as well. It was all so absurd and truthfully far from funny, but in that moment, nothing could make you laugh harder.

Fred slid the quesadilla in the garbage before placing the skillet in the sink, resigning to washing it later. In the meantime, you had grabbed the bag of shredded cheese and hoisted yourself up on the counter, swinging your legs as you scooped out a handful of the cheese and began to eat it.

Fred turned and smiled fondly at your actions, crossing the kitchen to settle himself between your legs. He opened his mouth and you wordlessly registered what he was requesting, leaning forward to drop some of the cheese into his mouth. Both of you continued to giggle lightly, feeling nothing but elation as you remained in each other’s presence. 

You raised your hand to offer Fred a bit more of the cheese, smiling warmly when he opened his mouth to accept some. The two of you weren’t as in sync as you might normally be, considering your varying levels of intoxication, and as you dropped some of the cheese onto his tongue you were too slow to remove your hand and he was too quick to bite down, causing him to nip your finger lightly.

You pulled your hand back hastily and Fred’s eyes widened as if he had just mortally wounded you. He swallowed the remaining cheese in his mouth before speaking up, taking your hand in his to examine it.

“Did I hurt you? Are you okay? Merlin, I am so sorry. Are you bleeding? You must be bleeding.”

You weren’t. 

His rambling and concern for you caused you to tilt your head back and let out a loud bout of laughter. 

“‘m fine, Freddie.” You assured, leaning forward to press your lips to his and squash his worries. 

Fred brought your hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to the finger he had just bit, nodding to himself after as if to convince himself that now you were fine. Truly, it was just about the cutest thing you had ever seen.

You spent the next few moments polishing off the bag of shredded cheese, Fred abundantly more careful not to nip your fingers anymore. You chatted lightly, talking about every drunk thing that crossed your mind. Once the cheese was gone Fred poured the both of you a glass of water, sloshing it around slightly as he tried to balance them both in one hand and extend the other to you. You hopped down from the counter and accepted his hand, allowing him to guide you back to your bedroom. He spilled nearly half of each water on the way, mostly on himself, but neither of you could find it in you to care. 

Once inside, you threw yourself down into the center of your bed, extending your hands out in a grabbing motion as Fred set the glasses on your nightstand. Neither of you could be bothered to change into pajamas, so you settled by kicking off your shoes and doing your best to get comfortable in the dress you sported. 

Fred kicked off his shoes as well before crawling over to you and collapsing nearly entirely on you. He laid on his stomach and wound his arms around your waist, his head finding the crook of your neck and pressing a few soft kisses there. You wound your arms around his neck, your legs tangling together. Truthfully, it wasn’t exactly comfortable, but you had him close, and that was all that mattered.

You listened to the sound of his breathing as he slowly drifted off to sleep. Your mind was screaming at you to say the words that had been plaguing you almost all night, before it was too late. Now was your chance.

But, then, you noticed that Fred’s breathing had shallowed significantly and light snores had begun to leave his lips. You breathed out a sigh of disappointment from missing your opportunity, mentally cursing yourself and your nerves.

As if the sleeping boy in your arms could read your thoughts, his grip around you tightened, holding onto you as if his life depended on it. The small action brought a smile to your lips as your eyes fluttered shut.

Perhaps you could wait to tell him that you loved him until the morning. Besides, some part of you was aware that he already knew.

[smaidjor]

i know they're losing (Chapter 1)

hi mothers and fuckers of the jury, this fic is a hot mess but so am I, please appreciate it. Also, obligatory disclaimer this is about the characters not the people, all that important stuff.

Some important notes:

1. You will probably hate Scott just a little at points. He has chronic dumb bitch syndrome and there's a whole lot of bullshit going on in his life that you don't see in this fic because it's not his pov. That being said, he's still a bit of a jerk.

2. This has a lot of lord of the rings lore. A LOT. You may be kinda confused if you're not a lord of the rings fan. It's fine, Jimmy's confused too, and all of it will be explained at some point.

3. The chapter titles are from the Last Goodbye from the Hobbit films. The general title is from I Bet on Losing Dogs by Mitski.

4. General content warnings: there is a little blood, and a little violence, and a lot of mentioned death and morbid jokes. If you don't do well with themes involving death this fic is probably not for you. There is also possibly going to be referenced emotional abuse and generally unhealthy ways to raise children, though that will be talked about much further down the line. I will also put specific cws at the start of each chapter, don't worry!

5. The alternate title for this was '10k words of flower husbands being sad'. You have been warned.

Title: i know they're losing

Chapter Title: under clouds, beneath the stars

Current Total Wordcount: 3740

Content Warning: referenced/past character death, very frank discussion of death.

Snippet:

Scott whirls to face him, robes spinning behind him. “I’m fading, alright? I’m dying, now leave me alone!”

Jimmy feels like he’s been smacked in the face, the words hitting him with all the force of a well-thrown trident. Dying? “You- what- but elves don’t die, right?”

“We do. From poison, from swords, from arrows through the throat-” Jimmy’s hands fly to the scar on his neck, the one that matches Scott’s own- “from grief.”

AO3 Link

Actual fic under the cut

Scott’s hands are cold. That’s the first sign, the chill that’s uncharacteristic of an elf.

Scott’s chest hurts. That’s the second sign, the bone-deep ache he can’t seem to quell.

Scott is weaker than normal, and that’s the third sign, the one that confirms what’s happening beyond a shadow of a doubt. He’s fading, Scott thinks as he leans against a wall, trying to stop his head from spinning. He can’t say he’s surprised, not after all he’s been through; in fact, he’s more astonished it took so long to start.

-

In another world, it happens like this:

Scott’s hands are cold, and Shubble notices as he shows her around the nether. It’s worrying, a bit, how icy his skin is even in the boiling dimension, but Scott’s empire has always been cold, hasn’t it?

Katherine notices how long it’s been since Scott visited her, one of his few allies, and she worries, a bit. But Scott has always been distant, hasn’t he?

No one notices or worries enough to go check on him, and Scott fades away to nothing, cold and alone in his icy empire.

-

What actually happens is this:

Katherine has gotten word of the demon that haunts the server, and amongst all her worry, one of her thoughts is ‘has anyone checked on Scott?’. The answer is no, and next time she has a free day, she sets out for Rivendell. It’s not a long trip, not with elytra, anyways, and soon she’s at the doors to his keep.

“I need to see Lord Smajor,” she tells the guards.

“He’s not taking visitors right now.” is the response she gets.

“It’s a vital matter to the safety of both our kingdoms.”

They let her in.

Katherine spends far too long looking around the elegantly decorated downstairs and storage area before she realizes he must be up the spiral staircase in the corner of the room. She’s never been upstairs in Scott’s house before, which makes her a little nervous, but… this is an urgent matter, so she presses on into what turns out to be a very pretty bedroom. Decorated with bookshelves aplenty and gorgeous lanterns, it practically screams Scott.

The man (elf?) himself is harder to spot. At first, Katherine’s worried he isn’t there at all, but eventually she realizes that he’s still in bed despite the fact that it’s a quarter to one, only his pale face sticking out from under the covers.

“Scott?” She asks, cautious. “Lord Smajor?”

He blinks at her tiredly. “Hi, Katherine.”

“I came to talk to you about some empires stuff, but, I mean, if this is a bad time, I can come back later…?”

“No, no, stay.” He waves at the sole chair in the room, which is near-enough to the bed. “I can muster the energy for a meeting, just don’t ask me to get up.”

Katherine takes the seat hesitantly. “I came to talk about the corruption on the server, but- are you okay? Are you sick?”

Scott laughs, a little bitter. “In a way, yes.”

“What do you mean?”

“Take my hand.”

She obeys, confused, and finds that Scott’s hands are like ice despite the warmth of the room.

“Elves don’t get sick like mortals do,” Scott says. “Nor do we die of old age. But we get...heartsickness, you might call it. We call it fading in our tongue- the cold hands are a symptom of that. Our souls are fragile, and the grief of the mortal plane can be overwhelming. If an elf is too struck by it, they fade away and die.”

She gasps a little.

“It usually happens to old elves, world-weary,” Scott continues. “Those who are tired of existence. But any elf who has experienced enough grief is at risk.”

It takes Katherine a moment to process everything, and once she does, she stares at him in horror. “You’re- fading? But doesn’t it usually happen to old elves? Wait, are you old?”

“I’m fifty-five.”

“Is that old?”

That gets a laugh out of him. “Fifty is the elven equivalent of eighteen for humans, the age of maturity.”

“Oh.” She struggles for words for a moment, settling on “How can you be so calm if you’re dying?”

“I’m tired, Katherine. The world tore me away from the people I loved, and..I’m tired of fighting it.”

Try as she might, there’s nothing she can say to that. “Is there a way to reverse fading- to fix it?”

Something pained and raw flashes through his eyes. “Technically, yes. If an elf recovers enough emotionally, it’s reversible. But whatever caused them to fade the first time can- and often does- cause it again.”

Katherine nods seriously, absorbing the information. “We’ll just have to reverse it, then.”

“That’s sweet, Katherine, but I’m dying.”

“No,” she tells him firmly. “You’re not going to die. Now come on, you can show me your empire while I fill you in on what’s happening on the rest of the continent.”

Scott stares at her for a long moment, but eventually he takes her outstretched hand. “Alright.” His hand is frozen cold in hers. “We can try.”

Katherine lets him lead her around Rivendell, pointing out the sights. He’s done an impressive job decorating, like her, and an even more impressive job at uniting the elves and building an empire from the ground up. The people of Rivendell are weary and battle-scarred, for the most part, elves who have seen too much, but the children are bright and happy, and the cyan and gold banners wave proudly in the wind.

As they walk, she also tells Scott about the demon, Xornoth. “The demon’s already visited a lot of people, I think. Gem and Shubble for sure, and Fwhip and Sausage. That’s not even mentioning the corruption that’s been spreading.”

Scott nods. “There’s corruption in Rivendell too. Likely Xornoth’s work. And given that Jimmy still has Vilya- well, I haven’t been able to do much.”

“Vilya?”

“A ring of power. My inheritance from the Noldor.”

“Why does Jimmy have it?”

He doesn’t answer that one.

Katherine leaves feeling unsettled, with more questions than answers. She has new resolve, though, and a new goal: keep Scott from fading. He’s a good friend, though they don’t know each other that well yet, but more than that, he’s a powerful ally. And Katherine can’t afford to lose allies. So while they’re both rulers and busy in their own right, she promises to visit and drag him outside at least once a week.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Scott jokes, but his laugh is weak.

Katherine vows to hold herself to it.

-

The plan works for three entire weeks before Katherine has a week that’s so busy there’s no way she can find the time for a trip to Rivendell. Worse than that, because Scott is so isolated, he has almost no other friends, and many of Katherine’s allies are busy too. She’s a little short of options, to be honest, which is how she finds herself on Jimmy Solidarity’s doorstep that Sunday afternoon.

“Hello?” Jimmy asks as the door swings open. Katherine can see why Lizzie calls him the sweet swamp boy- his confused head tilt is frankly adorable.

“Hi! I know we don’t talk much, but I could use a favor,” she says.

“What can I do for you?”

“I need you to visit Scott.”

Jimmy looks beyond startled. “What- I mean, he doesn’t even like me! I couldn’t possibly.”

“Please?” She wheedles. “I promised him a visitor every week, but I have meetings all week this time.”

He shakes his head, hesitantly at first and then stronger. “No, Katherine. He’d just throw me right out again. I’m his enemy, for goodness sake!”

“If he hates you so much, why do you have his ring?”

Katherine knows she’s won, watching emotions flit across his face too quickly to catch. Grief is what he settles on, and she feels a little bit bad for the ring comment when his voice comes out wobbly.

“I guess I should return that, huh? Alright, I’ll go.”

“Sorry,” she says.

Jimmy brushes it off, saying there’s no need to worry, but he fiddles with the ring on his finger all the more. It’s on his left ring finger, Katherine notes. She wonders if that truly means what it implies.

“I’ll visit him tomorrow,” Jimmy says.

“I’ll hold you to that!”

-

Jimmy isn’t sure why he agreed to this at all, to be honest. Scott may have given him this ring in another world, another lifetime, but that doesn’t mean Scott doesn’t hate him in this one. What other explanation is there for how all his gifts have been rejected, how cold the elf is? Jimmy would be surprised that Scott’s never tried to take his ring back if it wasn’t for how thoroughly Scott avoids him nowadays. Getting the ring back would require talking to Jimmy, something Scott has made it very clear that he doesn’t want to do. Jimmy doesn’t have another use for it, and try as he might to forget flower fields and warm hands in his, he can’t bear to throw it away. So it’s remained on his hand all this time, a painful reminder of someone who used to love him.

Jimmy tries to avoid looking at it as much as possible, every glimpse bringing back the memory of Scott gently sliding it onto his hand, a faint blush dusting his cheeks and a smile on his lips. Even the faint shimmers in the blue gem remind him of how the starlight seemed to get caught in Scott’s hair when they were out at night. The ring had been one of their most valuable possessions on 3rd Life, the rare silver band and elegant forging more than proof of that. Now, though, the ring has to be one of the least valuable things Jimmy owns; on 3rd Life, they were humble folk in little hobbit holes, their most expensive possessions being their diamond armor and swords, but here, they’re kings and lords. Scott probably has a thousand treasures more valuable in his elven empire, so Jimmy’s not sure why he’s bothering to trek all the way across the world just to return this one.

Then again, it’s not really about the ring, and never has been. It’s about the way starlight used to shine in Scott’s eyes when he smiled, his rare, soft grin that was reserved just for Jimmy, how he gave Jimmy the most valuable thing either of them owned. It’s closure, in a way, giving it back. He won’t have any debt to Scott once this ring is returned, and they can both move on like Scott so clearly wants to.

Shaking off those thoughts, Jimmy slows to a stop in front of Scott’s house. It’s grand, nothing like his old hobbit hole, but still so clearly Scott in the decoration and color schemes. Jimmy would know who built it even if he hadn’t known Scott lived in these mountains.

“I’m here to visit Scott,” he says to the guard stationed outside.

They raise an eyebrow, presumably at the familiar way he refers to Scott. “On formal business or personal?”

“Personal? Sort of? I mean, I don’t have any diplomatic reason for being here.” Truth be told, he has no reason to be here at all, really, but...the ring.

“Then Lord Smajor cannot see you.”

Jimmy grits his teeth, suddenly furious at this whole ordeal. “Then tell Lord Smajor that I need to return his ring.”

“May I see it?”

He sticks his hand out obligingly, and the guard examines the ring, surprise blooming across their face. “I did not realize my Lord had lent you Vilya! My apologies, Lord Codfather, I see the alliance between our kingdoms is stronger than I had assumed. You may pass.”

Vilya? “Thank you, gentle, uh, gentleperson!”

The guard dips their head slightly as he walks by, a gesture of respect that he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to. He shakes off the strangeness of the interaction, though, pushing open the door to Scott’s house.

The inside is beautiful, exactly the kind of decor Scott loves...and empty. There’s no one in the spacious kitchen, the storage room, or anywhere else for that matter. Jimmy’s seconds from giving up and going home when he realizes that there are stairs up to the balcony above. That’s where he goes, finding himself in Scott’s bedroom.

Which is awkward, to say the least. It’s not like they never slept in the same room when they were married, but now that there’s this awkward, painful distance between them, Jimmy feels like he’s intruding. What’s worse is, Scott’s still in bed, laying on his side with his face tilted away from Jimmy’s awkward entrance.

“Hello, Jimmy.”

Jimmy half-jumps, not expecting that. “How’d you know it was me?”

Scott rolls over to face him, and Jimmy notes that his face is too pale for it to be natural or healthy. “Do you think I could ever forget the sound of your footsteps?” He goes on before Jimmy can answer. “What are you doing here?”

“Katherine asked me to visit, I’m not sure why, but...here I am. Say, why is she visiting every week?”

Scott’s laugh is bitter. “Katherine thinks she can save me.”

“Save you from what?” Jimmy asks, concerned despite himself.

His (ex?)husband doesn’t reply.

“Save you from what?” Jimmy presses, and gets no answer yet again.

Instead, Scott sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “You should go.” He stands, and immediately stumbles, Jimmy rushing to steady him on instinct. Scott’s hands are like ice when he grips Jimmy’s arm to regain his balance, taking several deep breaths, and Jimmy’s instantly struck by how wrong that feels. Scott’s hands were always warm, even on the coldest nights in 3rd life. Some elven thing, probably, that Scott didn’t want to talk about or have time to explain to a silly human like Jimmy.

“Scott, what is going on?”

The elf brushes him off again, heading for the stairs, but the regal effect is ruined by how hard he has to grip the railing.

“Scott, seriously! Answer me, are you okay? What’s happening?”

Scott whirls to face him, robes spinning behind him. “I’m fading, alright? I’m dying, now leave me alone!”

Jimmy feels like he’s been smacked in the face, the words hitting him with all the force of a well-thrown trident. Dying? “You- what- but elves don’t die, right?”

“We do. From poison, from swords, from arrows through the throat-” Jimmy’s hands fly to the scar on his neck, the one that matches Scott’s own- “from grief.” Scott turns back to the stairs. “Come on. If you’re not going to leave, I might as well show you around.”

Jimmy follows, reluctantly, trying to think of something to say that isn’t incoherent sputtering with a bit of ‘why do you hate me now’ added in. “You can’t just drop something like that on a man, you know!”

“You did ask, to be fair.”

Why oh why is he so stupid around Scott? “I guess so, but- but still, dude.”

Scott pushes open the side door, holding it for Jimmy. “Here.”

Jimmy nods and slips through the door.  “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

They start along the path, Scott walking far too quickly for Jimmy’s comfort given how terrible the elf’s balance is currently. He nearly has to jog to keep up, irritatingly, but at least they aren’t snapping at each other for a few precious moments.

Of course, Jimmy has to go and ruin that. “So, uh..are we going to talk about 3rd life?” He has to hear it from Scott’s own lips that he remembers, that it affected him even half as much as it’s affected Jimmy.

“No.”

“Why not? We need to talk about it some time-”

“I said no .”

“It’s literally killing you to not talk about it!”

Scott freezes, face going icy calm in the way Jimmy knows means he’s actually upset. The elf’s hands grip the fabric of his robes tight, his back going rigid. This is a bad idea, Jimmy knows.

He’s in too deep to back out now, though, the pent-up hurt of the past few months all coming out in a rush. “Tell me I’m wrong, Scott! I dare you, tell me I’m wrong! Tell me you never cared about me, tell me you didn’t bother to bury me, tell me it didn’t hurt even a little when I died! Tell me I was just stupid little Jimmy, a toy for an elf who’d live far beyond my lifespan! Tell me whatever, just tell me the truth! ”

Scott breathes out slowly, fury gradually building on his face. “Fine. You want to know what happened after you died? You want to hear about me screaming until my throat went raw? You want to know that I kissed your face and sobbed and begged you to wake up, over and over until I couldn’t speak at all? You want to live with the knowledge that Grian had to physically pull me away from your body? Is that what you want to hear, Jimmy ?”

Jimmy’s name on Scott’s lips punches all the remaining air out of him, sounding so wrong in that angry, bitter tone. Beneath all the rage, Scott sounds wrecked , and the fight leaves Jimmy’s body abruptly. “No,” he says softly. “That’s not what I want to hear, not at all. I’d rather you be happy than love me.”

Silence follows those words, only the faint sound of a waterfall in the distance there to break it.

“I buried you on the hill above our houses,” Scott says finally. “I planted a poppy over your grave.”

“Oh.”

“Grian came over the next day. I didn’t want to see anyone who wasn’t you, but I let him in because I had to. He helped me do the straps on my armor and asked me if he could do anything else to make things easier. I told him to bury me next to you.”

Jimmy swallows hard. “Did he?”

“How would I know?” Scott’s tone softens, just a little. “Grian was honorable enough, though, loyal to his allies. I like to think he did.”

“He was a good guy,” Jimmy agrees. “A little bit bloodthirsty, I guess, but good. I don’t suppose he survived any better than the rest of us, though maybe being bloodthirsty helped.”

“Maybe.”

“Can I- can I ask you why you hate me so much now? I mean, if you mourned me in third life and all.”

Scott turns away again, starting down the path a second time. He’s not looking at Jimmy when he says “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?” It’s a shock, honestly, given that this is the first time the two of them have really spoken since the beginning of empires. “But you burned the pufferfish-”

“I didn’t. I kept it.” Scott still won’t look at him. “I never hated you. I don’t think I’m capable of it.”

“Then why do you keep avoiding me?”

“I’ve been kind of busy dying,” Scott says dryly, and Jimmy doesn’t even realize it’s a joke until he looks over at Scott’s wry little grin.

“Scott! That’s not funny!” He scolds, aghast.

“It was a little funny.”

“No!”

Scott must hear the genuine distress in Jimmy’s voice because he drops the act. “Jimmy, I’m an elf. I won’t live far beyond you, but only because I’ll fade without you.”

“So your solution is to isolate yourself and fade now?” Jimmy demands.

“It does sound stupid when you put it like that, doesn’t it? But I lost you once, and I don’t think I could bear it again.”

Jimmy wants to argue, wants to fight him on this, but there’s nothing he can say. Instead, he puts a hand on Scott’s arm to stop him walking any further. Scott turns to look at him, seemingly startled, and Jimmy throws his arms around the elf.

Scott stiffens before slowly relaxing, arms coming up to wrap around Jimmy in return. It’s not as natural a gesture as it used to be, but it’s warm, gentle in a way Jimmy thought he’d never get again. It reminds him of the soft, starry-eyed boy who put flowers in his hair and laughed at him over a cake. Scott will never be that soft again and Jimmy will never be unscarred, but they’re here. They’re alive, that has to count for something.

Scott pulls back, his expression so achingly tender and heartbroken all at once. “I’m sorry, Jimmy.” His voice is raw, a little shaky. “I can’t. Not again.”

“But-”

He’s cut off by Scott shaking his head. “Losing you will destroy me. We dared to love, and now all we can do now is lessen the pain when it all comes crashing down.”

Jimmy’s in too much shock to speak, the ache in his heart returning tenfold as Scott turns back towards the house.

“Goodbye, Jimmy.” He sweeps away, elegant as ever, but stumbles and nearly falls as he reaches the door. Jimmy’s not there to catch him.

Jimmy stumbles home in a daze. It's somewhat of a miracle that no mob manages to kill him, honestly. To be so close to a resolution, to have the person he wanted most right there in his arms, and then to have all that ripped away- he can’t think of anything that could have hurt more. Even his deaths were less painful than this- at least an arrow through the throat is quicker than feeling like your heart is being ripped out through your ribs, Jimmy thinks, a little bitter. He throws Scott’s stupid ring in a pool in the swamp, watching as it sinks to the bottom of the shallow water with hardly a bubble.

Wait.

The ring.

It’s significant, somehow, according to a Rivendell guard, and more than that, it’s an excuse to see Scott again. One last chance to change his mind about the stupid plan that’s literally killing him.

Jimmy dives in without thinking, scrabbling around until his fingers close around the smooth stone and thin band. When he pulls it out, the gem glitters in the starlight even under the layers of dirt, and it looks like something special. It looks like hope.

[melismaticmadness]

INTERVIEW

Request: “Something in the lines of reader playing reggies gf on the shows s2 and she becomes bffs with charlie but people keep shipping them. Something in like interview style or so....”

Description: FLUFF

1811 Words

Warnings: one curse word!

Charlie x Reader, Featuring Jeremy

Hope you like it!!

Press was always an exciting time as an actor, but even more so with this cast because of what happened before press events for season one. Their virtual press was great, but you can tell how excited they all were to experience it together this time around. Julie and the Phantoms was the best job I had gotten since moving out to LA. Honestly, it could be my big break. I was playing opposite Jeremy as his love interest, but our off-screen relationship was strictly platonic. Obviously, he and Carolynn are married and she is the sweetest. Jeremy is more of a mentor to me.

I sat in between Charlie and Jeremy for our first interview of the day when a production assistant came in and prepped us for the topics for this interview. Each interview has a slightly different focus, so it’s helpful that we know before we get started. The soft-spoken man raddled off some talking points: Charlie’s sleeves, Jeremy’s new character arc, my relationships/experience joining the cast, and then all of us would have time to add in stories of our choice if there was time. Easy. This cast makes it really easy to connect and bond. They are a family and I am so lucky to be a member of it now.

What I didn’t expect was to get so close to Charlie during rehearsals and filming in Vancouver. The two of us were instantly inseparable. He came to watch my film on set, I came to watch him. We rehearsed our lines together almost every night after long days, and Owen even considered me his other roommate because of all the nights I was asleep on their couch. Hanging out with Charlie felt like we had known each other our entire lives, but it had only been about a year.

Interviewer: “So, y/n, you seem really well connected to this cast, even though you’re sort of the new kid in the group. Would you mind telling me how you felt about joining this project?”

Y/N: “Oh I definitely felt welcomed right into the group. I remember my first night in Vancouver, Charlie came to check out my apartment, Owen came too, and I remember Charlie and I trying to prank Owen when he fell asleep on the couch but it was an epic fail. We had water and shaving cream all over the floor and ourselves, oh my god it was a mess, but that’s kinda the proof of how fast I became part of the group. Night one and they were already including me in their fun. The same goes with the girls, Jadah, Madi, Sav, Tori- we immediately were meeting for breakfast before filming together and having movie nights. It was the best welcome I could have imagined, knowing how close they all were from last season.”

Interviewer: “Jeremy, what was it like having this new energy come in, especially to shake things up for your character Reggie, who really was much of the comedic relief last season, but now has this mutually flirty relationship with y/n’s character?”

Jeremy: “Well, it was great having y/n come in and it allowed us all to explore Reggie outside of his quirky one-liners. It’s not that hard acting opposite, y/n, the talent they bring in was insane and we got along really well so it made it a lot of fun exploring Reggie as somewhat of a ‘ladies man’.”

Interviewer: “Yes it was fun getting to see more of who Reggie is, or was? Spoiler alert if you haven’t seen season one, Reggie is dead. All the boys are dead. Anyway, speaking of seeing more of something- Charlie, I noticed the sleeves on all your shirts this season were barely there. Is this a Charlie characteristic that just carried over to show off or was this specifically written for Luke?”

Charlie: “Oh gosh, haha. I think it’s a little bit of both. I definitely bring a lot of myself to Luke, but even in season one, Soyon, our amazing costume and wardrobe supervisor, was cutting the sleeves off Luke’s shirts. I think it played into his 1995 bad boy persona, and now it’s just him.”

Y/N: “and you just like showing off...hahaha!”

Charlie: “If you got it, flaunt it!” With that, all three of us and the interviewer were cracking up laughing and Charlie was flexing which kept us going a minute longer.

Interviewer: “AH,” they sighed, “Y/N, the internet is freaking out about you, truly, because of some photos of you with Mr. Gillespie over here. Let me read some things for you - ‘my heart is broken because I can’t have Charlie, but at least y/n can. I ship it,’ under an Instagram photo of you two the caption reads ‘ship it so hard it’s like the Titanic,’ which is my favorite. It’s too funny. So my question is, what is going on here? Is there a secret showmance that you’re hiding behind Reggie?”

Charlie and I are now laughing hysterically again. I don’t think the interviewer realizes how nervous our laughing sounds compared to before, but hopefully, it’s not noticeable to fans or the rest of the cast. I wasn’t expecting to get questions about Charlie and my relationship when I was supposed to be talking about my character, the whole experience, and all my scenes with Jeremy.

Y/N: “Oh no, no, no. We are friends! Nothing is going on,” I looked over at Charlie who had his eyes locked on me most admiringly. He was going to let me handle this however I wanted. “Charlie and I just happened to click right away during rehearsals and now I feel like he’s the older brother I never had!”

Charlie looked a little hurt at that ‘brother’ comment, but he jumped in to echo what I had said.

Charlie: “Ya know, the fans are so great. They love to keep up with our lives and find little hidden clues in the show about the backstory, and I think that’s just what happened with our friendship. We’re best friends, we have so many inside jokes, we hang out a LOT. But, Nah, nothing is going on here. It’s cute though that they ship us! Look out, Jere! I’m stealing your girl!.”

Interviewer: “You heard it here first everyone, Mr. Gillespie isn’t off the market! Thank you all for your time today. Everyone make sure to check out season two of Julie and the Phantoms, now on Netflix!”

*****************************

After a long first day of press, I was finally walking back into my hotel room in New York when my phone went off.

I tossed my stuff on the couch and plopped down to see what I had missed all day. Charlie had just texted me asking to meet him on the roof.

“The roof?!” I grunted, “How did he even get on the roof?” Back out the door, I followed signs to the roof. Swinging the door open once I got up there, my breath was taken away. New York City right at dusk, with the cool breeze hitting me, was so beautiful.

“Gillespie, are we allowed to be up here?”

“Kenny said we’re less likely to be followed or have our picture taken together if we were up here and came up separately. So, if we get in trouble, it’s on Kenny...”

“The view is amazing. Not surprised Kenny knew about it.” I said as I went to look out over the glass barrier at the edge of the building. We looked out in silence for a minute or so when I heard Charlie exhale.

“Y/n, what was that today?” he said running his hands through his hair.

“What was what today?”

“That whole ‘Charlie is my brother’ thing,” he made his voice go up in pitch to mimic my voice when he said it and I could tell it was bugging him, but I didn’t know why.

“I was caught off guard...I mean we’re friends.. but I figured no one would believe that if I didn’t squash the rumors right there. Sorry if it was like, emasculating, or made it seem like you don’t have any game, lol.” I playfully hip bumped him to get him to laugh a little and it worked but there was still something on his mind.

“Char, is your manager upset with what I said? I can fix it tomorrow, I’ll figure something out-” I said tilting my head in front of his so he was looking at me instead of the view.

“No, y/n, no, it’s okay..” he hesitated, “but is that really what’s going on?”

It felt like the wind was knocked out of me at that moment and all I could do was slide my back down the glass and sit on the roof. My head was in my hands and I didn’t want to say the wrong thing next.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry if I caught you off guard,” Charlie said squatting down to my level. “I just thought..maybe you felt something, anything, telling you this was more than a friend to friend relationship..” Now he was rubbing my back. Damn, this boy is my best friend.

“Charlie, I- I don’t want to lose my job. I love working with you and with everyone,” I took a deep breath, “but I can’t say I never thought about it. I have definitely thought about it.”

“Okay, so what are you thinking in that head of yours?”

“I’m thinking that I care about you and that I have for a while but didn’t want to admit it to myself until now,” looking up at Charlie I could tell he was fighting to hold back a smile.

“Kenny, won’t fire you. I talked to him in LA before we went up to Vancouver because I didn’t want him to be disappointed in me because of how I felt.”

“You told him in LA?! He’s probably been watching us and laughing at us for MONTHS. Oh my god.”

“No, it’s cool. He just warned me to make sure I wanted to be more than friends because he didn’t want to lose you.”

“Wow. Okay.” The weight I didn’t even know I was holding, had been lifted off my shoulders. “The fans really do know us better than we know ourselves.”

We both laughed and Charlie finally settled down right next to me.

“Look, I’m not saying we rush into anything. I knew I had to say something before the opportunity was gone. Now that the show’s out, you’re going to have guys banging down your door for a date.”

“I guess it’s a good thing the only guy I am looking for is you then, hmm?”

“Thank god for that interview…” Charlie said under his breath.

[hargrove-mayfields]

Autistic max? I’m all in -🦖

yes!! Max being on the spectrum is one of my favorite headcanons! Here’s a bit of my thoughts and hcs for you anon! <3

okay so first i wanna talk a little about where this hc came from! this idea was born in my head for a multitude of reasons, but the general summary is this:

-she misses a lot of social+emotional cues! she didn’t pick up on just how annoyed Mike was with her in the gym and kept pushing until El intervened, she didn’t detect any of Lucas’ panic or frustration when he was explaining the upside down to her until he touches her, and when el is jealous and just not interested in meeting her, she seems to be completely unfazed by that until she walks away. also every scene she has with Billy, he’s very shut off and she seems to be confused about what she’s expected to say, missing that he’s angry until he’s lashing out, and idk to me it just seems like she doesn’t really have a grasp on understanding others’ emotions!

-similarly, she only seems to react in the face of immediate danger, as if she’s a lot of the time unaware of how bad things truly are around her. like when she’s helping to find dart without even knowing what’s going on, driving a whole muscle car and going down into the tunnels without a hint of fear, seeming barely concerned when the mindflayer was about to drop through the ceiling. it’s almost like she has trouble fully processing the consequences of certain things, which could also explain why she sneaks out even though she probably knows what Neil is like and the fact that it could potentially put her in danger.

-the way she dresses just screams tactile sensitivity! she doesn’t ever wear anything flowy, any scratchy materials, and even at the snowball, where we see Susan fussing over her, she’s still dressed for comfort. what young girl with a mother clearly interested in making her pretty is going to get away with wearing jeans to a school dance if she doesn’t have sensory issues?

-also, whenever she gets upset she seems to shut down. like she almost never talks to Billy after he yells at her unless it’s necessary, when her and Lucas are talking on top of the bus it definitely seems like she’s struggling to voice her feelings or put words to her emotions, when Billy’s in the sauna, after he’s activated she starts turning in on herself, and after his death she’s just sitting in his room. like maybe she doesn’t really understand her own emotions that well either.

I’m not really viewing any of this as like, solid evidence or anything btw, these are just some things I’ve noticed about her as an autistic girl her age and living in a very similar situation that I think are neat and relatable!

onto the stuff I literally made up because I love her!

-Susan gives me autism mommy vibes. Like, making it her identity that she has a child with autism, and at times that can get super frustrating for Max because she hates being her mom’s little trophy daughter, gossiped about at all the potlucks so people feel sorry for her. Her absolute least favorite thing is “She’s such a handful.” and when Susan pulls the I’m so lonely because of taking care of you card to make her feel bad. Especially because she doesn’t feel very taken care of, once she’d hit a certain age her mother decided she’d be alright without all that “kid stuff” and basically tossed her into the world on her on. (hence why she’s Billys responsibility)

-In the 80s (and still now if we’re being entirely honest) it was very normal to just throw a casual r slur into conversation and it kills Max every time her friends say it, especially Mike because she thinks he’s being mean and doesn’t like her. She doesn’t know how to explain to them that that hurts her feelings because she doesn’t even know how to bring it up that she’s autistic. Billy tells her once to try to cheer her up that he could beat them up for her but she cries even harder because that’s what she doesn’t want, is for them to think she’s overreacting. He feels bad and tries to make up for it bringing it up with some of the moms of the group and asking that they tell their kids to stop using that word ever.

-In California she was in special ed classes, but Hawkins Middle deems that not necessary for someone of her “functioning level” (yuck) and she gets landed in coed instead. It might’ve been alright if that was how she started her education, but she was already used to classes of four or five kids like her, and she just cannot learn in that new environment. So she does really, really bad in school her first year in Hawkins. She feels kind of self conscious around her friends because they’re all so smart and her grades make her feel stupid even though it’s not her fault, and that’s why she kinda drifts towards being close with El because she struggles with learning things too.

-Smells are probably her worst overstimulation triggers. Things like cigarette smoke, fresh brewed coffee, her moms perfume, cooking and baking smells, the automatic air freshener thing, candles. Pretty much anything stronger than the smell of water is just overwhelming for her, especially if there’s something else already working her up, because then a whiff of something too strong can put her straight into a meltdown. Billy decides to quit smoking for her (he’ll never admit that, he’s adamant that it was because it was messing with his lung capacity and he’s trying to work out) and he also does things like buy Susan a new, less offensive perfume for her birthday and open windows to get stuffy air out of the house. They never really talk about what that does for her but like, that’s part of how they start getting closer, is when he starts making little accommodations for her like that.

-In addition to smells, there are very specific sounds she can’t stand. It’s not all loud noises, some of them like the rev of Billy’s car or a bass guitar at an outdoor amphitheater are some of her favorites, but the ones she doesn’t like, she really hates. Things like styrofoam, dishes hitting off of each other, something scratching against ice that builds up in the freezer, TV static, the toaster popping up or the oven beeping, and people who can’t chew with their mouths closed (looking at you Billy, keep that gum in your mouth please) all make her feel gross. She’ll try to physically shake off the way those sounds make her feel but sometimes they’re just too much and she shuts down for a while until she gets to hear something else. In that case usually really quiet music or someone talking to her quietly can reel her back in.

-Her interests vary a lot! The longest she’s ever held one special interest was a Miss Piggy phase! Susan liked that she was showing interest in a feminine character because of a lot of her si’s were tomboyish, but Max liked Piggy because she knew karate and punched people who laughed at her or tried to make her feel bad about herself! She has all sorts of Piggy collectibles, like toys, bed sheets, posters, books, mugs and watches! Otherwise her interests and fixations tend to come and go pretty quickly, like one week she could want to know everything there is to know about pro skaters, and the next she’s into the history of circuses! She liked cars for a little while and Billy was really excited to indulge in that and let her get familiar with the camaro, but she shifted to video games pretty soon after and he had to let it drop.

-Another interest that’s also pretty constant for her is nature! Not only for the sensory experience of it, listening to leaves rustle and birds chirp and water rush, but also all the knowledge about it. She can identify any type of flower, grass, tree, critter, or fungus! When she’s melting down and needs to be away from the house, she asks Billy to take her to the state park so she can just sit and be quiet and calm down on a fallen tree or a swing set somewhere. They do have some woods behind their house but she’s too afraid to venture out there and prefers to be out with her brother anyways.

-Stims! She’ll fiddle with zippers and buttons and loose threads constantly to the point that they buy her three or four of the same jackets and shirts for when she inevitably breaks them. She also chews on sleeves and hoodie strings a lot. Other tactile stims she favors are string tricks and braiding and tieing knots! Braiding her and Billy’s hair is something she’ll do anytime she needs to feel grounded, and she has a whole bunch of those little wooden boards that kids use to learn how to tie their shoes to tie knots with. She also always has a pocketful of yarn, and her favorite thing to make with them is a spider web or a star!

-Sort of related to her fascination with string is that her shoelaces never ever match, she has like a whole drawer in her room full of different ones to change them out! (and she has Miss Piggy Bow Biters to put on them!)

-She’s also a very verbal stimmer at times! Giggles for days with Max, if she’s excited, happy, nervous, whatever, she’s giggling. Humming and mimicking too, like if she hears a sound she likes she’ll try to make it, whether it be part of a song or something she hears outside. But if she is sad she’ll get as quiet as a mouse.

Idk these are just like my sort of canon compliant hcs I guess? Like what I feel would be true for her in the timeline and storyline of the show!

[futurewriter2000]

Close Friends - pt. 11

A/N: It’s not over yet but like.... how did I do?

XX

June. 

June finally came, it was rough in the beginning with the final few exams but enjoyable towards the end. 

For you, all those months on focusing on the exams was a bliss becasue if you were stressed enough for pieces of papers deciding your future, you weren’t thinking about the four boys you used to call friends. 

They’ve been great contemplating months of long nights of crying and sobbing. You saw them everywhere. You saw them in the Great Hall, classess, corridors, Hogsmeade, everywhere really and it was hard at first but there was something about them- something that changed. Whether they got closer since your last encounter with them or they’ve matured. 

You haven’t been talking to neither of them. There were some nodds and smiles whenever some of you passed, Sirius more guilty, always looking away but you managed to actually forgive him. 

You couldn’t understand how you could. Usually, you would have hold on to a grudge and never forgive him for hitting you. Some days, you could see him staring in class and it was as if he was screaming appologies at you with his eyes. 

Knowing Sirius for years, he wouldn’t do what he did if he wasn’t truly hurt. He was in love with you and you knew that. He was in love with you and you basically told him you were in love with his best friends. That they were perfect for you. Not him, who had tried months to speak those words- those three words that seemed so heavy on his heart and who would genuenly love you with everything he has got. You knew Sirius. You knew how intensly he could feel his emotions, whether that was love or hurt. If he loved you, he loved you with every single atom in his body and if he hurt- he definetly hurt until he fell into the depths of darkness. 

You knew him so well, so goddamn well that you felt his emotions through all those days. Whenever he was happy and you didn’t see it, you felt happy. Whenever he was in his deepest of refrets, you cried those nights. Whenever he looked at you, you could feel the guilt he felt. It was as if the two of you were connected in such a deep level it felt impossible to think that maybe, just maybe he was right. You two-

“You coming?!” your roomate ran across the room with her bathing suit on, smiling and tying her hair.

She interrupted your train of thoughts but you smiled anyway. Today was a nice sunny day at the lake. Everybody will be there. You put on your dress and your flip flops, grabbed the towel and glasses and shouted back. “It’s you who we’re waiting, Fran.” 

She popped her head out of the warderobe and smiled. “I just don’t have anything to wear!”

“You’ll be in your swimsuit anyway- just throw something on and lets go!” you rushed her and she quickly put her shorts and T-shirt over. 

“Yeah, you’re right. I really don’t give a damn of how I look.” she laughed, grabbed her bag and started running after you.

---

It was rare to be hot in Britian but when it was, you wanted to enjoy the heat and the sun burning your skin. 

It was such a nice summer day. There was music coming from the stereos and students talking, laughing, some of them even playing volleyball and you? You were sun tanning. At times you pulled yourself up on your elbows and looked around, specifically on the group of boys at the other side of the lake. 

All shirtless, including Remus who finally showed his pecks you didn’t know existed. James had his body lines and muscles nicely toned, including the V-line that followed to his trunks. He and Sirius were joking around, playfully fighting and pushing each other in the water. You could hear Sirius bark-like laugh from all over there and it plastered a nostalgic smile on your lips. 

You and him used to laugh together all the way. He wasn’t that nicely rippd as the other two but his shape was nicely fit and for some reason you couldn’t look away. 

And then- then the most perfect thing happened. 

‘ You and Sirius were studying for your final exams in your 5th year. He kept groaning and whining as he kept re-reading the same line for the past 5 minutes. 

“Come on, Black. Just one more exam.” you said as you flipped the page.

“No.” He jumped on his feet and walked to his stereo, turning on the radio and surfing through the stations for some music. 

‘I’m begging! - the song started and Sirius couldn’t help himself but smile so brightly, jumping on his feet and clapping  

“Sirius no!” you laughed at his funky dance moves 

‘ Beggin', beggin' you Put your loving hand out baby ‘ - he put his hand on his heart and started walking towards you, pulling you up. 

“Come on, baby. Put your loving hand out dar-darling!” 

‘ Riding high, when I was king Played it hard and fast, cause I had everything!’ - he continued to sing outloud and to your surprise he had a nice voice. 

He interwined his fingers with yours and pulled you close, both dancing and laughing as the song continued.’

The two of you made so many dance moves to this song that day and when you heard the same intro, your eyes locked with his so fast until James hand pushed Sirius face back into the water. 

You let out a giggle as he came back out, confused and his hair all over his face. He pushed James back and slicked back his wet hair, lookign back at you, smiling and singing along the lyrcs.

‘ Walked away, won me then But easy come and easy go And it would end-’ 

He could see the giggles coming from all that distance, so with a leap of his heart, he jumped out of the water and started to make his way to you. 

Running before the next few lines of the song could come, you stood up as well and just let it play out. 

‘  So why anytime I bleed, you let me go Anytime I feed you get me know Anytime I see you let me know But, I plan and see just let me goI'm on my knees when I'm (beggin'g) Cause I don't want to lose (you) -’

He was now close to you, dripping from water and panting from the run and watching you with apologetic eyes. Opening his arms he continued.  “ I got my arms on spread And I hope that my heart gets fed, matter of fact girl I'm beggin'.” 

You stayed quiet for the chorus, letting him watch your reaction and letting his smile falter. He bit his lips, completely embarrased from what he did but it was after the chorus, that you grabbed his hand and started singing.

“ I need you, (yeah) to understand Tried so hard To be your man The kind of man you want in the end Only then can I begin to live again.” you pressed yourself on his chest, feelign your heart flutter on his touch and smiling so wide your cheeks started to hurt. 

Happy as a man could be, Sirius spun you around until you were back to his chest, his hand on your hip just for a few moments before he spun you away and continued to sing the next part. 

‘ An empty shell I used to be Shadow of my life Was hangin' over meA broken man That I don't know Won't even stand the devils dance To win my soul ‘ 

You laughed and he did as well because all this song was planned for when the two of you were 15, singing it back in his room during studying. Whenever it came on the radio, the two of you would sing out your part, no matter how awful your voices sounded. 

‘ Why we chewing, why we chasing Why the bottom, why the basement Why we got good shit don't embrace it Why the feel for the need to replace me ‘ - both of you sang together, throwing your hands and jumping just as you did 3 years ago, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you close as you wrapped your arms around him as well, swinging on both of your feet. 

The song continued to play but the two of you continued to stay in each other’s arms, his cold and wet body against your heated one. Overjoyed as he was, he let his nose dig into the crook of your neck, smelling the shampoo he was so obsessed with but this time it was a fresh scent of watermelon. 

He pulled away and cupped your cheeks. “Watermelon?”

You laughed at his obsession with your shampoos and nodded. “Yeah. Nice fragmence.” you shrugged and grabbed your towel, turning to your friends. “I’m going to the other side for a while- that’s alright?” you asked as Fran put up her glasses and checked Sirius from head to toe, grinning. 

“Honey, as long as I can come with you? Might introducing me to the tall one?” all the two of you turned to the guy she was pointing.

“Moony?” Sirius smiled.

“Remus?” you looked at her and gave her a wink. “Sure.” you said without feeling any kind of jealousy feeling inside of you as you thought you would. 

Fran got up and grabbed her stuff as well, following the two of you. You let Sirius go a bit further so you could lean to Fran and whisper in her ear. “The abs one.” you smiled and she turned, smiling cheekely as well. 

“Yeah?”

“Fantastic kisser.” you said, pulling down your glasses and running to Sirius side. 

---

There wasn’t a sconf of an awkward moment between the group when you and Fran came. James had his eyes narrowed at the two of you meanwhile Remus kept smirking at the sun, just knowing he was right. Right about you and Sirius, right about how everything would turn out anyway and right in general. It brought him some sort of pleasure but if he was honest with himself, he truly wished that he wasn’t right for this. 

“Took you long enough.” James beamed, giving you a long hug and squeezing you tightly. “Thought we’d have to- you know?” you could feel his arm muscles tighten as he lifted you and started carrying towards the lake.

“James- James! James don’t you fuckign dare! James!” you continued to try get out of his grip when he threw both of the two of you into the cold water. 

You felt your whole heated, sunburnt body get washed by the coldness of the water, James arms wrapping around your stomach and pulling you out with him into the surface, laughing. “Welcome back ,Twizzlers.”

“YOU TWAT!” you splashed and kicked him underwater as he pulled you back and took a hold of your head.

“Take a deep breath baby.” he said and you could feel yourself panic a bit as he dunked your under again. 

You swam around him and tried to do the same but he kept his arms fighting yours and he dunked you again until Sirius jumped in, screaming.

“CANON BALL!” he shouted as he splashed next to the two of you, dunking James head under water and smiling at you as he held him under. “He gets cocky if he always wins.” he winked at you with a smile as you laughed.

“Makes two of you.” 

---

When the evening started to approach and only a few more people stayed, mostly Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. 

Sirius continued to watch you from his spot. Since you sat down on the pier and dipped your into the lake, swinging them back and forth. 

Nobody could really know what Sirius was thinking but both of the one boy had a a close idea of what he might be thinking. Remus and Fran were both gone somewhere and James was just about to leave. He couldn’t yet. Not until Sirius was next to you. 

“You know- you’ve waited for years to tell her how you feel, if you continue to do so, it’s going to turn worse than before.” he told him, standing up and grabbing his towel before leaving him. 

When he turned around, he could see Sirius standing up and slowly making his way to you. Pleased with himself, he left the two of you alone. 

Sirius stopped a few feet behind you. He could feel his heart throbbing inside of him but at the same time, the calm lake and the following clouds on the sky that you observed so distinctively let the throb fade. 

You could feel him when he sat down next to you. His eyes watchign forward, his legs swinging gently from the dock. It was only a couple of moments when his eyes averted from the sky to you. He was observing- observing the burns on your nose and cheeks- the sticky tuft of your hair that was pulled up into a bun but some falling down because of the weak rubber-band. 

You looked at him as well, your eyes in this perfect doting join.

“A day doesn’t go by I don’t think of what I did to you. You and the other three that day. “ he started and you sighed, trying to interrupt him.

“Sirius-”

“No, just let me say this.” he said, looking away for a moment before locking his eyes with yours. “I knew it was you. I knew it was you when you called out my name and tried to pull me away. I knew- at first I thought that it was Peter because that could have been excuse that I didn’t mean it but I was so hurt- so hurt when Remus told me that you and him-” he stopped, looking away and clearing his throat. “Uhm...I knew it was you but I was so angry- I was SO angry at you, at the world, at this stupid destiny where you don’t love me like I want you to love me. I punished you for it. I hit you because I had noone else to hit but you have to believe me, (y/n), I regretted it right after. I wouldn’t do that to you- I wouldn’t but I did and I think I’ll probably regret it till the day that I die.” his eyes started to tear up but you quickly took his hand and brought it to your cheek. 

“When we started hanging out, I was in love with you. I was so in love with how you could make me feel at times, you know but I didn’t want to be one of those girls and I wanted to prove that to you. I wanted to prove to you I could be more to you than those girls- and then you started flirting with other girls and I was relieved because then we could still be friends and not have it complicated.” you smiled and saw his eyes falling out of his head when you said you were in love with him. “James was funny. He was and I knew since I couldn’t have you, I can have him because you never liked me the way I liked you, so I just stopped liking you and you didn’t mind me flirting with James so I thought that was it.”

“And then 5th year happened and I realized I was in love with you. I tried to bury it. I really did because you were my best friend but then a thought kept repeating itself in my head, saying that being in love with my best friend isn’t really a bad idea, is it.”

“Well I didn’t realize you did fancy me back until 7th year-”

“The bracelet?” he asked and you laughed. 

“I thought it was just a token of your love for me but months after you not dating anybody but hover around me kind of made me think.” 

“Every day before I went to see you I tried to repeat what I wanted to say. Then you kissed James and I was so mad- so mad your first kiss was with James and not me. Because you can’t ever forget your first kiss-”

“You and Jill?”

“Yeah-” he laughed, reminiscing back. “Still, all I could think about was what you said about soulmates and first kisses, you know? I guess if I kissed you first, you’d think I was your soulmate- or something- I don’t know.” he tried to laugh it off, knowing it was probably a stupid thing to say... but it was true and he promised himself to tell you everything. “And then Remus- and Remus is an excellent kisser, better than James-”

“What?” you cut in, watching him with shock. “You kissed-”

“Everybody kisses their friends at least once.” he shrugged. “Except us appereantly.” he leaned and wiggled his eyebrows meanwhile you scoffed and pushed him back. 

“In your dreams, Black.” you laughed and he leaned back on his arms, swinging his legs.

“Worth a try.” he smiled. 

“I promised myself I won’t get involved with you four anymore.” you said. “Since the whole Remus fiasco- we didn’t... I mean, when you said if we... if we slept together. We didn’t.” 

He turned his head to you, watching your whole face features as he simpered. “I know. Remus explained the whole deal.” he then narrowed his eyes at you and continued. “You got Remus drunk. James and I have been trying to get him drunk for years.” 

“Well, you and James are clearly not a woman.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” he laughed.

“Let’s say you were at a party- and that you weren’t an alcoholic that you were- a girl approaches you and offers you a drink. Would you take it?” 

“Yes.”

“And if your friends who were always so clearly drunk and irresponsible offered you a drink, would you take it?”

“Is that an insult?”

“Sirius...”

“I get your point.” he brushed his hand in defeat, looking back at the sight in front of you. 

You followed his eyes and let the silence take over. 

“So what now?” he asked. “What are we?”

“Are you still in love with me?” you asked him as he kept quiet, putting up his hand and for the first time since he sat down, you noticed the bracelet he wore- your bracelet. 

He twisted it around his wrist and smiled at it. “I’d like to think so, yes.” he smiled at you. “Are you in love with me?” he asked, watching your eyes so focused on the bracelet. 

Smiling, he took it off his hand and offered to put it on you. 

“It was always meant to be yours.” he said and you put up your hand, feeling your heart tighten in your chest. “If you still want it?” 

“I do.” you nodded, feeling your eyes water but you quickly dried them off. 

He put the bracelet back on your wrist and later pulled out the long chain from his trunks’ pocket. 

You couldn’t believe your eyes. He kept it.

He put the chain around his neck and clasped it together, bringing the silver in to the front. “I kept it and I never told anybody where I got it.” he kept the ring in his hands before letting it hang around his neck, looking at you. “So...” he said and you looked up at his eyes. “Are you in love with me still?” 

He was prepared. His whole body was prepared, tense, veins beating in sync with his heart. 

“Maybe.” you said, smiling.

“Maybe?” he asked, smiling. “Is that a yes? A no?”

“It’s a maybe.” you continued to smile, though you knew the exact answer to his question, you just didn’t want to let him know it yet.

“Than if it’s a maybe, I’ll wait.” he stood up and offered you a hand. “Whatever the real answer is-” he pulled you up until the two of you were chest to chest. “-I’ll still want you to be in my life. Friends or not. I could live with us being just friends but I could never live without you being a part of my life.” he said, pulling you into a hug and holding you, knowing what he said was the truth and knowing excatly that besides that one regret, he wouldn’t have any more of them. 

[immabethehero]

Schneeplestein Apparently Has a Heart

The good doctor’s birthday is here and of course I wrote a story! Just warning, this story is quite dark. Read the trigger warnings below.

TW: Suicide attempt by gunshot (not seen, just implied), suicidal thoughts and words, extreme distress, minor violence, blood mentioned.

For the short amount of time that Jackieboy Man and Marvin the Magnificent have lived with Dr. Henrik Nicholas von Schneeplestein, MD, PhD, MVP, FFS, they have learned a few important lessons, or rules:

NEVER, under any circumstances, touch the top left cupboard on the outside of the kitchen opening. That’s where Schneep’s coffee supply is, and if you touch it, even ONCE, Schneep will be out for your blood.

UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES should you mention Schneep’s wife, Lisette Schneeplestein. Apparently, the French brunette whom Schneep has been married to for the past 7 years has fucked off (Schneep’s words) back to France with her tennis instructor, Rick, short for Ricardo (Italian, apparently) and taken their two daughters with her. (Schneep has cleaned out Lisette and the girls’ rooms, and all the belongings they have left behind, in their efforts to leave so quickly, are packed away in storage containers in the garage. Schneep has yet to mail them to Lisette’s new address.)

DO NOT wake Schneep earlier than 10 AM in the morning if it’s his one day off. Despite having an early bird’s job, Schneep is not a morning person. Another reason why Schneep is dependent on coffee.

UNLESS it is an emergency, no one but Schneep is allowed in his office. As there are so many things to keep track of, and so many papers that could easily be misplaced, it is best not to touch, or even go inside the office, lest you want to throw the doctor off his game or have the doctor throw you off a cliff.

Despite these four unspoken yet very specific rules, Marvin and Jackie have learned one more this past month: despite the doctor’s arrogant, haughty, snappy, disgusting, even FERAL demeanour, he truly is a good person.

It just took a new ego to show them that.

March 30th, 2017. Schneep’s mail has been unceremoniously thrown onto the dining room table. Schneep’s hands, long and graceful, slide through the envelopes and fliers, organizing them into piles, from taxes and business inquiries to subscriptions and sales.

Jackie lazily eats his cereal, watching Schneep sort through the mail like a madman. Geez, just how popular is this guy?! It’s almost as wild as Jack’s mail. At least there’s more interesting stuff for Jack... drawings, letters of encouragement and thanks, even the rare crocheted or sculpted gift.

Schneep freezes when he comes across a particular letter, one with a cutesy pin cupcake logo. His eyes grow solemn as he picks it up and shakily opens it. Jackie cocks his head.

“Something wrong, doctor?” he asks lightly.

Schneep looks up. “Hm? Oh!” He sighs. “It’s from a baking class Sophia and I used to take together. Lisette had insisted I learn how to cook as well, so it wouldn’t always be her making the meals, and she figured it would be good bonding for me and Sophia. Soph loved those classes. We’d learn all sorts of fascinating recipes and bring the results home. They were fun, and very sweet.”

Jackie nods seriously. He knows he should leave it there, but something’s confusing him. “It’s been quite a few months since you stopped going. Why are they sending you stuff now?”

Schneep unfolds the letter. As he reads it, his eyes widen and a smile begins curling at his lips.

Somehow, that only makes more questions. “What…?”

“It’s not the company themself, it’s Chase! He was a friend from the classes! I haven’t spoken to him in forever! He’s such a lovely person, it’d be nice to see him again!” Schneep grabs his phone and hastily types in the number at the bottom of the letter. He squeals and runs off, like a teenager who just got a text from their crush.

The letter lies on the table, open for all to read. Jackie knows better than to pry into other people’s lives, but this letter is wide open, and it’s not like Schneep needs to know, so the superhero leans over and reads.

Hey Henrik,

This is probably weird to get, but I lost your phone number and I don’t know what your address is, so I asked the dudes at the baking class if I could send a letter to you via their services.

It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, and I thought I’d better check in and see how you’re doing, see how bachelor life is treating you. Stacy and the kids miss seeing you as well. I wanna talk to you again.

My cell is #1273-545-8903.

Hope to see you soon!

Chase Brody

Chase Brody. That sounds like an American to Jackie’s ears. He does seem like a good person, if Schneep’s reaction wasn’t enough. He must have been a friend for Schneep when the doctor went through his divorce.

The name itself sounds familiar, like a local celebrity or something. Jackie makes a mental note to look it up later. He leans back and finishes his cereal just as Schneep comes back, holding his phone out. Marvin finally emerges, his green hair resembling a rat’s nest, and no mask. Jackie takes pride in the fact that Marvin now feels comfortable enough to show his face in front of Schneep and Jackie.

“Well, change of plans, I won’t be able to come home in time for dinner with you guys,” Schneep announces. Jackie nods.

“Wait what? Why?” Marvin slurs, slumping down at the dining room table.

“I’m going to see Chase after my shift today. We agreed to meet in the park,” Schneep explains curtly, and leaves.

“Did I miss something?” Marvin asks, turning to Jackie. Jackie nods down to the letter. Marvin leans over to read, only for the letter to be snatched up by the doctor.

“Who said you could go through my stuff?!” Schneep snapped. He stormed off, letter clutched firmly in his hand. Marvin sneers at Jackie, who only shrugs and winks. The magician rolls his eyes, but he understands. A shrug and a wink means I’ll tell you later.

Schneep throws on his brown coat and grabs his bag. “Have a nice day, boys. If I don’t see you later tonight, sweet dreams and I’ll see you in the morning.” He flies out, coat flapping behind him.

“He’s gotta show me how he rocks an overcoat so well. I’m jealous of the way he holds himself. So professional,” Marvin remarks. He quickly turns to Jackie. “Spill the tea.”

“Schneep’s meeting an old friend from a baking class he used to take with his daughter,” Jackie says. “His name is Chase Brody. The name sounds so familiar to me, and I don’t know why.”

“Look it up on your phone,” Marvin suggests. Jackie does just that.

Immediately, Wikipedia comes to the egos’ rescue. Chase Brody, (born April 11th, 1988)  is an American-Irish Youtuber who is best known for his Youtube channel, Bro Average. As of February 2017, his channel has over 20 million views and over 10 million subscribers.

“Oh yeah, the trickshot vlogger!” Jackie says. “I like watching his stuff, he’s a funny dude.”

Marvin nods. “He must have kids as well.  He wouldn’t be taking classes if he didn’t.”

Jackie scrolls down to Personal Life. “‘Chase is married to Stacy Matthews, and they have three children as of 2017, two biological twins, and one recently adopted daughter.’” The selfie provided shows a man with fair skin and bright blue eyes standing next to a red-headed lady doing a duckface.

“Hm. Sounds like he’s living the good life,” Marvin says. “A well-paid job, a nice family, a happy life.”

Boy, is he wrong.

At 5 PM exactly, Schneep sits at the bench by the great oak tree, waiting for Chase. He wraps his blue and navy scarf tighter around his neck as a cool breeze whisks by. Despite what the weather people promised, Athlone is nowhere near warm, despite it being spring. He examines the park-goers who walk by, picking up on every accident that could occur.

Parents swinging their child up and down: a broken arm, arms could pull out of their sockets, or the child could fall on their head and get a concussion. Or worse, permanent brain injuries.

Kids climbing trees: Another chance to fall and hit their tiny heads and sustain brain damage, if not that, broken limbs and splinters.

Teenagers skateboarding: more broken bones and limbs, but at least SOME are smart enough to put pads and helmets on. Others have no chance of recovering fully from brain damage or concussions should they fall on their heads-

“Henrik!” Henrik snaps to life and looks around. A man wearing a puffy black jacket, torn jeans and a snapback with a pink skull on it runs over to him. Schneep stands up.

“Chase Brody! Wie geht es dir mein freund?” Schneep cries out in delight, holding his arms out. Chase happily throws himself into them.

“I’m doing as well as I can, at least. It’s so good to see your face,” Chase sighs. He nuzzles Henrik’s hair, taking in the sanitizer and mint smell he’s gotten used to. “I’ve missed you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Schneep says. “Come, sit down next to me! Tell me how things have been.  How are Stacy and your kids? Has Chloe adjusted to the new timezone yet?” Chloe is Chase’s recently adopted daughter from China. Schneep’s last visit with the Brody’s involved meeting her.

Chase’s smile fades and he sits down next to Schneep. “Um…”

Schneep’s stomach sinks. “That’s never good. What happened? Who died?!”

“Calm down, Henrik!” Chase exclaims. “No one died! Everyone’s fine. Chloe’s adjusted quite nicely.”

“Then why do you look so sad?!” Schneep cries.

Chase fidgets with his jacket zipper, mumbling incomprehensibly. Henrik leans closer. “Didn’t catch that.”

“StacyandIaregettingadivorce,” Chase whispers. Schneep’s stomach flips and sinks.

“What?”

“Stacy and I are getting divorced,” Chase repeats, louder now. “She said she still loves me, but not quite in a… romantic way, I guess. She wants us to just be friends.”

“Well, at least she still wants to be on friendly terms, I guess!” Schneep says. “Still, I can’t believe it… you two were such a sweet couple… so in love…”

“There’s another reason why she wants a divorce,” Chase admits. Schneep’s eyes turn wide as saucers.

“She’s seeing someone. An old friend from high school. I’ve seen her texts,” Chase says. He scrunches up the end of his shirt, nose wrinkling. Schneep hears him sniff.

“I don’t know how long it’s gone on… and I know she didn’t mean to… but still…” Chase finally looks up, eyes tearing. “How could she do that? I would have been okay with it! Maybe. I don’t know!” Chase buries his face in his hands.

Schneep pats Chase’s shoulder gently. He can’t believe Stacy cheated! She and Chase were such a romantic couple! They seemed so happy! Why would Stacy throw that all away for some whore? “What a bitch…”

Chase suddenly whacks Schneep’s hand off, eyes fierce. “Don’t call her that! It’s not like that!  At least she still wants me in her life! She’s not like Lisette!” An awkward silence fills the air.

Chase gasps. “Henrik, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it that way-”

“Oh!” Schneep cries. “It’s fine! It’s no big deal!” Yeah, that was a low blow, but he would rather Chase doesn’t end up like him: cranky, alienating, friendless, alone. He needs a friend more than ever.

“No it’s not, I just sunk really low! You must be furious-”

“I’m not, I promise!” He’s not, surprisingly. Is this growth?! What the fuck?!

“I need to control myself better. I’m a grownup, for fuck’s sake, I should know better…” Chase moans, burrowing his head in his hands again.

“Chase!” Schneep exclaims. “You mustn’t beat yourself up like that! You’re one of my very best friends, which isn’t saying much because I don’t have any, but still! You have to be one of the nicest people I know! You’re anything but a dick!”

“I feel like you’re just saying that to make me feel better,” Chase mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

“I’m not, I swear !” Schneep says.

“I’m sorry, Henrik, I really am,” Chase says.

“I forgive you,” Schneep says, and means it. “I’m serious.”

“I should go,” Chase decides, standing. Schneep gets up as well.

“What? No! I’m not mad!” he protests.

“It’s my turn to pick the kids up,” Chase snaps. “I’ll see you around, Henrik. Sorry I can’t stay long.” He briskly runs off.

Schneeplestein yells and kicks the bench. “FUCK! FUCK! AAAHHH!!!”

Other park visitors turn in confusion, watching the strange man kick the bench and scream.

Schneep freezes when he notices everyone staring at him. He storms back to his car, slams the door shut and continues his screaming.

Once Schneep has finished “releasing his anger” (Jackie’s words, not his) he “reflects on the situation” (also Jackie’s words). What could he do to make Chase feel better?

He stays in the car for an hour, letting the world pass by as he thinks. By the time the sun has set, he has an idea.

Jackie and Marvin glare at each other from across the hall. Sirius the cat has hidden, choosing not to get involved. The little pegs in the cribbage board are neck-in-neck, both pegs exactly 4 steps away from the end hole. The egos stare at their cards.

“Four,” Jackie announces, putting the card down.

“Fourteen,” Marvin says.

The door flies open and Schneep rushes in, hair windswept and out of breath. “Where’s Jack?!” he demands.

“Out in his universe,” Jackie responds. “Fifteen for two!” He puts down an ace.

“Sixteen for two!” Marvin slams the ace down, looking triumphant. Jackie flips him off.

“When will he visit?!” Schneep questions.

“When he wishes,” Jackie responds. “Twenty-five!”

“How can I contact him?!”

“Why are you so interested?!” Marvin asks. “Thirty-one, bitch!” He flips Jackie off.

“I have a request for him!” Schneep responds curtly. 

“What kind?” Jackie asks.

“It’s for a friend,” Schneep brushes him off, heading to his lab.

“Chase Brody?” Marvin guesses. Jackie kicks him.

Schneep turns around. “What did you say?”

Marvin gulps. “You left your letter on the table for me to read. I was fast enough to catch the gist before you snatched it up. So how is Chase Brody?”

Schneep growls softly and walks back to the table. Marvin sits up with his head held high, bracing himself for the punishment. No matter what Schneep does, slugging, kicking, ruining his hair, the magician can take it.  He’s been through worse.

To Marvin and Jackie’s surprise, Schneep pulls up a chair and sits down. The doctor takes a deep breath. “Chase Brody is divorcing his wife. That’s all I’m going to say.”

Jackie and Marvin nod in understanding. “That’s sad to hear,” Jackie remarks, solemnly.

“But how’s talking to Jack going to help?” Marvin queries.

“I want him to make a video for Chase,” Schneep says. “If this so-called community exists, I want to see them show their love for Chase! It’s the least he deserves!”

Marvin and Jackie catch each other’s gaze. Schneep glares at Jackie expectantly.

“Well? You’ve lived with Jack the longest. How do you contact him?!” Schneep demands.

“I have his number in case of emergencies, but I’ve never had a reason to call him! I don’t even know if he’s available,” Jackie explains.

“He has to be.  What else does a man who plays video games for a living do?!” Schneep snaps, incredulous. “It’s not like he has to be places or anything!” He looms over Jackie, a desperate, pleading look in his eyes. Jackie nearly topples out of his chair.

“I guess I could give it a shot,” the superhero mumbles.

Schneep squeals in delight and wraps his arms tightly around Jackie in what Jackie assumes to be a hug. The superhero pats the doctor’s arms, taken aback by his strength.

After a few sickeningly sweet seconds, Marvin pipes up, “Uh, doc? I think Jackie needs to be able to breathe in order to call Jack.”

Sheepishly, Schneeplestein lets Jackie go. The superhero gulps in big gasps of air, before grabbing his phone and dialing Jack’s number.

A day later, Jack McLoughlin sits at the egos’ dining room table, chomping away on mashed potatoes and a juicy steak.

“My goodness, you never told me what a good chef you were, Schneep!” he sighs in ecstasy.

Schneep bows his head, face glowing red. Jackie raises an eyebrow. Schneep almost NEVER blushes when given a compliment. It’s strange to see the doctor act so shy and humble around someone, especially Jack. It feels like only yesterday Schneep was bombarding Jack with questions about where he came from and how the alternate universe worked. Since that day, Jack has quickly risen to become one of Schneep’s favourite people on the planet. Not that Jackie is jealous or anything…

“Just a little recipe I learned for my wife…” Schneep mutters, playing with the end of his lab coat. Across the table, Marvin snickers lightly, watching the doctor fumble for words. Finally, some entertainment!

“So, what was the call for?” Jack asks. “Just wanted to say hi?” His expression darkens. “Is it Anti? What did he do?!”

“It’s not Anti.  We haven’t heard from him for a while!” Jackie says. Jack sighs in relief.

“I mean, I know I made that video for PAX and all but I just wanted to make sure,” Jack says.

“You made an Anti video for PAX?!” Marvin cries. “Why?”

“Because the fans would enjoy it! Also because I was running out of ideas for what to do for an opening,” Jack admits. “It just seemed like the right amount of fun and originality without being too over the top!”

“When is Anti not over the top?” Jackie scoffs. That earns a laugh from the others.

“Actually, it’s Schneep who has a question for you,” Marvin says.

Jack turns to Schneeplestein. Schneep’s smile disappears. He looks around the table, watching everyone’s gaze. He grins nervously at Jack.

“Could I ask you in private? This stuff… it is… personal.”

“Sure. Let’s go,” Jack says, standing up. Schneep follows after him.

In the upstairs hallway, Schneep spills everything. He explains who Chase is, what’s going on in his life, and how he believes making Chase an ego could help his situation.

“Make another ego? Oh god, I’m having enough trouble managing you all right now,” Jack admits.

“All you have to do is make one video. The fans can do the rest,” Schneep presses.

“How?”

“By showing their love for Chase! He’s a funny and sweet guy! Your fans would love him!”

“How will the community’s love help a man struggling with a divorce?” Jack questions.

“Their love will lift his spirits and he will feel more confident and happy! You said you noticed a difference in us after the community made content of us! If that is really true, then I want to see them show their love for Chase. It’s the least he deserves!”

Jack is silent, contemplating the pros and cons. Finally, he sighs and says, “Can you show me what he usually does?”

Schneep types something into his phone. He logs onto Youtube and types a channel name into the search bar. Bro Average.

“Bro Average? Is that a parody of Dude Perfect?” Jack asks, chuckling.

“Well, it’s because there’s only one person performing every stunt, and because it’s less... professional than the other channel,” Schneep explains. “For example-”

The video shows Chase at a park, holding a Nerf gun and wearing a goofy grin. “Sup, guys! I’m Chase, and welcome to Bro Average!” He shoots a nerf dart off-screen, only for it to crash into something, invoking a cat screech. Chase pretends to be startled.

It flashes forward to Chase in a tree. “This one’s called, ‘Multitasking’!” He hangs off a branch while trying to knock over six cups stacked up on each other with darts. Jack can’t stop snickering at Chase’s antics, as he wobbles and threatens to lose his balance. Chase yelps and squeals, and a few times, swearing can be heard, though it’s censored by loud beeps. Finally, Chase hits his target, just as the branch snaps. Chase whoops with glee as he crashes onto the ground, the branch smacking into his head. His cameraman runs over to him, worried, but Chase is rolling on the ground in laughter as tears run down his face.

“He is not nearly as good as the professionals, but his humour and authenticness bring in the fans,” Schneep says, smiling.

“He sounds like a blast!” Jack takes the phone and begins to skim through Chase’s videos. “I bet I could make something work! I’ll borrow an office space, bring a couple friends and film a few shots! Can’t be that hard!”

“So you will do it?!” Schneep cries.

“Absolutely! Give me a couple days and it will be ready!”

Schneep cheers and engulfs Jack in a bear hug. Jack laughs and pats his friend’s back. It’s nice to see the doctor open up at last to his new roommates and creator, and so quickly, as well. Jack decides Schneep can be rewarded for his good nature by granting his wish and helping out a new friend.

A few weeks pass. Schneeplestein schedules more visits with Chase. The two fathers laugh and chat, learning more about each other and discussing whatever they please without the worry of kids hearing. Schneep feels his spirits lift whenever he sees Chase’s snapback and hears his cheerful voice.

In the night, a familiar sensation returns to the egos’ dreams. Sounds of a Nerf gun, kids laughing and on the rare occasion, a man crying fills the egos’ heads as they sleep. Schneep feels his heart break when he hears Chase’s cries. He hopes this video will help Chase. It has to.

April 11th, 2017. The egos are gathered around the dining room table, Jack’s Youtube account open on his laptop. 

Jack idly sits at the centre, waiting for Schneep to arrive with Chase. Marvin and Jackie play another round of cribbage, and this time Jackie seems to be way ahead on the board, much to the magician’s dismay.

“I’m going to be skunked! I hate this game so fucking much!” Marvin gripes, as he receives two points for his math efforts.

Jackie snickers as he counts his cards. “This takes both luck and skill. You’re a fast learner, Marv.  I’m sure you’ll pull through soon.”

“Not soon enough,” grumbles Marvin as Jackie moves his peg 16 points.

The door opens and Schneep walks in with Chase Brody right behind him. Compared to the laughing man with the warm aura in Google Images, this Chase looks cold and kind of grumpy.

“Chase, this is Jack McLoughlin, our ‘creator’ and a wonderful man,” Schneep introduces. Jack awkwardly holds his hand out for a shake. Even though he’s seen versions of himself several times this past year, it’s still rather unnerving to be given death stares by himself but with yellow hair, snapback and a fair share of freckles.

“Jack, this is Chase Brody, your newest ego and the face of Bro Average!” Schneep continues. Chase raises an eyebrow.

“Ego? Like alter ego?” Chase turns to the others, and realizes that they share the same hair and face. “Oh... my... dog. Am I a fictional character?! Is this a character intervention with the narrator?! Whatever happened, I promise, I didn’t do it! Sally encouraged me to eat the worm!” Chase kneels before Jack, cowering and whimpering.

Jack chuckles nervously. “Relax, Chase! Technically, you are a fictional character-” Chase shrieks in alarm.

“But only in another universe. You’re very much a real person in this one,” Schneep concludes, helping Chase up by the arm. Chase shakes the doctor off and Schneep tries his best to hide his hurt.

“To put it simply, some of the videos on my channel don’t exist in this universe. This is because they’re about you… egos,” Jack recites. “You’re the most recent ego, however, your video and beginnings are a bit different because I already had some course material to go off of.”

Jack clicks play on the video. Chase sits down and gasps as Jack-as-Chase flies around the office, performing trickshots and screaming like a toddler who drank too much apple juice. Is… is this him?! The accuracy! Holy shit! They even got his bloopers right! Creepy!!! Is he being stalked?!

Schneep watches from afar, fidgeting with his lab coat. Chase hasn’t moved once since the video started. He doesn’t look angry… but at the same time, he doesn’t seem to be enjoying his Power Hour. Truth be told, it’s not like the Doctor particularly likes his Power Hour either. Jack didn’t have to go and mention his cheating wife… or the fact that Peter did die at one point… Nonetheless, Chase is just sitting there, with wide eyes.

Jack, on the other hand, is already regretting what he did. Perhaps he emphasized too much on the “Not-As-Professional-Or-Successful” part. Maybe he made Chase too goofy or not as three-dimensional as he could have. The Youtuber catches a glimpse of the screen. Oh no. It’s the part with-

“Stacy, please, I know, I’m trying to get all the shots, look, just please don’t take the kids!” Jack-as-Chase pleads. Schneep and Jack-in-the-flesh turn white as a ghost. Chase frowns.

“This one’s called, ‘I’m Staying At My Sister’s This Weekend’!” Jack-as-Chase announces. It flashes back to him on the phone. “Well, I don’t care what your sister says! Just please! At least let me see them on the weekend still!”

Jack scratched his neck nervously and teethed on his knuckles, face beet red. Chase looks horrified. Schneep looks just as worried. Marvin and Jackie awkwardly stand up to leave.

Chase pauses the video just as Jack-as-Chase sobs. He takes a deep breath and turns to face his “creator”. “So… are you the reason my wife and I are getting a divorce?”

Jack gapes, taken aback by Chase’s accusation. He doesn’t want to throw Schneep under the bus, but at the same time, Chase wasn’t exactly “created” like the others-

“Not exactly!” Schneep interferes. “It… it was my idea. I thought if I got Jack to make a tribute video in honour of you, it would help you!”

“Help me?!” Chase laughs, a harsh and cold sound compared to his whoops and chuckles in his videos. “How?! By running my wife’s name through the dirt?!” Jack flinches.

“Fair enough,” Schneep says with a groan. “I should have been more specific when I said divorce and kids.”

“You told-?!”

“I thought if you knew you had a big name on your side you’d feel better! It was supposed to be a little treat!” Schneep counters.

“Oh, what am I, a little pity party to you?” Chase snaps. “My divorce was private information, Schneep.  Why else did you think I wanted to talk to you alone?! Now the whole world knows and Stacy’s going to be treated horribly because of you shits-”

“Not the whole world!” Schneep exclaims. “Just… all… of Jack’s world.”

“Shut up,” Chase hisses. “I don’t care that there’s more than one universe. So be it. What I care about is the fact that you betrayed my trust and now people are going to treat Stacy like she was a freaking bitch. This may come as a surprise to both you and Jack, but not all women are cheating whores like Lisette, asshole!”

SMACK. Chase cries out. The egos and Jack huddle together. Schneep’s breathing slows as he registers the sting in his hand and Chase rubbing his red cheek.

Schneep takes a deep breath, and in chilling, low, icy words, he snarls, “Don’t ever say her name again.”

Chase recovers from the slap and storms over to the door. “Whatever. You know what?! Stay away from me and whatever’s left of my family. I don’t care if I’m a part of your ‘creator’s’ story or whatever, I JUST WANT YOU OUT OF MY LIFE.” Chase grabs his coat and slams the door shut with a loud BANG. Schneep remains at the dining room, breathing unsteadily, vision somewhat blurry.

“Doctor? Are you alright?” Jackie whispers, reaching a hand out.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” Schneep runs upstairs to his room and slams the door. Muffled sobs soon echo down the hallway.

Jack’s heart breaks in two. He really thought this video was a good idea. Somehow, all it brought was pain. He sighs defeatedly and slumps down at the table. Marvin closes the laptop.

“Shit… that was awful…”

“And it was supposed to be Chase’s birthday present!” Jack moans. “Ahhhhh, I feel like an asshole… I shouldn’t have been so mean…”

“It’s not your fault…” Jackie soothes. “You made an assumption and played it with satire. Schneep shares some of the blame as well. He should have kept that part quiet.”

“And I should have kept that out of the video…” Jack sighs. “Now Chase feels even worse about the divorce and he wants nothing to do with us…”

Jackie and Marvin sit down beside Jack and rub his back. Jack sighs again and rests his head on the table.

Upstairs, Schneep screams into his pillow, tears finally flowing. He hates himself and Chase and everything that’s happened. That’s what he gets for helping a friend. Ungrateful bastard-

No. Schneep should have known better! That was private information, he had no right poking his nose in and telling everyone. Well, it was just one person, but still! Now Chase never wants to speak to him again and he’s lost the only friend he’s had in a while and everything sucks and he just wants to curl up and die. Schneep pulls his hair and screams again. He can’t sleep, but at the same time, he can’t do anything else. So he remains in bed, crying and thinking. Eventually, long into the night, he falls asleep, cheeks wet and eyes sore.

Schneep wakes up feeling like absolute shit. His cheeks are somewhat sticky and damp. He must have been crying in his sleep. His stomach feels awful. But it’s a work day, so he gets out of bed.

Schneep stumbles into his ensuite bathroom and splashes cold water on his face. He shudders when he sees his reflection. Grey skin, messy hair, red eyes. He doesn’t smell so good either. Sighing sadly, Schneep throws off his clothes and turns on the shower faucet.

When he hops out of the shower, he puts on his scrubs and grabs his spare labcoat. He trudges downstairs, where Marvin is waiting with fluffy chocolate-chip pancakes on the table.

“Morning, doc,” Marvin greets cheerfully. His smile fades when he sees Schneep’s ashen face. ���Everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” Schneep replies hoarsely.

“I made you some coffee,” Marvin continues. “I know you like it.”

Schneep grunts softly and pours himself a large cup. As he drinks he heads to the hook of keys by the front door, only to find-

“Where are my keys?” Schneep asks, staring at the space where his car keys used to hang.

“I saw Sirius knock them off earlier,” Marvin replies, flipping through the nearest magazine. “I tried to catch her, but she’s so fast.”

“Where is she right now?” Schneep inquires, trying to sound as calm as possible.

“Beats me. I can’t control her,” Marvin says calmly.

Schneep growls and pounds on the table. Marvin jumps slightly, but quickly recovers and goes back to his reading.

“This isn’t funny, Marvin.  I need to get to work!” Schneep snaps. “I’m already falling behind schedule.”

Marvin snorts, looking up from the magazine. “You think you’re fit to go to work? Your face is bright pink, you’ve got large shadows under your eyes and I heard you crying for who knows how many hours last night.”

“I have allergies! They were just acting up!” Schneep snaps.

“Oh, really? Allergies? That’s rich coming from the man who claims to have ‘the strongest immune system in the world’!” Marvin scoffs.

“Even the strongest immune systems have off days, okay?!”

“That doesn’t even make any sense! Henrik, are you even hearing yourself?!”

Schneep fights back more tears. “Marvin, please, tell me where the keys are! I can’t be late for work!”

“And you won’t be! I called the hospital and asked them to give you a day off!” Marvin says.

Schneep almost drops his mug. “You… you did what?!”

“I told them it was a family emergency,” Marvin admits. “And that we didn’t know how long it would be. They understood, told me to tell you to take as many days off as you need.”

“Which is none,” Schneep scowls. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes, I am!”

“Henrik, you said you didn’t want Chase to go through his divorce alone and friendless, like you. You’re going through a tough time right now.  The last thing you need is to be alone.”

Schneep gapes at the magician, tears threatening to fall. Marvin stares back, heart thumping loudly. He prays he didn’t say the wrong thing. He hopes this works.

Maybe it’s because he didn't get enough sleep, or maybe it’s because he’s never had anyone be so concerned for his well-being that they screwed up his schedule, but Henrik finally lets his anguish go, and collapses, bawling like a little baby. Marvin gets down from his seat and wraps his arms around the doctor, soothing him and singing softly.

Jackie finally emerges from the bathroom, and joins the cuddle pile in the kitchen. As Henrik finally slumps completely into Marvin’s arms, he and the superhero high-five and move the sleeping doctor into the living room for a day of Netflix and cuddles.

Five days pass. Henrik sits at his desk, tapping his pen. In front of him is the start of a letter, with only the words “Dear Chase,” written on it.  He needs to apologize to Chase, but just doing it by text seems insensitive. So written letter it is! Now… where to start…

Dear Chase,

I’m sorry. What I did was wrong and there’s no way to excuse my behaviour. I really believed I was doing the right thing by telling Jack, but I should have known better than to air dirty laundry.

The doctor shakes his head and crumples up the page. He can do better than that. Now to start over-

His phone begins playing the familiar sound of a monitor beeping. He really needs to change his ringtone.  It’s too painful to hear after all the dead patients that came with it.

Henrik freezes when he notices the name. Chase. Why is he calling? Heart thumping and hands shaking, Henrik picks up the phone.

“Hello? Chase?”

“H-hi, d-doc…” Chase answers in a raspy whisper. The sound of sniffling is not lost on Henrik.

“Chase? Are you okay?”

“Not really…” Another sniffle. “But I will be… soon.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry for all the shit I said… It was wrong of me to bring up your own divorce… I-I shouldn’t have been so harsh…”

“No, Chase, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have brought up your divorce in the first place! I thought I was doing good by telling Jack, but he clearly misinterpreted it. I shouldn’t have mentioned it…”

“It’s alright… you were just trying to make me feel bet-better… I just overreacted… I overreact to eve-everything… I’m such a bay-baby.” Chase sounds like he’s holding back tears.

“No you’re not. You had every right to be mad… I’m sorry for slapping you. How’s your cheek?”

Schneep hears Chase chuckle softly. “It’s fine… It doesn’t hurt as much as other injuries…” The laugh turns into a sob.

“Other injuries?! What do you mean?!” Henrik demands. “Chase, you’re worrying me!”

“I’m sorry… I can’t seem to do anything right… All I do is upset people…” Chase is outright crying now.

“Chase, please tell me where you are,” Henrik pleads, getting up. “I need to make sure you’re okay!”

“No… I don’t think you’ll want to see this…” Chase mumbles. He takes a deep but shuddery breath. “I have to go. Goodbye, Henrik.”

“Chase?! CHASE?!” Henrik screams. The phone line goes dead. Henrik yelps and quickly rushes into his contacts. He finds Stacy’s name and calls her.

She answers on the first ring. “Henrik? It’s been so long! How are you?”

“Where is Chase right now?”

“What?”

“Where is he living?”

“What’s going on? What did he say to you? Is he okay?”

“Call 999. I don’t believe so.”

Henrik hangs up and dashes out of his office, up the stairs and to the front door, where he grabs his keys and coat. Marvin and Jackie sit at the kitchen island, both on their phones.

“Henrik? What’s going on?”

“I have to go to the hospital. I’ll be back,” Henrik answers curtly. He throws on his coat and leaves.

Henrik runs into the hospital and quickly signs himself in. A nurse comes by and squeaks in surprise when she sees him.

“Dr. Schneeplestein? What are you doing here? Isn’t today your day off?”

“Time is broken, Cass,” Dr. Schneeplestein replies. He dashes off to the emergency room. Cass quickens her pace, trying her best to catch up to him.

“Have there been any emergencies yet?” Schneep demands.

“I think an ambulance is arriving soon-” Cass begins.

“Who’s the patient?” Schneep asks.

“A man attempted suicide-” Cass starts.

“I’ll treat him,” Schneep announces.

The doors open and medics rush in, driving a man on a gurney. Schneep pales when he sees red. The good doctor swallows his fear and tears. Now is not the time to be a baby. He’s not called the good doctor for nothing. Time to save Chase’s life.

Hours later, five nurses come in to find Dr. Schneeplestein exhaustedly sobbing against the wall, shoulders convulsing as he cries into his hands. On the gurney lies a man with yellow hair poking out of a large bandage wrapped around his head. The monitor beeps rhythmically, and the man’s chest rises and falls slowly. So why is the doctor crying?

Three nurses wheel Chase out while the other two bend down next to Schneep. One nurse, Kate, tentatively places a hand on his shoulder. He jumps in shock.

“Schneeplestein? Are you alright?” Kate asks.

Schneep smiles shakily. “He’ll live…” He shivers and whimpers. “Oh god… so much could have happened… So much could have gone wrong… I thought I lost him a few times...” the doctor breaks off with another sob.

“Why don’t you head home? Today is your day off,” Kate suggests.

“In a little while… I need to speak to the patient first…” Schneep replies in a raspy voice. Kate nods. She and the other nurse, Matt, help the doctor up. His legs wobble and almost give out. Schneep takes a deep breath and slowly  makes his way out of the operating room and into his office.

An hour later,  Henrik reappears, wearing his comfy labcoat and drinking some tea, a rarity considering how much the doctor prefers coffee. But he needs to relax, and so Matt whipped up a nice cup of tea.

Henrik pulls up a chair and sets his cup down. He looks down at the sleeping man, face as white as the bandage wrapped around his head. Chase has never looked more fragile and vulnerable. His cheeks are sunken and there are large bags under his eyes.

Henrik rubs his face. Truthfully, he’s just as tired. He looks up at the clock. 1:11 am. God, he was in the operating room for quite a while. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be as stressed as he was today. He leans back and closes his eyes. Maybe he can get a quick nap before-

“Dr. Schneeplestein?” He opens his eyes and looks up. His stomach flips when he notices a woman with red hair that falls in waves down her shoulders.  Her soft brown eyes are full of compassion and worry. Stacy Brody. Or Stacy Matthews, to be more precise.

“Stacy…” Henrik mumbles. “What… I mean, I’m sorry. I understand this must be a lot for you.”

“I can’t believe it… I mean, I knew about his depression, I just didn’t think it would get this bad,” Stacy says, voice soft and sad.

Henrik nods. “Yes. One can’t help but wonder what the breaking point was.”

“It’s because of me, isn’t it?” Stacy whispers hoarsely, staring down at her ex-husband’s skinny frame. “I did cheat on him. I told him I wanted a divorce after he found out… I wonder what would have happened if I told him straight up about Delilah… I wonder how he would have reacted…”

Henrik is speechless. He can’t really say it isn’t her fault, but at the same time, it wasn’t as if she could straight up tell him. There really was no way of telling how he would have reacted. Henrik groans and rubs his eyes again. He can’t think straight.

His mind flickers back to the video, and his stomach sinks. Did that video… influence his decision? Should he tell her about it? Would she be mad? He takes a deep breath.

“I mentioned your divorce to another friend,” he finally says. “Said friend made a video that I think mocked Chase more than flattered him. I thought it would help… but it didn’t. Only made him even more upset.”

“A video? Was this the video that ‘Jack’ made?” Stacy asks. Henrik opens his eyes, horrified. How long has she known?! Oh god, she must despise him! Henrik whirls around to face her, face riddled with guilt.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think he’d take it in that direction- It was a shitty idea, I was so invasive and it was absolutely despicable of me and-”

“Hey, calm down, it’s okay! It was an honest mistake!” Stacy responds calmly. “Chase told me about it. He felt awful and he was so pissed with you guys. I will admit I was a bit peeved at first, but Chase said he yelled at you and broke off his friendship with you, so I figured it was punishment enough.”

“He also brought up my wife,” Henrik says. “So I punched him.”

Stacy nods. “Ah, that’s where the bruise came from.”

Henrik cringes. Damn, did he actually hit Chase that hard? He really is a dick. He sighs and stands up. “You are more than welcome to punch me. I deserve it. I never should have brought up the divorce. It was hateful of me, really.”

Stacy shakes her head. “Oh no, I couldn’t! You saved Chase from the brink of death. It’d be so insensitive of me!”

“I insist.” Henrik holds his head up. Stacy reluctantly stands up, and raises an open palm.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaks.

“It’s fine, I can handle it,” Henrik says.

Stacy takes a deep breath… and punches him. Henrik falls back into the chair from the force. Stacy cringes.

“You… have a very strong punch,” Henrik remarks, holding his throbbing cheek. He holds a finger up when he sees her mouth move. “Don’t apologize. You were right to do so.”

“I took karate as a kid,” Stacy boasts. “I won a black belt at age five.”

“Good for you! To be honest, it wasn’t nearly as hard as my wife’s,” Henrik admits.

“Well, at least I got my ‘revenge’- wait, what?!” Stacy does a double take. “Lisette used to punch you?!”

“She only did it once,” Henrik quickly adds. “After I called her a whore.”

“Oh. That explains a lot,” Stacy deadpans.

“I deserved that as well,” Henrik says. “I just wish she hadn’t moved so far away… I wonder how the girls are doing...”

“Have your children contacted you?” Stacy lightly presses.

“I’ve tried to contact them,” Henrik says. “I don’t think Lisette lets them write or call me.”

“Then Lisette really is an ass,” Stacy explodes. “What if they do want to talk to you? She can’t hide them from you just because she doesn’t like you.”

“That doesn’t seem to stop her. I keep my phone nearby in case Sophia calls when her mother isn’t around.” Henrik pats his pocket. “Or maybe Rick will let her. He’s quite nice and he’s good with kids, which is why I was quite surprised when he turned out to be-”

“A homewrecker?” Stacy suggests. Henrik glares at her, scandalized, but she can tell he’s trying to suppress a smile.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, snickering.

“I was gonna say an ass, but that’s better,” he says. Stacy bursts out laughing, but it quickly fades when she notices Chase. She clears her throat.

“I’m going to take the kids away for a while,” she reveals. “At least until he’s emotionally stable to look after the kids.”

“You know Chase would never let his depression get in the way of being a good father,” Henrik protests.

“I know. I just feel he needs a break from it all,” Stacy says. “Mostly family life, me and Delilah in particular. Maybe she and I could go to my cottage in Scotland. We can stay there until he feels ready to share custody once more. He can’t be alone, though. We know what will happen if he does. He can’t go back home either. We still need to wash out the blood and dispose of any guns he might have. Of course I mean the real guns, but he might not want his Nerf toys either. He needs to be with someone , and that can’t be me. I just don’t know anyone he could stay with who lives in Athlone. We only just moved here.”

Henrik lights up. Holy shit. It’s like destiny! This is the perfect opportunity! “He can move in with us. He’s already an ego. He’d love it there. Sure it’s a bit chaotic, but I think he’d love it!”

Stacy raises an eyebrow. “What sort of chaotic?” she questions.

“The local superhero likes to crash there, we have a magician who INSISTS on using us for test subjects for his latest tricks, and me, the ‘feral doctor’,” Henrik lists off. “Come to think of it, I’m actually the voice of reason.”

Stacy tries her best to hide a shudder. “I feel a little worried about his safety. And no offense, but it’s a bit concerning that you’re the voice of reason in that house.”

Henrik scoffs in mock insult and shoves her gently. “Oh screw you! To be honest, Jackie is actually the smart one. I’m the one who pays the taxes and keeps a roof over their head. They’re the ones who overstayed their visit.”

Stacy rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. She looks more relaxed than when she walked in. She stands up.

“I think it’s time I left. Good luck, Chase. I wish you all the best with your recovery.” Stacy leans over and gently kisses Chase’s cheek before turning to Henrik and holding her hand out. Henrik returns it and gives it a small squeeze, only to be pulled in for a hug. He gasps in surprise.

“Thank you Henrik,” she whispers. Henrik nods and returns the hug, holding her tightly until she signals to let go. Stacy picks up her bag and leaves.

Henrik sits back down and takes out his cellphone to call the egos. Jackie picks up after the first ring.

“Henrik? Are you okay?”

“I want you to clean the house and make some hot chocolate. We’ve got a new roommate coming to stay with us!” Henrik announces.

“Is it Chase? Is that who we’re taking in?” Jackie asks.

“Yes. I want everything to be perfect, so go! Get cleaning!” the doctor commands.

“Need us to pick you up?” Marvin suggests.

“I can drive just fine! See you soon!” Henrik hangs up just as Chase begins to stir. The doctor watches him apprehensively. He hasn’t seen Chase since the argument. How will he react?

Chase groggily opens his eyes. He can see a bright light shining down on him and closes his eyes. “Where… where am I?”

He slowly attempts to sit up. A soft pair of hands gently help him sit up and rub his back. 

Chase blinks, trying to clear his vision. The blurry blue shape slowly comes into view… Henrik! The good doctor sits beside him with an anxious expression on his face.

Chase wracks his memory to try to remember what had happened. He can feel a heavy fabric wrapped around his head. He lifts a hand to better investigate… oh.

Henrik’s heart breaks when he sees Chase drop his hand, expression forlorn. Here we go, he thinks.

“Chase?” Chase looks up. “Before you say anything, know that you have every right to be mad at me and Jack. What we did was despicable and absolutely awful. You don’t have to forgive us, and I completely understand if you never do. But you can’t be alone right now. You’re going through a really tough time, and the last thing you need to be is alone. I don’t know if you’ll accept it, but we have an extra room at home that would be a perfect spot for you to stay while you recover. I know you might not want to talk to me, but Jackie and Marvin are living with me, and they will ensure your time there will be as comfortable as possible. It’s fine if you don’t want to go, but just know that we will always be there when you need a place to stay.”

Chase is silent, simply gazing at Henrik with unshed tears. Finally, he throws his arms around Henrik’s neck. Henrik startles, but returns the hug.

“Is that a yes?” Henrik mumbles. Chase nods. Henrik sighs in relief and squeezes Chase tighter. Now all he has to do is hope Jackie and Marvin have the house ready by the time he returns.

Henrik parks the car in the driveway and turns to Chase. The vlogger fidgets with his t-shirt. Henrik puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Just warning you now, while Jackie and Marvin have good hearts and intentions, they can be little shits and there’s a good chance the house will still be a mess when we get back in. Good luck.”

Chase whimpers in fear. Henrik nods solemnly. “My thoughts exactly.”

The fathers unload the car and walk up to the front steps. Henrik takes a deep breath and opens the door.

“FIFTEEN FUCKING POINTS! I WIN AGAIN MOTHERFUCKER!” Jackie screeches. Marvin roars in anger and tosses a pillow at Jackie, who backhands it. The pillow soars across the house and slams into Henrik, who grunts in alarm and falls backward. Chase shrieks in alarm, gaping at his fallen friend.

Marvin and Jackie turn around, bright blue eyes glaring into Chase. Marvin’s eye twitches sporadically and Jackie smiles like a madman. Chase nervously waves. Marvin clears his throat and forces a sleep-deprived smile.

“Howdy, Chase!”

[let-it-raines]

Okay, now I know you're accepting prompts for the CMIYC verse, expect a whole lot of them coming from me 😂I'd LOVE to see Emma finding out she's pregnant, and her telling Killian, and just their whole journey through her pregnancy!

This isn’t going to cover everything you asked for @dorisquinn but I’ve got 2/3. You can send me all of the prompts you want. Honestly, seeing your enthusiasm as well as the enthusiasm of others to still want parts of this universe makes me so happy! You guys should see the timeline I just mapped out to make sure everything stays cohesive because I’ve got some more extras to write for you guys 🙈

found on ao3 | here |

-/-

March 2022.

“These boxes are never going to get unpacked.”

“We could have hired someone, you know.”

“I’m not even working full-time right now. There’s no need for us to have hired someone when all I’m doing is sitting at home.”

“You go to meetings…on occasion.”

“I have a meeting tomorrow. Stop making that look on your face, twenty-nine.”

“There’s not a look on my face, besides a handsome one.”

Emma huffs and falls back against the wall, sinking down onto the ground and pulling her knees to her chest. They should have moved as soon as last season ended. It would have given them more time to unpack the ridiculous amount of stuff they somehow accumulated over the past three years, but there was a problem with the closing and then the plumbing, and they officially signed for this place two weeks into spring training. Killian had to fly back from Florida for the paperwork, spent one night in the house with her where all they had was their bed set up, and then he went straight back to the hell that is Florida humidity.

At least they’re not there for months at a time in the summer. Everyone would die. It’s bad enough when they’re in Tampa for a few days at a time.

(Then again, humidity in New York in the summer is no joke.)

She could have flown down and stayed with him, already has for a few days here and there, but they need to get settled before the season starts and things get insane. Things are really never not insane, but there are definitely periods where there is a little more peace.

Off-season is undoubtedly her favorite season.

She loves baseball and the game and working almost every day, but having Killian home for months at a time and being able to sleep in their own bed instead of a hotel bed is so much better than anything else.

Emma definitely wants the off-season back.

And this house to be unpacked.

One of those things is more likely to happen than the other, and it’s not the house getting unpacked.

“I miss you,” Emma whispers into the phone.

“I miss you, love. You know you can fly down anytime, right? There’s nothing keeping you there. It’s been less than a week, but I miss you terribly.”

She flips the camera around to all of the boxes. “I don’t want to be living in chaos. I want, like, some kind of organization. I told myself that when I left my room key with you that I would not be flying back to Florida. I have to get this place functional.”“I know we’ve been married for nearly a year, love, but I don’t think you should be turning into me quite this quickly with all of that talk of organization.”“Technically, as far as everyone else knows, we’re only nine months into this whole marriage thing, so that’s not quite a year.”

“Specifics.”“Ruby was over here yesterday helping me unpack and found the pictures from the clerk’s office. I’m pretty sure she figured us out.”“I think David has known for awhile now.”“Why do you think that?”

“Just a hunch.”Emma groans and scoots further down on the floor. “If David knew, he would have said something.”“Aye, you’re likely right.” Killian smiles, his face slightly pixilated. “Come see me this weekend, Swan. I know you said no more flights, but maybe just the one more. I’ll take you to dinner. Wine and dine you and all that.”“I think there’s a third part of that proposition.”

Killian gasps and holds his hand to his chest. “Dirty.”

“You know it, twenty-nine.”

“I think you mean sixty-nine.”

“Oh my God.”

Killian chuckles and pushes his hair back. It’s too long again. He hasn’t gotten it cut in months, and as handsome as he looks, she’s desperately waiting for him to get it cut. Suggesting it hasn’t really worked out well for her, but if he likes it long, he likes it long. It’s not like she’d appreciate it if he told her to shave her legs or something like that.

“I’ve got to go to workouts, but I’ll call you again tonight, yeah?”

“I look forward to it. I love you.”“And I you, my love.”

The video lingers for a moment, and then it disconnects, only the memory of Killian’s smile there.

She misses him like crazy. It’s ridiculous and stupid and kind of annoying. Maybe she should go down and see him this weekend. It’s not like she has this weekend. Spring training is almost over, and she could wait it out. She really could. That’s what she’s told herself she’ll do, but should she if she doesn’t have to? Maybe if she gets enough boxes unpacked.

Hell, maybe she should just cave and hire people to do it for her, but she put up such a dumb fight when Killian suggested it that she doesn’t want to admit to failure now. Not that he’d ever truly judge her for it.

Okay. He’d judge her a little bit.

Her phone buzzes in her hand.

Elsa: You planning on letting me in?

Shit. The doorbell didn’t sound, and Emma didn’t hear a knock at the door. Quickly, she stands from the ground and kicks a box to the side before hurrying down two sets of stairs to get to the front door. She loves having more space than the apartment, but she doesn’t love all of the stairs. At least, right now. Soon she’ll hopefully kick ass at being able to walk up and down them quickly.

Hopefully her ass will look fantastic because of it too.

Damn Manhattan and its lack of space.

“Hey,” Emma greets after unlocking the front door. “Did you ring the doorbell?”

“I did.”

“Well shit.” Emma leans forward and wraps her arms around Elsa. “I guess our doorbell is broken too. Do you know anything about electrical work?”

“I know how to hook up our cable, but that’s about it.”

“Then what good are you to me?”

“I bring you donuts.”

“Bless you.”

“I know.” Elsa steps inside, closing the door behind her, and immediately walks toward the kitchen where she puts down the bag of donuts she’s carrying and then immediately starts looking around the room. “Have you unpacked any of the kitchen?”

“A few things. Mostly things I use. It’s all Killian’s, and he hasn’t really been here to tell me where to put anything. I don’t know his system as well as I should.”

“Do you have silverware out? Plates and bowls?”

“I have a few things but not all of it.”

Elsa sighs and pulls her shorts up and then adjusts her t-shirt. She took the day off to help Emma unpack, and, really, she should be lounging around watching TV or something. “I don’t mean to go all mom on you, but grab a donut. We’re about to unpack your kitchen. Then we move to your bedroom and your closet so you can at least function. Everything else will come later.”

“As long as I get a donut, this all sounds good to me.”

“You can have another if you finish this room.”

“I’m good with a bribe.”

“Incentive. It makes it sound less dirty.”

Emma laughs. “Deal.”

Elsa is some kind of unpacking machine. It’s actually ridiculous. She knows exactly how to store everything in their cabinets and the pantry, and while Emma is sure Killian will rearrange it all when he realizes it’s not to his specifications, after three hours, they have all of the kitchen boxes emptied. It’s practically a miracle, and Emma didn’t even need an extra donut to make her do the work.

(An extra donut is sounding really good right now, though. Elsa got the good kind.)

All she really needed was Elsa. If they had Anna here, though, Emma imagines the entire house would be finished by now. Well, if Anna wasn’t eight months pregnant. Mary Margaret would probably be the better choice, but she’s got a class full of third-graders to attend to. Ruby, however, would bring everything to a halt because she’d get distracted by the things she was unpacking.

They move upstairs and back to the bedroom after they’re finished in kitchen, and Elsa sticks to the bedroom while Emma works in the closet. She’s got some of her clothes up, mostly her workout stuff, and even though their stuff is boxed in a way that should make it easy to hang up several things at once, Emma keeps getting distracted trying to organize it in a way that’s not something she’s going to sustain.

Seriously. Who is organized enough to keep things sorted by color?

Killian. Killian is. He organizes his freaking t-shirts by how old they are.

The weirdo.

Emma finally decides to just do it by type of clothing, and after she’s gotten all of her dresses on the racks, she decides that she needs some kind of break. She did not sleep last night, and no amount of coffee could wake her up.

Has she even had coffee today?

Or maybe she’s simply bored by having to unpack. That’s a lot of the same thing over and over again, and all Emma really wants to be doing is watching Netflix.

Slowly, she slides back down to the ground and pulls out her phone again, answering her texts and then clicking on Instagram to move away the notifications. It’s all stuff Killian has tagged her in, and she quickly moves through the videos and memes before clicking on his page. It’s been mostly baseball lately, pictures of him, Will, and Robin, but if she scrolls a little further back, there are pictures of Liam and Elsa or Addy and Lucy. And then there are pictures of her. She mostly uses social media for work, but she does like to get on and see what Killian has posted. It’s usually something she’s never seen, and there are at least ten pictures on here that she had no idea were taken.

There’s one in particular that she likes the most. It’s from last November. They were in Portland for Thanksgiving sitting on the swing in Ruth’s backyard, and Killian snapped a photo of her drinking coffee, the sun glinting off of her skin in just the right way so that she looked tanner than she actually was.

My love forever, the caption reads.

That day had been…hard. It had been fucking awful, actually, but Killian had wrapped his arms around her and held her until it wasn’t so awful.

That’s what he does. He makes awful days feel that little bit better simply by being there.

She likes that, likes that she has that forever now.

My love forever.

She has had that love for awhile with David and Ruth, with her friends too, and while she doesn’t like to put some relationships over others, Killian does get the slightest elevation.

It’s good to have all that love. It’s healthy, and if someone asked her twenty years ago if she’d ever have any of this, she would have laughed in their face.

She can’t stop staring at the photo and all of the memories behind it. She had been so sure that morning, and it wasn’t…she wasn’t.

“Hey, Emma, do you have – woah, what’s wrong?”

“What?” Emma sniffles, wiping below her eyes. “What makes you think something is wrong?”

“You’re sitting on the floor sniffling and wiping your eyes. Those are pretty big clues.”

Emma scoffs. “I’m fine.”“You’re a liar.”“Els, I’m fine.”

“I believe you about as much as I believe Killian when he says that.” Elsa walks over to her to and slides down onto the floor next to her, kicking away a shoe and grabbing onto Emma’s forearm. “You want to talk about whatever it is? You know you don’t have to, but I’m a good listener. I couldn’t be married to Liam if I wasn’t.”

“Liam does talk a lot.”

“I think it’s a Jones family trait.”

“I think I might be pregnant.”

She might have that trait too for the way she just blurted that out.

Elsa gasps, and Emma braces herself for it just like she braces herself for it every time this conversation comes up. She’s the one who brought it up this time, but it was kind of inevitable when this is honestly all she’s been thinking about for two days now.

For a little more than two days if she’s totally honest.

“I didn’t…I’m not,” Emma stutters, trying to continue talking before she shuts herself up, “I never thought I would be someone who wanted a baby. I thought I was going to be alone for so much of my life, so when Killian and I decided to try and kept having these negative tests, I don’t know. I, well, it sucks, and it’s been really damn hard. It hasn’t even been a long time, and we’re still so young. I probably shouldn’t even complain because I know it’s harder for other people. It’s just that a part of me feels like I’ve gotten so much good in my life I was never supposed to get. What if this is the thing I don’t get? What if I have this feeling in my gut now because it’s some kind of sign that I should give up before my hopes get too high?”

“Oh, darling,” Elsa sighs as she wraps her arm around Emma’s back and pulls her toward her, rubbing her hand up and down her arm, “you can’t think like that. The world doesn’t give you a certain amount of good and then just stop. You can have more good than you think you deserve. I do. And that feeling of helplessness when it comes to getting pregnant and it not working as fast as you want? I’ve had that too. It’s what happened with Lucy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I thought maybe Addison was going to be it for us, and we were like you two. We hadn’t been trying for a long time, but it could still feel hopeless when Addison was so easy. Getting pregnant is hard, and unless you talk to others like this, there’s no way you’d know. All you’d see is the happy announcements and the smiles.”

Emma turns her head into Elsa’s shoulder. It’s a good thing she’s not wearing mascara because she’d totally ruin Elsa’s t-shirt.

“So I’m not some kind of freak show for sitting in my closet freaking out about this?”

“Emma, having a baby, or even the possibility of it, is the most terrifying thing in the world. If you weren’t having meltdowns, I’d be concerned about you.”

“This is so not in my wheelhouse,” Emma mumbles. “I talk for a living, talking about this is…different.”

“Baseballs and babies aren’t exactly in the same category.”

“They are on Family Day.”“Yeah, well, you know what I mean.”

Emma huffs and pulls away from Elsa, leaning her head back against the wall. “This closet is still such a mess. My shoes are everywhere.”

“Oh, I know. I think I’m going to need to borrow those wedges that are caught up underneath the pile of Killian’s jerseys.”

“They are yours to borrow.”

“Not to keep?”

“Nah, I like them too much for that.”

Elsa laughs and twists on the ground until she’s facing Emma, small smile on her face. “You’re going to be okay. You and Killian both. And if you ever need to talk, Liam and I are always here. Anna too.”

“Anna is eight months pregnant with twins. All she does is warn people against getting pregnant. I don’t think she’s ever going to have sex again.”

“Can you blame her?”

“Absolutely not.”

Elsa claps her hands together. “Okay, let’s conquer this closet, and then I’m taking you home with me for dinner so you’re not left in this house stalking your husband’s Instagram.”

“I was not doing that.”

“You totally were. I could see it on your screen when I walked in.”

“I’m taking away your shoe privileges.”

Elsa quickly gets up and runs over to the wedges, picking them up. “Nope. They’re mine now.”

-/-

She’s pregnant.

Or, at least, that’s what the three tests she took this morning said.

Emma had gone over to Liam and Elsa’s last night for dinner, and she’d forgotten about everything. She really had, and it had been nice not to think about it and to be able to know that her life was going to go on no matter what. She knew that. Logically, she did. Her life is not defined by what a pregnancy test says, but when it’s what you want…

When it’s what she and Killian want.

And they might get now.

Oh shit. She is not ready to give birth.

That’s not even happening right now, or in the near future, but it’s going to happen. Emma’s pretty sure it’s some kind of torture device designed to make being a woman even more difficult, but she’s got to stop thinking of that right now.

What she’s got to start thinking about is the fact that she’s in New York while Killian is in Florida.

Florida.

Shit. She’s got to book a flight to Florida.

She said she wasn’t going to do it, but that was before she knew for sure.

That was before.

Where the hell is her neck pillow?

Emma gets off the rim of the tub and walks into the bedroom, grabbing her laptop off the charger and stretching out on the bed while trying to find the next flight. There are a few this afternoon, but she’s got meetings she can’t cancel. There’s one she might be able to make around seven, though, and she quickly enters her information and books a one-way ticket.

She’s never been so excited to go to Florida.

-/-

“Can I get an extra key to room 835?”

“And your name is?”

“Emma Jones.”

The receptionist starts typing on her keyboard, looking up at Emma and then looking back at her computer, her brows furrowed. “I’m sorry. There’s not an Emma Jones in that room.”

“I know. It’s my husband’s room. It’s under his name. Killian Jones. It should be under the block of rooms for the Yankees.”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I can’t give you a key to that room. It’s our policy, especially when it comes to our VIP guests in our suites. It’s for their safety.”

Emma has to fight the urge to roll her eyes. She’s exhausted. It’s been a long ass day, she sat next to someone who snored the entire flight down here, and all she wants to do is see Killian. Why the hell did she leave her key with Killian last week?

Oh, yeah, because she wasn’t supposed to come back.

“If I was some kind of stalker, how would I know his room number?”

“You would be surprised what people know.”

She sighs and pulls out her phone, clicking on Ariel’s name.

“Emma?”

“Ariel, can you get me an extra key to Killian’s room?”

“Are you here?” Ariel squeals before quieting. “Wait.” There’s a mumble and then the sound of a chair squeaking before Ariel’s voice comes back into focus. “Sorry. We’re out at dinner, and I had to move away from the table. This is a surprise, right?”

“Mhm.”

“That is literally the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You need to hear more things.”

“Oh, hush. I’ll call the front desk. We’ve got to be back soon anyways because I have to relieve the babysitter for Morgan, so it won’t be too long.”

“That sounds perfect. I’ll probably see you tomorrow, okay?”

“I can’t wait, and I promise that my lips are sealed.”

They hang up, and the front desk’s phone immediately rings. The receptionist nods and smiles and is completely and totally nice to Ariel, typing in a few things on her computer as she avoids eye contact with Emma. Then the conversation is over and Emma is being handed a card.

“This works for both the elevator and the room. Have a nice night, Mrs. Jones.”

“Thanks,” Emma says, forcing a smile. She knows the woman was just doing her job, but it doesn’t keep her from being annoyed. She’s not about to be pissy with her though. “Have a good night.”

Grabbing her luggage, she maneuvers out of the lobby and to the elevator. She knows this hotel better than any other hotel in the country from how much she’s stayed here, and she easily makes her way up to Killian’s room, sliding the card in the door and sighing in relief that the clerk actually gave her a key that worked. She was worried that she wouldn’t.

Killian’s suite is clean, and Emma knows it’s not just because of housekeeping. The man is so damn particular about everything, and even though all she wants to do is curl up in bed and go to sleep, she opens up her suitcase and starts putting her few clothes away, making sure not to mess with any of Killian’s stuff. It’s what he would end up doing later anyways, and if she does it now, it’ll be one less thing he’ll have to focus on.

How the hell is she supposed to tell him that she’s pregnant?

That’s something she should have focused on for the flight down here, but all she could think about was how much she wanted to murder the man who was snoring next to her.

She’s going to be great at the whole getting no sleep thing.

Did she really want this? Did they? Are they crazy? What drives someone to want to have a baby? Yeah, they’re cute, but then they grow up and yell at you for telling them not to eat straight sugar for dinner. And she didn’t have parents. Well, she has Ruth, but she didn’t have Ruth for fifteen years. Killian’s mom died, and his dad is a piece of shit. What do either of them know about babies and being parents?

What do either of them know about kids in general?

Well, they do have nieces and nephews and friends with kids. Hell, their friends have had so many kids. It’s like in the past two years all anyone has done is pop a kid out and –

The door to the suite beeps, and Emma doesn’t even realize she’s been pacing for a long time until Killian’s standing right in front of her blinking with his mouth wide open.

“Hi,” Emma squeaks out.

It’s official. She is not herself today.

“Fucking hell,” Killian mumbles.

“Well, that’s always the greeting a girl – ”

Killian strides forward and cups her cheeks before pulling her to him with his mouth, sucking on her bottom lip before he starts moving and can’t seem to stop. It’s been less than a week. That’s all. It hasn’t even been that long since they’ve been apart. They make it a point to never go more than nine days, but she’s missed him more than she ever has.

Melodramatic and all that.

“What,” he starts, still kissing her, “are,” he continues as his lips move to her jaw, “you,” he sighs against her cheek, “doing,” he whispers against her eyelid, “here?” he finishes as his lips find hers once more while their foreheads rest against each other.

“I really missed Scarlet.”

Killian tilts his head back and barks out a laugh as his hands move from her cheeks to her biceps, squeezing them. Her stomach is absolutely swirling.

“God, I love you. You’re – ” He shakes his head, and his eyes crinkle. He’s gotten darker during training, and there’s the slightest tan line from where he’ll wear his hat backwards during pitching drills outside.

“I’m what?”

“Well, if I were to list all of the things you are, I imagine we’d be standing here forever.”

Emma scoffs and pushes at his chest before moving closer once more so she can wrap her arms around his neck. “Why are you the way that you are?”

“Charming? I believe I was born this way.”

It’s Emma’s turn to shake her head at him. She presses up on her toes and lingers until her breath is ghosting over his mouth. “I love you, twenty-nine.”

“Good. I love you, Swan.”

She finally kisses him then, and Killian slowly backs her up to the bed until she’s falling down on top of it. All thoughts leave her mind as his lips and his hands move over her, and they truly disappear when his mouth is between her thighs and all she can think is how damn good that feels. It almost always does, like some kind of magic that’s bottled between the two of them, and even when it’s not good, Emma knows that there’s no one she’d rather get lockjaw or really unfortunate cramps with.

And weirdly, as Killian swivels his hips and hits just the right rhythm, she knows that no matter how much she’s freaking out about everything, the two of them have got this.

“Did you know the front-desk clerk thought I was a stalker?” Emma asks later. They haven’t changed back into any clothes, and Emma can’t seem to stop twirling Killian’s chest hair around her fingers while his hand dances across her back, tracing familiar words there.

“Really now?”

“Mhm. I tried to get a room key, and she refused to give me one.”

“Ah, well, I have been having an influx of stalkers lately. It must be my devilishly good looks.”

“You’re never lacking in confidence, are you? Even when it comes to joking about something that’s not funny.”

“You would know more than anyone how that isn’t true.”

Emma leans down to kiss his chest before resting her chin there. The air conditioner clicks on, and a cold rush of air runs over Emma’s bare skin. Killian tugs the comforter up over a little more of her back, and they sit in silence as Emma starts counting how fast her heart is beating. If she doesn’t tell him tonight, she won’t sleep. It’ll eat at her until the morning, and with how exhausted she is from not sleeping two nights in a row, she really can’t afford another night without sleep.

She also hasn’t had coffee in days. That has sucked.

“Killian, I – ”

She stops when his finger traces her name into her back. “What is it, love?”

“Nothing,” Emma begins, even if she knows it’s everything. “It’s just…Killian, I’m pregnant.”

For the rest of her life she’ll remember that Killian stopped blinking for a few seconds too long. She’ll remember that his eyes are slightly red-rimmed from his own lack of sleep, and she’ll remember the way that slowly but surely his lips curl from a small smile to one of the brightest she’s ever seen from him.

“Are you? For real? I’m not imagining this conversation?”

Emma inhales and nods. “I think so. I wouldn’t be far along. Like, at all, so anything could happen. But my period is late, and I took, like, three tests this morning that were positive. Peeing on a stick never feels normal.”

Killian chuckles as his free hand comes around to tuck her hair behind her ear. He’s so gentle like that, and she doesn’t know what she did to deserve him. He can be hot-headed and impatient and ready to act on his anger instead of thinking it through, but at his core, Killian Jones is a good man.

“Aye, I imagine not.”

He leans down to glide his lips over hers, and even if Emma had imagined what it would be like to tell Killian they better start reading all of those books so they have some clue what they’re doing, she knows none of it would be better than this.

Calm and content and like they were always supposed to end up here.

“I love you, Swan,” Killian whispers as his hand shifts from her back to her stomach. “I don’t – thank you for being by my side for all of this.”“Always, twenty-nine. Always.”

-/-

-/-

Tag list: @bluewildcatfanatic​ @killianswannn @dorisquinn​ @onepunintendid​ @authorarsinoe​ @stunningswan​ @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury​ @superchocovian​ @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog​ @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings​ @carpedzem​ @tornadoamy​ ​

[mydemimonde]

‘muse’: ch. 1 | matt (bbtl)

matt x oc fanfic

warnings: none!

a/n: this will obviously be divided in chapters, but idk how many lmao. hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER 1

Luton, 1981.

“Why do you have to leave? Why can’t you stay with us?” he asked, almost crying. His best friend was leaving them for good, they won’t be able to see her again.

“I’m sorry Javed. My dad found a job in Liverpool and we have to move. I don’t want to, but I have to” Mia answered trying to comfort her friend.

“You could stay in my house. My mum would love to have you living with us…” Javed muttered the last words, looking down at his feet.

Mia smiled. He was such a nice guy. “I know she would. I would too. But Liverpool isn’t that far! I could come to visit you in summer” she assured him, looking at the brunette boy next to Javed. “Right, Matt?”

He was surprisingly quiet, which was kind of unusual, since he was the one who talked the most among the three of them. In fact, he hasn’t said a word since Mia broke the news to them.

“How far is it?” Javed was now looking at her, with an expression full of hope.

“I’m not entirely sure, like… 2 hours? 3 hours?”

“3 hours and 36 minutes to be exact” Matt sounded angry. But well, he finally said something. He turned around to go to his house, he couldn’t stand this situation anymore. He was pissed.

“Matt, where are you going?” she grabbed his arm, but he let go of her grip. Mia looked at him, worried. “Matt?”

“Leave me alone” he answered, running to the door.

- - - - - - - 

Luton, six years later.

It’s good to be back Mia thought, looking through the window of the car. The sky was blue with a few clouds, and the breeze was a little bit chilly. She missed this. She missed her hometown.

Her father parked the car outside the house and sighed. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re back in this hole” Susie punched his arm. “Ouch! Why was that for?”

“Don’t say that. This is your hometown!”

“That doesn’t deny the fact that this city is awful” his wife laughed. “Now, let’s get out things out of this old car” they got out of it and Oliver opened the boot.

“C’mon silly, let’s help mum and dad” her older sister Nellie said and both got out of the car as well. Mia grabbed the box that said ‘Mia’s things – FRAGILE!!’ and put it on the floor, next to the door. Their house was in the same neighbourhood they used to live in six years ago. Everything was the same, and she hoped their old neighbours were still there. Especially two of them.

“The boxes won’t get out of the car themselves” her sister playfully pushed her and laughed.

“Do you think that Javed and Matt are still living here?” Mia asked. Nellie shrugged. “I mean, Javed for sure, we know his family. But Matt?” they grabbed the last two boxes while Susie opened the door and entered.

“Oh, now that’s the real question” she wiggled her eyebrows. Mia furrowed.

“What do you mean?” she grabbed her own box and entered the house.

“Don’t act like you don’t know, don’t play with me” Nellie was carrying her own big box, full of books. “You know exactly what I mean. Mia and Matt sitting in the tree k-i-s-s-i-n-g!” she started to sing and Mia rolled her eyes.

“I was fucking 8 years old!” her mother yelled ‘watch your language’ from the kitchen. “Sorry! I was 8 years old Nellie, my crush on him is part of the past”

“Aha, then why did you blush when I started singing?” Mia rolled her eyes again. She was in love with Matt since they were 8, but never told him. Why though? She was sure he would never return the feelings.

“Girls, your rooms are upstairs. Do you think you’d need help to carry the boxes there?” asked their dad. He was panting from all the heavy boxes he carried from the car to the house.

“Nope, I think we’re good” Mia said, offering his dad her water bottle. Nellie and Mia took their stuff and went upstairs.

“Anyways, are you sure you don’t feel anything for Matt?”

Mia sighed. “I told you, no.”

“What a shame, you two would make a beautiful and annoying couple” Mia gave her a ‘I will kill you’ look and Nellie laughed. “Do you want help to unpack?” sometimes, Nellie can truly be a pain in the ass sometimes, but she’s always willing to help her little sister.

“I’m good Nellie, thank you” she gave her a thumb up and closed her bedroom door. As she started to unpack her things, she began to think. What would Matt and Javed be doing now? Are they still friends? Are they still living in the neighbourhood? Is Matt still obsessed with the idea of being a musician? Is Javed still pursuing his dreams of being a writer?

 - - - - - - - 

After helping her parents unpack and taking a long and relaxing bath, Mia run downstairs and met with her mother, who was baking some cookies. She grabbed a chocolate bar from the cupboard and her denim jacket, decorated with pins and patches of her favourite bands.

“You’re going outside, my love?” asked her mother while putting some frosting on top of the cookies.

“I was about to. Do you need help?” the cookies looked and smelled delicious, like everything her mum baked.

“No sweetie, thank you. Enjoy the walk” Mia smiled and kissed her mum on the cheek. She waved goodbye to his father, who was reading the newspaper and went outside. She expected to see Mr Evans or Mrs Hudson with her triplets, who would be all grown up now.

The little square in the neighbourhood was still the same, the purple swing she loved when little was still there. Some kids were running, others playing and laughing while their parents watched. Memories of her, Matt and Javed playing there came to her mind. She remembered one specific summer day, when there was a big storm coming and they were forbidden to go outside. Still, they managed to sneak out of their houses and went to the park.

Just before the storm started, they were found by their angry and worried parents, who grounded them for almost two weeks. The punishment was not seeing each other for those weeks, and it was a torture for them. They were truly inseparable.

Mia was finishing her chocolate bar when she saw a young man with his Walkman park his bicycle outside his house. She recognized him instantly. There he is she thought. She went after him. “Hey stranger” the teenage got his headphones off and turned around. He frowned and smirked.

“Mia?” he slowly approached her and when she nodded, he embraced her. “I missed you so much! What are you doing here?”

“Well we moved back here” she looked at him. He was now a tall young man, but with a worried expression on his face. She immediately thought about his family’s struggles with job and money.

“Did your dad lose his job?”

“No, no he didn’t, he was transferred back here” she put her hands in her pocket and smiled at him. Such a long time without seeing him.

“That’s so cool! Seriously, we missed you. Look at you, you’re all grown up!”

“You too J! You look like a college student already” they laughed. “How’s your family?”

He shrugged. “It’s getting hard for us to make ends meet, but we’re fine”.

They sat on the curb and talked about what they did in those six years of not seeing each other, about their families, and how Liverpool seemed cooler than Luton.

“I assure you J, it’s a nice city but only because the Beatles were born there” she laughed. They loved the Beatles when they were children, they used to sing Let It Be on rainy days. Mia smiled at the memory and turned to Javed. “J, you and Matt are still friends, right?”

“We are, but I don’t see him much often. He dropped school last year”

“He did what?!” that was strange. Matt was eccentric like his father, but this was another lever of eccentricity.

“He wants to focus on his career as a musician, so he dropped school and now he has a band”

“That’s cool, but how did his father agree to his decision?”

“You know how he is; it didn’t take a lot to convince him. Like father like son” he rolled his eyes and she giggled. “Are you… uhm… still in love with…”

“Nope. It was just a teenage crush, and I haven’t seen him in years”

“Ow. You two would make a lovely couple” he pouted as she punched his arm playfully. A car was being parked in front of Javed’s house, music was playing loud from the speakers. “Oh, look”. A young boy with a mullet and black jacket got out of it, waved goodbye to his friends and made his way to the door of his house as the car drove away. “Matt!” Javed stood up and waved his hand. Mia got on her feet, standing a little nervous next to her friend.

Matt turned and smiled. “’Ello J!” he run to him and gave him a hug. Then he turned to the girl next to Javed, checking her out. “Mind to introduce me to this lovely lady, Javed?” Mia gulped. She didn’t know why she was so nervous.

“You don’t need that; you know her already” Matt frowned. “Oh man, you don’t remember Mia?”

Matt’s eyes were wide open. “What?!” his expression of surprise changed quickly into a happy one. “Mia! Come ‘ere love” he immediately wrapped his arms around her. She returned the hug, shocked.

Oh.

Maybe her feelings for him hasn’t changed. Not one bit.

[vaguely-problematic]

the whole 12 minutes is gold but especially this part:

for too long those of us with opportunity and privilege have failed and our responsibility to look at the truth squarely and name the system of racial oppression that artificially divides Americans and benefits those already in positions of relative power.

It’s perfectly understandable to not want to do this. It’s human. No one wants to lose privileges or position. Especially when fear of that loss is magnified and stoked by political leaders for their own supposed Advantage. I say supposed Advantage because if you deny the human rights and dignity of any people you will ultimately destroy the society and civilization that you claim to protect.

58 years ago John Kennedy said those who make peaceful Revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable.

Not only is addressing systemic racial and economic Injustice The right thing to do. It is the safest most conservative most self-protecting most self-serving thing to do.  contents Under Pressure will eventually explode and that’s not a threat that’s a law of nature. So it’s time to ask ourselves as it is always time to ask ourselves. What kind of nation do we want to live in?

that answer requires moral leadership.

Take it upon yourself to be a leader and set an example of the kind of country You want to live in.

that might mean going down to a protest or making a donation or having a tense conversation about race,

but you’re not going to get that from the White House. So we need to step up and provide it ourselves. America is now officially byop:  be your own president.

(Full speech-to-text transcription under cut)

i’m Stephen Colbert, well, we’re back after 10 days off and I never imagined that after 10 days a global pandemic would not be the lead story.

Remember when we were all afraid of our groceries. I miss those days.

No the story that has pushed 100,000 covid deaths below the fold is America’s pre-existing condition- racism.  protests against police targeting black people have broken out in dozens of cities.

So April was global pandemic May is massive Nationwide protests over systemic racism. I assume June is a plague of locusts then in July pleated pants are coming back.

That’s not just US citizens protesting racism in the United States. protesters gathered in London Toronto. Even Berlin, you know, it’s bad when Germany thinks your country is racist that’s like Jamaica telling you to put down the bong.

These protests were sparked last Monday by the extrajudicial execution of a man named George Floyd face down in a Street in Minneapolis Floyd died after a police officer knelt on his neck for nearly nine minutes now in civilized countries that’s called Murder.  Minneapolis police officer and cop who so dirty even his badge is crooked Derek Chauvin even adding to the outrage is that it took four days to arrest the officer even though there’s  video of him doing it.

It would be the shortest episode of Law & Order ever in the criminal justice system. The people are represented by two separate but equally important groups the police who investigate crime and the district attorneys who prosecute the offenders who in this case are the police because come on we all saw the video. What are you waiting for? That’s it. I’m going to the protest. do the "dun dun”.

Even after Chauvin was arrested. He was charged with third-degree murder. That’s a pretty light charge. That’s like Prosecuting Jeffrey Dahmer for a bad case of the munchies. We find the defendant, hangry.

Plus the other three officers involved have not been charged with the crime. So if you’re wondering why people are so upset. It’s because this is so upsetting. Also, it’s not an isolated incident on the very same day that Floyd was killed. There was another viral video of a white woman named Amy Cooper who is confronted by a black bird watcher who asked her to put her dog on a leash in Central Park, and he responded by doing this and I’ve hidden please. Please call the cops. Please call the cops. African American man threatening my life. She knows exactly what she’s doing and why that man should be afraid of the police a brilliant performance. She should win the white lady Oscar.  also known as the Oscar.

now Floyd’s death comes on the heels of Breonna Taylor and Ahmaud Arberyurry and also has Eerie similarities to Eric Garner in 2014. And in that same year, there was the case of Michael Brown in Ferguson Tamir rice and Cleveland all of those Echo Emmett Till and the Scottsboro boys, which happened in the context of Jim Crow, which itself was a soft relaunch of slavery. See really got to go back to the Triangle Trade which ultimately stems from man. Man’s inhumanity to man and are essential Fallen nature. So maybe start with the Garden of Eden actually, you know what in the beginning there was a single point of all matter and energy under tremendous pressure. But you know, there’s always a few bad atoms and the whole thing exploded

now in times like these we need empathetic and moral leadership. Unfortunately. We have Donald Trump. normally during National unrest president step up and address the nation’s pain.

Following the death of Michael Brown President Obama met with activists in the White House President Clinton comfort of the nation with a moving address after the Oklahoma City bombing. Even Richard Nixon in 1970 made a surprise trip, or he spoke to students protesting the Vietnam War who can forget his stirring words. We’ve got to come together and defeat are common. Enemy. The Jews I wrote down on this rushed

Trump can’t even match the compassion of a Nixon because as the Protests raged on Pfizer’s discuss the prospect of an oval office address in an attempt to ease tensions, but the idea was quickly scrapped for lack of policy proposals and the president’s own seeming disinterest in delivering a message of unity. Okay? Mr. President. We’re thinking a short powerful speech from the Resolute desk where you call for racial healing. I’m sorry. What’s that sir? You want to act it out with a box of Aunt Jemima. You know what? Let’s just scrap the whole thing. Today Trump had a call with the nation’s Governors to discuss the ongoing protests and he read straight from the authoritarian Playbook. Why isn’t comforting words. It reminds me of what? Mr. Rogers said about times of tragedy. Look for the dominators. Oh won’t you be? Oh you will be my neighbor you jerk.

That was mr. Rogers dominating someone.

Then Trump said something really scary, you know and you’ll never see this stuff again. So people are upset about systemic racism and a society that over polices and imprisons black people and Trump solution is to do more of that. You know, what they say those who refuse to learn from history are Donald Trump. So Donald Trump is the big tough guy going to dominate the opposition pew pew pew so naturally on Friday as

Range nearby Trump took shelter in the White House bunker. Well if history has taught us anything is that things always work out well for strong men who Retreat to underground bunkers. Mr. President. Come on. This is your moment. You’re always calling to beat up protesters at your rallies. You could shut this whole thing down just pop a couple of hydroxy xand come out of the White House swinging a 5-iron with a Confederate flag tape do it. But instead he tweeted great job last night at the White House by the US Secret Service. Service, they were not only totally professional but a very cool. I was inside watched every move and couldn’t have felt more safe adding a nobody came close to breaching the fence. If they had they would dad dad. Dad. Dad dot-dot-dot have been greeted with the most officious dogs and most ominous weapons I’ve ever seen that’s when people would have been really badly hurt at least many Secret.

Agents just waiting for Action. We put the young ones on the front line sir. They love it. I don’t know why they’re not letting him give that reassuring speech from the Oval Office my fellow Americans. Let me send a clear message to the people protesting police brutality law enforcement is just a bunch of cool guys who cannot wait for things to get crazy. They see you as target practice now a truly enjoy watching you get eaten by vicious. Dogs now, let’s all come together in peace. Come buy guns my Lord come buy guns.

The protest of the White House were specifically in response to this tweet. These thugs are dishonoring the memory of George Floyd and I won’t let that happen. Just spoke to Governor. Tim was and told him the military is with him all the way any difficulty and we will assume control, but when the Looting starts the shooting starts, thank you. Kind of an unnerving way to end a threat. It’s like that scene in Taken. I will look for you. I will find you and I will kill you. Thank you. Stay safe. Everyone top also had some more succinct thoughts tweeting. So terrible where the arrests and long-term jail sentences. We tried to sir, but Susan Collins voted to acquit you.

Now while Trump is in hiding it’s really good to see average citizen stepping up and filling in the void yesterday in Queens police knelt with protesters while in Flint Michigan the sheriff joined the march in Brooklyn protesters protected to Target from looters and Kentucky this group of white women formed a line to protect black protesters from police in Louisville protesters formed a human barrier to protect a cop who got separated from his unit and in Minneapolis.

Group of Mennonites showed up to support the protest Tonight’s Mennonites think America’s too racist! and they live in 1840.

Now I make a lot of jokes about Donald Trump because he is a dull and dark corrupting force that is undermining America’s moral leadership around the world and sewing hatred and fear among his own citizens. So that’s fun. and during this covid crisis the president is totally abdicated his responsibility of leading the people to understand the need to do the right thing for themselves and each other and yet the large majority of Americans have done the right thing anyway,

My Hope Is that the American people will do the same thing now Because ultimately they have to for too long those of us with opportunity and privilege have failed and our responsibility to look at the truth squarely and name the system of racial oppression that artificially divides Americans and benefits those already in positions of relative power. It’s perfectly understandable to not want to do this. It’s human. No one wants to lose privileges or position. Especially when fear of that loss is magnified and stoked by political leaders for their own supposed Advantage. I say supposed Advantage because if you deny the human rights and dignity of any people you will ultimately destroy the society and civilization that you claim to protect.

58 years ago John Kennedy said those who make peaceful Revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable. Not only is addressing systemic racial and economic Injustice. The right thing to do. It is the safest most conservative most self-protecting most self-serving thing to do. contents under Pressure will eventually explode and that’s not a threat that’s a law of nature. So it’s time to ask ourselves as it is always time to ask ourselves. What kind of nation do we want to live in that answer requires moral leadership?

Take it upon yourself to be a leader and set an example of the kind of country you want to live in.  that might mean going down to a protest or making a donation or having a tense conversation about race,

but you’re not going to get that from the White House. So we need to step up and provide it ourselves. America is now officially byop:  be your own president.

[agustdomain]

Taste Of His Universe

Synopsis: What’s it like to finally understand what goes on in the mind of a boy who reminds you of a galaxy?

Word count: 12.6 k

Genre: A lil bit of angst. Post-road trip. Lot of inner thoughts. 

Warnings: Minor language, implications of family abuse, negative outlook on self.

Member: Donghyuck, ft. OC, Renjun & Yuqi, other dreamies, and introduction of Jisung and Yuri! New faces haha

To Read Take Me To Outer Space, click here.

Author’s Note: This special work is an unofficial sequel. Tmtos is its own standalone work, and can be perceived as such. This work isn’t necessary and doesn’t offer a different ending, per se. It’s just an opportunity to understand the complexity of Donghyuck a little more. This is a special thank you to all those who have followed me this past year! Back when I wrote this last year, I didn’t imagine the amount of love I would get for it. Like I say so often, Take Me To Outer Space is incredibly important to me. I’m grateful so many of you love it as well. Without further ado, please enjoy getting a taste of Donghyuck’s mind. -Angelo

For as long as he could remember, there were questions rushing through Donghyuck’s mind. Sometimes they came in flashes, usually about what he had to do or that had his attention at the time. Other times, it was more serious and long term. The particularly heavy questions plagued him at night, sure, but other times they would leave his head reeling at the most inconvenient moments. He was a curious guy, always questioning and wondering about the world around him. People usually were the biggest source of his curiosity . He never let it show, found it a little bit childlike to always have wonder eager on his tongue. 

The burning question of the hour was, Why am I here?

“Seriously. That is the question,” He muttered aloud, unaware of anything but his thoughts. Here he was, the sun beating down on his back and making sweat build at his nape. The longer he stood in front of the quaint, barely noticeable shop, he tried to ignore the droplets racing down his back. 

Shuffling on his feet, he squinted down the street on his right, then did the same on his left. Searching for an answer, maybe? Perhaps he was stalling. One thing was for sure, he truly didn’t like that he always did things on a whim. 

And that’s why he was standing outside this flower shop, wondering just what his bright idea was and why he originally thought it was genius.

Yeah, it may have been a good idea last night when he was lying awake in his bed back home. All of his things packed, waiting and ready for his departure. Come morning, he was getting on a plane and flying back to reality, back to school and to all of his friends. Back to burning questions with no answers and hesitation. 

Life wasn’t particularly easy on the boy who knew how to overthink.

“Hey, kid. You just gonna stand there or what?” Donghyuck snapped out of his distracted thoughts, feeling his mouth twist in embarrassment. A worker, maybe in his late twenties, was in the middle of putting some flowers on display in front of the shop. 

“Sorry,” Donghyuck uttered, walking past him and into the propped open door. 

It was definitely a smaller establishment, kind of what he imagined a flower shop to look like. The aroma was overwhelming and everywhere he looked there was a burst of color. Rubbing away the sweat at his temple, Donghyuck felt a frown settled on his face as a headache began to rise.

He knew next to nothing about flowers.

“Why. Am. I. Here?” He said, beginning on his journey by wandering around aimlessly. There wasn’t really anywhere to wander, but he tried to make himself look like he was searching for something specific. In all honesty, the only thing he was looking for was his reason. 

The sound of the shop door swinging closed- the bell attached to it was obnoxiously loud- grabbed his attention. The worker from earlier trudged in, large box in his arms. The embarrassment from earlier tried to push its way up and onto his cheeks but Donghyuck turned away from the sight.

To distract himself, he read the little display card in front of him over and over. Peonies.

Hm. So that’s what they look like. 

“Looking for anything in particular?”

Donghyuck fidgeted in place, glancing over his shoulder at the guy who was now behind the counter. From the brief glance, he wondered if he imagined the subtle amusement hidden in the worker’s features. 

“No thanks. Just looking,” He settled on, turning forward once more. Staring down at the peonies, he found the question that was probing at him transforming into, Why am I such an idiot?

“You looking for a gift for your mom? Friend? Girlfriend?”

Donghyuck’s eyes raised to the ceiling, his eyebrow twitching in annoyance. He understood it was the guy’s job to be helpful, but it was starting to get annoying. Nonetheless, he kept his cool.

“Ah, well, it’s a bit complicated.” Donghyuck decided to keep it as concise as possible, because even he himself didn’t know how to go about handling his wild ideas.

 If he could go back in time, back to his yesterday self whose heart was aching and searching for a solution, he would tell him that flowers weren’t the answer.

“I get it,” The worker’s voice was now right behind him. Donghyuck internally sighed as he stepped up beside him. The guy couldn’t catch a clue. “It’s an apology you’re looking for.”

Instead of answering, he only gave the guy a polite smile before turning and walking away, his eyes scanning the abundance of flowers surrounding him. He couldn’t focus on the situation at hand, not when his mind wasn’t even in order and his methods were seriously flawed.

For him to think that flowers were the answer. 

Suddenly, he felt his heart grow stifled at the realization that once again, going out on a whim failed him. Flowers weren’t the answer, no, it was a stupid idea. 

Why would flowers help the complexity that was he and Y/N’s relationship?

Rubbing at his face with frustration, he checked his watch. He had only been back for a few hours, and he was already making impulsive decisions. It had been three months since he last saw you, one and a half months since you last spoke.

Boy, did he have another thing coming if he thought flowers were going to salvage the state of your connection.

“From the look on your face, it seems there’s trouble in paradise.” The worker was now leaning against a display right behind him. Donghyuck’s annoyance with himself mixed with the probing flower boy was edging him to snap. 

Once more, he feigned a smile. “I’m just looking around, man.”

The guy cocked an eyebrow. Donghyuck took a moment to study him, guessing that the worker was someone who didn’t know when to stop. Hey, who was he to talk though? He had his own overbearing personality. 

“This is my area of expertise. If you’re looking for an apology, sure, flowers can help. But if it’s an extreme offense, I can give you directions to the grocery store. Girls like when you give them their favorite snacks.”

He couldn’t help it anymore. The guy was ticking him off. “Look,” His eyes flickered down to his nametag, “Hyungwon, I don’t know if you’re bad at reading people or you simply don’t care, but I’m not in the greatest mood to be pestered. In fact, I’m still trying to figure out why I thought it was a brilliant idea to buy a girl flowers when we’re technically not even speaking. So I would like it if you just left me alone.”

Instead of being offended, Hyungwon snickered. 

Instead of snapping even further, Donghyuck walked away once more. 

“What am I even doing?” He asked himself, looking longingly at the door. The more seconds ticked by, the more he realized being here wasn’t the solution. In fact, he was better off going back to his apartment and sorting out the mess of his mind on his own. 

Flowers wouldn’t magically make things better. 

“Going back in time would,” Donghyuck sighed, before twisting on his heel and striding toward the shop door.

“Sure you don’t want to buy a bouquet?” Hyungwon, the worker, hollered. Donghyuck scoffed, the words giving him more of a boost to book it out of there. “I’m sure I’ll see you again!”

“I’m sure you will,” Donghyuck muttered sarcastically, the sound of the door bell announcing his exit.

Back to the merciless heat.

Back to confusion and wondering how to break out of his mind, his endless questions. 

Most importantly, and unfortunately, back to his thoughts about you.

It was no surprise there. Since the day he met you, you haunted him. Good or bad, it had always been like that. Distance didn’t change that, your guys’ issues didn’t change that. 

And for the better part of the summer, all of his burning questions were about you. And right now, as he made his way back to his apartment, the question at the forefront of his mind was an iceberg. Simple on the surface, a lot deeper upon further examination.

Do I still have a place in your heart?

~

“There he is. I was wondering when you’d show up. I was surprised to see all your stuff here but no sign of you.” Some of the nerves from earlier subsided at the sight of Jeno’s smile.

Donghyuck’s shoulders sagged at the release of tension, a hint of a smile on his own lips as he pushed the front door behind him shut.The two met in an embrace, a blur of excitement and adoration for each other. 

“Sorry, man, I was out… running errands.” Donghyuck settled on, taking a moment to observe the small space. The two of them had been lucky to snag an apartment near campus, though they would have to commute to and from. It was rather costly, but with some help from Jeno’s parents, both of them on the hunt for jobs and some scholarships rolled into it, they were making it work. 

“Empty handed?” Jeno inquired, his gaze flickering down to his friend’s hands. 

“Long story,” Donghyuck uttered, only now noticing he was tired. So far, the only piece of furniture in their small living room space was a two-seat sofa. He didn’t mind, though, because he was content. Content to be living with someone he valued deeply but would never say aloud. 

Throwing himself across the sofa, he sighed in relief. It felt good to rest his body and his mind. 

“I know we don’t have much to start off with, but once everything starts kicking into gear I was thinking we can add to this place. It’s small, sure, but at least we got our own rooms! And I-”

“Jeno, don’t worry about it.” Donghyuck flipped on his back to look his friend in the eye. He could tell Jeno was fretting about his reaction to the place and he regretted not being here during the summer to help look for their place. A heaviness settled in his heart. He silently vowed he’d make it up to him. With sincerity in his voice, he added, “This place is perfect.”

Watching the light enter Jeno’s face made Donghyuck so happy. He would never say it aloud. 

Instead, he merely laid his head back down and closed his eyes, finding it hard to believe that the summer had blown by and they were merely days away from their sophomore year of college.

~

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

Donghyuck peered above his laptop at Jeno.

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

Shaking his head, he could feel another headache coming on as he waited for any sign of activity on the other end of his laptop.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Dude, will you please-”

“I was thinking pizza tonight. How does that sound?” Jeno’s hand remained poised in the air, ready to throw the ball in his hand at the wall again. His question saved Donghyuck from having to hear the ceaseless sound of it hitting it over and over, at least for a moment.

“Sounds good. As long as we get sausage on it.”

Jeno made a face. “Bleh. We’ll make half of it sausage and half of it good.”

“Screw you,” Donghyuck chuckled, his eyes being pulled back down to his screen. Seeing the familiar bubbles pop up on his messaging app, he sighed with relief. The jerk was finally responding to his texts. Just as his friend responded, Jeno called out to him.

“Huh?”

“Did you hear me? I said I hope you don’t mind that Yuqi is coming over. The three of us haven’t chilled in forever. And I’ve barely seen her this summer. She spends all her time with Renjun.”

Donghyuck scoffed, typing away at his keyboard. “Is that jealousy I hear? Last time I checked, you had a thing with that girl this summer too. I’m sure you haven’t made any time for Yuqi either.”

“Yo, whose side are you on?”

“I’m indifferent.” Just then, he stood up with his laptop in order to head to his room for more privacy. “Of course I’m fine with her coming over. As if I have any choice in the matter.”

“Chances are, she’s going to chew you out for… you know.”

Donghyuck paused in his footsteps, his heart squeezing. Looking over his shoulder at Jeno, he could tell his friend was avoiding looking at him at all costs. Always feigning nonchalance. The two of them were one and the same.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“She can try all she wants. She doesn’t know the full story anyway.”

“Do any of us?” Jeno only looked at him then, making Donghyuck’s heart drop. He could see the worry barely masked, could see how his hand had paused once more from tossing the ball at the wall. His eyes were mirrors of questions, ones that echoed in Donghyuck’s own mind.

All he could do was take a page out of Jeno’s book. Feign nonchalance.

Donghyuck forced a shrug. “Who knows?” 

When he made it to his pretty desolate bedroom, he quietly closed the door. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his head dizzy with the implications of the previous conversation.

The truth of the matter was, even he didn’t know the full story. Of course his friends would want to know. After all, everyone was friends with each other. If they didn’t hear it from him, they probably heard it from Y/N.

He could only wonder if you were just as confused as he was.

No. You probably hated him. That’s the only reasonable idea that comes to mind.

The sound of the video chat ringing startled him out of his thoughts. Blowing out a breath of air, he quickly accepted and proceeded to make himself comfortable on the only thing set up in his room: his bed.

Instead of feeling happiness like he would’ve thought, or perhaps sadness from having to be departed with his friend until he flew back home, he could only muster annoyance at the guy’s face.

“What?” He asked, before adjusting his circular glasses and shifting his own device from the other side.

“Jisung, I told you to call me the moment you got back home. How is he? Did anyone see you?”

Jisung rolled his eyes. “Relax, no one saw me. You forget we did this for an entire year. And yes, Rocket’s fine. Happy to see his favorite person.”

Donghyuck remained unamused at the sight of Jisung’s grin. 

“Not in a good mood, I see. As usual,” Jisung uttered the last part before cracking open a can of soda and sipping at it. He proceeded to say, “How’s everything out there? You all unpacked?”

He faked a laugh. “Do you really think I’m that organized? I’ve only been here for less than a day.”

Jisung leaned back in his desk chair, “Eh, you never know. Sometimes people surprise you.”

“Unfortunately, I’m pretty set in my ways,” Donghyuck shook his head, his eyes scanning his bare room. He couldn’t begin to explain the conflict in his heart. He was happy to be back here, away from the chaos of his home life. Yet, a part of him still ached for having to leave some things behind. There were only a few pieces of happiness back in his hometown. 

Jisung and his dog, Rocket, pretty much summed it all up. 

He had gotten Rocket back in his freshman year of high school. The puppy was what got him through a lot of tough nights, whether it be school or personal life issues. And he had gotten his name from yet another aspect of his life that he cherished deeply. Rocket was the name of the first song he had ever listened to by MAD, his favorite band. 

Blinking at the sound of Jisung’s voice, he tuned in on his friend’s low voice.

“You know, I just wish Rocket could stay with me whenever you’re gone. It would make things a whole lot easier.”

“Yeah, I do too. But you know how it is,” That’s all he said, because if anyone knew how his life was, it was Jisung. In fact, he was probably the only person in the whole world who understood him fully. It was such a shame he wasn’t with him.

“Well, one more year. One more year and I’m outta here just like you. And if you don’t take Rocket with you, he’s coming with me.”

“In your dreams.” Donghyuck genuinely laughed and it felt good. It felt good to be completely comfortable, unafraid of someone judging him. It was hard, because he did have good friends here at school. He had Jeno and Yuqi. And he had… you. But no one else knew him like Jisung did. “Thank you, Jisung. I… I don’t know what I would do without you.”

If Jisung recognized the double meaning, he didn’t address it. Clicking his tongue and waving a hand dismissively, he said, “No worries. You know Rocket secretly loves me more. I’ll always have his back… and yours too.”

Donghyuck looked away, maybe to collect himself or to think of what to say. He settled with, “Again, in your dreams.”

“Hey, Hyuck! Yuqi’s here!” 

“Sounds like you got to get back,” Jisung was slightly grinning, as if he had a secret he would never tell. Donghyuck knew that it meant trust, that he was considered a close confidant. 

“We’ll talk soon.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

And as Donghyuck made his way back to the living room, his heart was lighter than a feather.

~

It’s funny how things kind of fall into place. Life has an odd way of throwing a person a line, to either grab onto for help or to simply ignore. 

Right now was one of the moments.

Here Donghyuck was, lying wide awake in his bed. Around him was a small and bare bedroom, more comforting than the one back home was and that held most of his childhood. There was mostly silence in the apartment, quiet chatter a distance away coming from Jeno’s room. He had a small lamp plugged in beside the bed and Donghyuck stared blankly at the yellow blanket covering the ceiling. 

It was too early to be going to sleep.

That’s what Donghyuck initially blamed his restlessness on, when really it was because of you. 

Oh, Y/N. If you could actually look into his mind and see how much he thought about you, you would know he was in love. 

If he actually opened his mouth and told you what’s inside of him, maybe you would understand. 

That’s the problem, isn’t it? Donghyuck can never quite push himself to open up. It’s why it took so long for him to kiss you in the back of that car all those months ago, for him to even show a snippet of his feelings for you at the MAD concert. 

Rubbing at his face roughly, he reached for his phone. With bated breath, he clicked open the contacts list and scrolled to your name.

Y/N. With a golden heart. 

Emojis couldn’t even begin to convey how he felt. How could they, when he himself couldn’t communicate properly?

His thumb did a little dance above your name before he allowed the screen to go dark. Putting it back where it was on the side table, the frustration bubbled within him. He aggressively ripped the blankets off of himself before sitting on the edge of the bed. Holding his head in his hands, his heart beat fast as his thoughts picked up speed.

“Why am I like this?” He choked out, his mind racing and his heart frazzled.

The truth was, he was always afraid of what he felt for you. For as long as he was self-conscious, he knew how much of a wreck he was. He was frustrating, he knew that about himself. He also knew that he was blunt and sometimes didn’t know when to stop. It’s why you didn’t like him for so long, why he couldn’t help but be unbearable. 

He never intended to annoy you all those times, he was only nervous.

How couldn’t he be nervous when you were the most perfect person he had ever been graced with in his entire life?

Donghyuck had noticed you long before you had noticed him, way at the beginning of the first semester. As luck would have it, he had found out that the two of you had connections, mostly through Renjun and Jeno. You had piqued his interest through your guys’ shared Philosophy class. The class bored him to death, never really grabbed his attention. Not until you spoke. 

You spoke so eloquently, quiet but confident. He remembered how pleased the professor looked whenever you spoke out on your thoughts. On those days, he used to think to himself, Join the club. I’m impressed just like you. 

He didn’t see you everyday, but he tried to look presentable on the days you shared that class. Those moments, when he would look over and you would either be dozing off or intensely focused, his mind would go quiet. 

And Donghyuck couldn’t remember the last time someone or something made his mind go radio silent. 

It was a complete accident starting on your bad side. In reality, he was really trying to impress you the day you first took notice of him. You had just spoken out about your view on something, something that Donghyuck couldn’t even remember anymore. All he could recall is how he didn’t necessarily agree with your points, and had some counterarguments that could make an interesting discussion. 

For the first time in that class, he raised his hand. 

He had meant for his voice to come out reserved and confident, just like yours. Instead, it came out bold and cocky. His demeanor shifted, protecting him from all of the judgmental eyes and portraying him as this laid back and know-it-all guy. 

His heart had cracked that day when you had looked at him with exasperation. Dejected at first, he didn’t even want to show his face in that class anymore. He needed a few pep talks from Jeno, who he had let in on his crush, and even Jisung who he had called the moment he got back to his dorm that day, for him to show up again.

From then on, he couldn’t help himself. He took on this persona that was solely for you. It was stupid, he knows it now, but it was the only way you would remember him. Figuring out you would like him for himself took a long time, but as luck would have it there were always little beacons that showed him the way. 

Like MAD, for instance. 

Another night that stuck out in his memory was the karaoke night when he pissed you off. It wasn’t often that he went out with his friends, but when they did get him to come out he genuinely did have a good time. He had known for a long time how much Jeno and Yuqi loved MAD, because it was one of the things they brought up when they were all getting to know each other. 

Just like Jisung and Rocket, MAD played a huge part in helping him through hard times. They were his safe haven, a way to leave the world and immerse himself in a band that knew just what to say. There was no judgment, no questions or anger. There was no broken families or overwhelming school experiences when he pulled on his headphones and listened to Jisoo, the voice that rocked his mind to sleep. Sometimes, he’d listen for Davey’s drums, use it to slow his heartbeat. For him, MAD did the opposite of its name- it made him sane. 

And you, well, you were the human form of MAD. 

When you gave him the chance to know your heart, well, it simply felt like he had the universe in his hands.

You were his universe.

And he was too afraid that he was your black hole.

A gentle knock at his bedroom door snapped him out of his contemplations, quickly rubbing his forearm across his eyes. Taking only a moment to collect himself, he croaked out, “Yeah?”

Jeno cracked the door open before pushing it all the way. Leaning on the doorframe, his eyes washed over Donghyuck.

“You okay?”

No. But it was hard to even utter one word. He nodded instead.

Donghyuck could tell Jeno wanted to push him, but maybe the warning look on his face was enough to deter him. 

“Well, I’m here to talk if you want,” Jeno walked into the room, stretching his arms. He was quick to change the subject. But it was a subject Donghyuck didn’t really like. Turning to look him dead in the eye, Jeno said, “I have an idea. And you’re probably not going to like it.”

~

Jeno was right. He didn’t like it. 

As he trailed behind Jeno and a girl he had only recently been introduced to, he was dreading ever being talked into this bright idea.

“Do you think we need more than one flashlight?”

“Yeah. Yuqi said her and Ren have one already. I don’t know if the others have one. Just in case, we can get two.”

Donghyuck sighed heavily, making his lack of enthusiasm as apparent as possible. The burning question of the hour was, Why do I always get myself into these situations?

“I shouldn’t go.” He said aloud, probably for the fifteenth time since Jeno first told him about it. It seemed like Jeno had no intentions of letting him off the hook.

Without stopping the shopping cart, he gave Donghyuck a glance and replied, “Too bad. You already said yes and it’s going to be an amazing trip. So don’t ruin it.”

“He could always change his mind,” Yuri, the most recent face that had been hanging around, put out there. 

Donghyuck only frowned hearing Jeno’s cryptic reply to her. “No, I have a feeling he’s not going to change his mind.”

The truth was, his mouth had agreed before he could work through the turmoil. It was a couple days after Jeno told him his idea, how everyone should go camping before school starts back up. That meant this upcoming weekend, considering classes start next week. And by everyone, he meant an extended group that just so happened to include you. 

He didn’t have to ask if you were going to be there. The answer had been in Jeno’s shifting eyes. And he was practically sick with nerves at the prospect. 

The truth was, he was never one for camping in general. The ground was rock solid, most of the time it was super cold at night. No one likes bugs and he was definitely not an exception. He tried to look at the bright side but the closer they got to the weekend the more he dreaded it.

Besides all of the negatives, it was going to be the first time he saw you in months. The last time he saw you, it was right before he left for the summer. And things were fine between you, then. 

It had been almost a year since the concert. Ten months, to be exact. Ten months since the night he had revealed to you a snippet of what he feels for you, and you did the same. And that night, well, had been a symbol for hope. He could vividly remember how your perfume still lingered with him that night when he went to sleep.

The months after that wasn’t really what he had envisioned. Likely, it wasn’t what you wanted either. It’s not so easy stepping out of one’s comfort zone, and Donghyuck being expressive was definitely in the outfield.

You were patient with him. You guys took things slow. Some days, it was especially hard and Donghyuck knew it. He could be so distant and he didn’t like that about himself, but he tried to explain to you that it was just who he was. He was moody and brooding, he had a lot about him that was locked away. That could all be seen on the surface.

He just wished he could break into himself, put on display just how much you meant to him. Something told him deep down you knew. You saw it in the way he came running when you were overwhelmed with your schoolwork. You could sense it when he refused to hang up even when his voice was hoarse and slowing down with fatigue. 

His love was subtle in person, but loud in his mind. The sad part was, his brain was a locked box.

The summer had only severed the growth he had made. Going back home was like resetting and reverting back to the version of himself that liked to retreat. He could only blame himself for the distance and he could only hope there was a way to make it up to you. 

“Apparently, I thought flowers might’ve worked,” Donghyuck hummed as he spotted flowers on display at the front of the grocery store. Shaking his head, he continued following behind the pair on a mission. 

“You’re a lot more… stormy than I pictured,” Yuri directed back at him. He only gave her an icy stare in return. 

“Don’t take it personal. He’s like that most of the time,” Jeno said loudly, not at all subtle.

“I don’t mind. It brings a bit of spice to the atmosphere.”

Donghyuck glared at the back of her head, wondering who decided she was apart of the friend group out of nowhere. Why didn’t he get a say? Who cares if Jeno had a thing with her during the summer, does that give her a pass? If every girl Jeno had a thing with was in their friend group, they’d have a whole football team.

He shook his head at himself once again, recognizing his unfairness. There was some truth to his thoughts though. He was only gone for a summer and suddenly there was a new face. Guess he didn’t really have a choice if everyone else liked her. 

“Okay. I think that’s it,” Jeno maneuvered the cart out of the aisle and toward one of the checkout lines. “That was a success!”

“We only needed to get a few things,” Yuri pointed out.

Jeno’s face twisted. “Yeah, okay, but it was still successful! This weekend is going to be a blast.”

“For sure.”

Donghyuck knew he was being a buzzkill but he couldn’t help it. Was he supposed to magically be cool with seeing you after months of not being in your presence, after over a month of not talking to you? Even though you didn’t voice you were angry at him, maybe you were. Maybe you finally hated him for being so closed off. 

There was no way to prepare for the moment he would see you.

Even when you guys were cool, he never knew how to calm down his heart.

Maybe the flowers were a good idea after all, because it would allow him control over when he would talk to you after being back. If he went camping, then the interaction laid all in the trip.

He hummed in amusement, the MAD road trip flashing in his mind. 

How familiar. 

“Shit! We forgot to get an extra bag of marshmallows! I’ll go get them,” Yuri said before twisting on her heel and booking it. 

Both boys watched her departure before Donghyuck said, “It’s like having another Yuqi around. Except I like Yuqi.”

Jeno slugged him in the arm. “Lay off, man. You’re not even giving her a chance. She’s 

actually pretty great.”

“Why aren’t you guys dating then?”

Jeno, always casual, “We’re better off as friends. It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

“It’s that easy,” Donghyuck’s tone was dripping with sarcasm. His words held some truth,  because when he first met you he instantly knew he’d never see you as a friend. It’s not possible. 

Looking down at his boots, he tried to focus his thoughts. If they kept on trailing back to you, he might just chicken out of going this weekend. No, Jeno was right on that. There was no way he wouldn’t go. If it meant you, his heart would always win over his fear.

“Hey Hyuck,” Jeno took the moment they had alone. By his tone, Donghyuck knew he 

was going to get serious. He made sure his face remained indifferent. “I know what’s going on. I mean, I know it’s Y/N. We all go through heartbreaks-”

Donghyuck stepped back a bit, shaking his head and shutting him down. “Don’t assume shit when you don’t know.” He could see that he had struck a nerve in Jeno, but he knew more than anyone how entitled Jeno could act. To everyone else, he was this social butterfly who knew no harm. To the people who knew him a little better, like Yuqi and himself, he wasn’t as angelic as perceived. 

Out of everyone he had ever met, Jeno was one of those who had a problem caring 

about how he made others feel. 

Donghyuck didn’t judge him for it. They were close, after all, and he had flaws himself. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t call him out on his shit. 

“Look, I’m not trying to assume. But from how you’ve been acting and what Y/N’s said...”

That didn’t sit well with Donghyuck at all. He went into defensive mode almost instantaneously. “What do you mean, what Y/N has said? Since when do you talk to her like that?”

Jeno shrugged, pushing the cart ahead. This was the shit that ticked Donghyuck off. And it drove him crazy that these particular qualities only came out when hardly no one was around. “We talked a little more these past couple of weeks. She seems pretty torn up.”

Donghyuck gritted his teeth, his fists clenching without his control. Why did Jeno sound so… entitled? Why was he acting like he knew you?

Something flashed in his mind then, catching him off guard.

It was a memory from the MAD trip. It was when he regretted how he acted with you, how harsh he had been and had called you a loser. It was something he always regretted. What he was thinking about led up to that. 

Unbeknownst to you, he had overheard you and Renjun talking in the burger place on the road about how you liked Jeno. It had wrenched his insides, tearing him up in a way he had never felt before. Sure, he had felt other forms of devastation. There was nothing quite like finding out you had a thing for his friend, the friend that everyone seemed to love. 

Of course, it had been cleared up right away. 

That memory popped into his head right now as he looked Jeno’s nonchalance in the face and it boiled his blood.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I suggest you cut it out because you’re really starting to-”

“I got them!” Yuri’s arrival snapped them out of their tense conversation. Her eyes widened at the sight of Donghyuck’s blatant irritation. Jeno grabbed the bag out of her hand and put on a smile.

“Took long enough.”

Yuri shuffled past him, and Donghyuck could feel her eyes on him. He just needed a moment, his eyes fluttering closed as he tried to calm down his breathing. 

He was acting crazy. 

Jeno hadn’t said anything wrong. Sure, he was pushing his buttons a little bit but he wasn’t implying anything. Donghyuck was simply on edge from everything, especially anything regarding you.

To you, he seemed like a confident guy, once a pest but now someone who you adored.

To himself, well, he was a mess. Inside, he was a flurry of questions, feelings and worries.

How could he even begin to describe that to you?

And if he did, would you turn him away?

When they reached the car, he silently helped put all of their belongings in the trunk. And before Jeno could open the driver door, Donghyuck pulled him back by his shirt.

“Sorry about that back there. I’m just… on edge. I,” Donghyuck paused and sighed, “I really miss her.”

Jeno’s face softened, bringing his hand up to rest on his shoulder. “She misses you too, man. Just talk to her this weekend. I think you’re just too in your head about it.”

The world blew past him through the car window, similar to his racing thoughts. As he laid his head back, he seized onto one question that kept playing in his mind. Why do I ruin everything?

~

It was the night before the trip, and it was getting harder for Donghyuck to get a rein on his emotions. He was drowning, and he was drowning fast. How could he mentally prepare himself to face you, when it had been so long since you last spoke?

His body fell back on his bed, his eyes tracing the edges of the golden light blanketing the ceiling. It was a facade, the appearance of this room. Everyday, he added a little something. It wasn’t complete, not until he would start working and be able to afford more. But the lamplight.

The stupid lamp that painted the room in gold. It was a fraud,

The only gold in his life was you. 

And it had been so long since you guys last spoke, you may have forgotten about him.

Tugging at his hair, he grimaced with distress. Since he came back, he tried so hard to avoid thinking about the last time you spoke, but it was haunting now. Trying to fight it, he paced his room and looked for anything to distract him. It was late, and Jeno was already asleep. 

He tried playing one of his playlists. It was a big mistake. After a few songs, Galaxy Eyes played through his computer speakers. His heart sunk. He moved to his computer, his fingers hovering over the skip button. Frozen in time, the piano tunes wrapping around his heart and his throat. Your eyes popped into his mind, shining and smiling just for him. Moving his finger over a few buttons down, he turned up the volume. 

Allowing his body to fall back on his bed, he stared back at that dreaded golden light. It wasn’t his focus anymore, not when your song was floating all around him. His eyes fluttered closed and just this once… he allowed in the memory.

///

It was one of those days. 

It wasn’t one based on sheer luck, like smudging one’s clean shoes or breaking one’s headphones. 

It was one of those days one tries to avoid so badly but it’s inevitable. No matter what he did or what he said, it couldn’t be avoided. Because it’s not he who causes this kind of day. 

Slamming his bedroom door, he could hear the scream from downstairs but he ignored it, tuning it out. His chest was heaving and his eyes were flooded, but he ignored it all. Making a beeline to the corner of his room, he snatched his backpack and shoved in some articles of clothing. 

He was angry at himself for crying, despised it when he did. He continued to fill his bag to the brim, swiping his arm across his eyes before he made his way to his bedroom door once more.

Pausing for a moment, his eyes stared at the wood through his hazy vision. Inhaling, exhaling, he braced himself. Taking a moment to think, he turned and went to the end table beside his bed. Rummaging through the drawer, he found his headphones and felt a sense of relief flooding his veins. 

Plugging them in, one of MAD’s older albums began playing in his ears, washing over him like a bath. 

Without any hesitation, he strode out of his room. Trying to focus on the lyrics, he could still hear the screaming over it. As he dashed down the stairs, he blasted the music as loud as it could go and walked past the living room without looking. 

He could hear the yelling directed at him for a moment but he ignored it. 

He couldn’t be in this place, not tonight. 

He made it to the backyard, closing the door behind him. Rocket rushed to him happily, unaware. Donghyuck kneeled down, managing a laugh when Rocket licked at his already damp cheeks. 

“Let’s go, Rock. We’re going to go to Jisung’s.” He didn’t waste any second clipping his leash on before heading out the side gate. 

The farther he walked, the lighter his chest felt. 

It was still too hot for it to be late evening. Donghyuck hoped his face looked damp with sweat instead. Looking down at Rocket, who hadn’t stopped wagging his tail, made his heart settle. 

On his way to Jisung’s, he called him to let him know he was coming. Jisung knew the drill and didn’t question him, only told him he’d get the guest room ready. After he hung up, that’s all he had intended to do. Call only Jisung. But his eyes found your name in his recent calls list, and he found himself clicking on it. 

The sad thing was, this shit always happened. 

He knew this was what he was coming back to, for the summer. Donghyuck simply had ridiculous hope that it wouldn’t be.

It didn’t take long, not at all, for things to go to shit. 

Being back here was draining, and the longer he was back the more he couldn’t remember how much better life was back at school. Back with you.

“Hyuck! I was just thinking about you!”

Donghyuck remained silent, his gaze hard and focused on the distance. The tears were relentless, and it made him angry that he was so affected. Still, he made sure his voice was stable before talking. 

“Hey.”

Even though he was good at hiding his tears, you sensed something was wrong. “What’s wrong?”

Donghyuck paused in his trek, stood frozen in the middle of the sidewalk. Rocket circled him, nuzzling his other limp hand. He closed his eyes, his heart twisting in his chest.

“I…” With one word, his voice broke so he made sure it was stable once more before continuing, “I need some time.”

“Some time? What do you mean?”

Ah, how your voice was the sound of his favorite song. It worked wonders, was his tether to a different life. But the tether was stretched taut, far into the future until he reunited with you. It was hard to see that, when he was surrounded by darkness.

“I have… things. I don’t want you to be apart of it. So I think,” He swallowed, so heavily that it hurt, “I just think it’ll be better if I disconnect for a while.”

There was silence on your end for what felt like hours. Donghyuck’s heart was racing so fast, it was running its own marathon. He had a headache, and he ignored that it was because he was holding back his tears as much as he could. His temple was throbbing with pain and his vision, blurry. The grip he had on his phone hurt, but he needed to hold on for you. 

You didn’t deserve this.

What could he do, though? He needed to prevent you, his universe, from meeting him, a black hole. 

“Hyuck....”

Clearing his throat, he said, “I can’t say, Y/N. I just… it’s better off if I’m away for a while.”

He didn’t know what to expect. Maybe yelling, or crying. Maybe for you to cuss him out. 

“Okay.”

Donghyuck squeezed his eyes closed. He was deathly silent for a moment, the world going quiet. He wanted to change his mind, or to tell you why it’s hard for him to communicate his feelings. But black holes ruin galaxies. 

“I’m sorry,” He whispered. 

When he ended the call, the world swallowed him whole and the volume was unrelenting. 

He could only kneel down, cover his head on that lonely sidewalk and hope it quieted on its own.

///

His eyes fluttered open, his heart aching. 

It had been months and he could still clearly hear your voice in his ear. 

You must’ve hated him now. 

Slowly, he moved his phone up to his face and checked the time. It was late, but not too late. It meant Jisung would still be awake. 

Plugging his headphones into his computer, he turned off his music and called Jisung. 

It took a few rings, but Jisung picked up. Donghyuck’s face softened at the sight of his friend, seeing his own reflection in his glasses.

“If you’re calling to nag me about Rocket. Don’t worry, dude. I dropped by to check on him earlier.”

“I wasn’t, but thank you.”

“No problem. I’m his best friend. Gotta look out for each other,” Donghyuck heard a meow from his end and Jisung looked off to the side. He bent down, and when he straightened out his cat was wrapped in his arms, “Aw, Daisy, you know I was just kidding. You’re my best friend.”

Donghyuck couldn’t control the smile on his lips, shaking his head. “I was just calling to check up on you.”

Jisung pressed a kiss into Daisy’s head before depositing her back off camera. Pushing his glasses back up his nose, he said, “Same old B.S. I’m not meant for high school. If success was based on maturity, I would be a billionaire by now.”

 “There’s high school billionaires, you know.”

Jisung stared off in thought before shrugging. “The world’s not ready for me yet.”

“You have a reply for everything, don’t you?”

“It’s apart of my charm.”

“In your dreams.”

Jisung remained unbothered, as he always was. It was a trait Donghyuck highly admired about him. The world needs more people like Jisung. 

“So, what’s on your mind?”

Donghyuck looked up at him, as if caught in the act. “What-”

“Come on, Hyuck. I know you very well. You only call to check up on me when you need to ask for my advice.”

Donghyuck had the decency to look bashful. “Sorry.”

Jisung blinked. “Don’t apologize. It’s apart of my responsibility. As your best friend, I have to read you well. Otherwise what am I here for?”

“To claim your Rocket’s best friend and fail high school chemistry.”

Jisung pointed at him. “Hey. I don’t judge you for your bad grades, don’t judge me for mine.”

Donghyuck raised his hands in peace. “Fair enough.”

His friend cracked a smile before reverting back to his usual serious nature. Well, that’s only how Jisung appeared. He had his own humor, his own way of portraying his happiness. Perhaps that’s how Donghyuck showed he was his best friend. After all, no one ever understood when he was joking like he did. Donghyuck knew him down to the quirk of his lips.

Taking a deep breath, he tried sorting his thoughts out before fully submerging.

“I, uh, I’m going camping with the group tomorrow. And by group, it includes Yuqi’s boyfriend, Renjun. Jaemin, Dahyun, and…” He blew a breath out of his lips. His eyes trailed up to Jisung, who patiently waited. A smile flickered on his mouth at the sight of Daisy climbing on him, stretching her body onto his shoulder.

“And Y/N?”

Donghyuck nodded. “And forgive me, but I’m freaking out.”

Jisung tilted his head, looking lost in thought. “Break it down for me.”

Once more, Donghyuck nodded as he breathed in to relax. This was their process, and it helped him more than he could express with words. If anyone knew that, though, Jisung did.

And so he did. It felt like the longer he talked, the more of the weight on his chest dissipated. He didn’t hold back, telling Jisung his concerns. He told him how afraid he was, how maybe you don’t even want to see him. He had been radio silent for so long, offering no explanation. 

You didn’t deserve that, and frankly, you didn’t deserve what he was giving you. How much time had passed, what, ten months? Since then, you guys hadn’t even truly broke down the meaning of the relationship. But you had never complained, always been happy whenever you were with him.

Regardless of that, he felt like he wasn’t giving you what he deserved. And it made him even more nervous to face you, because he didn’t feel good enough.

Jisung stayed quiet for a while after he finished, looking as if he were processing what was said. Donghyuck waited, feeling an immense amount of relief. He didn’t feel as frantic anymore, or as afraid. Jisung would tell him what he needed to hear. 

He couldn’t say it aloud, but regardless of his age, Jisung was indeed one of the wisest people he’d ever known. He was a gem and he was blessed to be his best friend. 

Jisung subconsciously cuddled Daisy close to him, scratching beneath her chin. The sight made Donghyuck’s heart ache, missing Rocket. 

Soon, Jisung nodded his head as if he finally collected his thoughts. Adjusting his glasses once more, he dove in with a steady voice. 

“Your feelings are valid. I understand why you would be afraid of facing her. You’ve gone a long time without talking to her, and it’s true that you don’t know how she’s viewing the situation. But you’re being way too hard on yourself. First of all, you didn’t go M.I.A for no reason. You had your own issues to deal with and you chose to take a step back from everything. You don’t owe anyone that.

“Yes, perhaps you could have given her more of an explanation. But you were in no way being malicious. Don’t ever forget that. You did what was best for you. If Y/N is the person you describe, she’ll understand that. Don’t give up before you’ve even tried. All you have to do is talk to her. And you don’t even have to tell her everything, just enough to show that you’re being sincere. Even then, I’ll think she’ll see it.”

Like magic, Jisung always knew what to say to comfort him. What he said truly helped him, walked him out into the light. He always knew what to say to get him to snap out of it. 

Sometimes, a person just needs someone to grab their hand to remind them they’re not alone. 

Donghyuck whispered, “Thank you.”

Jisung hummed, looking down at Daisy as he said, “It’s what best friends are for.”

~

Donghyuck stirred awake as the car fought against a road that fought back. Blinking away the drowsiness, he yawned silently, stretching out his back. Looking to the front seats, Jeno kept his hands firmly on the wheel in order to combat the rough road. Yuri, who was asleep the last time he checked, was now fully awake and bobbing her head to the radio. 

He turned his head to scope out his surroundings. It was vastly different from the city they lived in, and they were only about two hours North. It was so green, all around and everywhere he looked. It was refreshing to be surrounded by a sight in which you’re not familiar. 

It was peaceful, what he needed. 

The green forestry was exactly what he needed to try to remain calm. 

Rolling down his window, he rested his head back on the seat. The smell was also different. It smelled of pine and Christmas. He embraced it, thrived on it. It was what he needed to distract him from the impending nerves that would threaten to take him over. 

A memory struck him then, a memory of him at another time in another backseat. One where he was not alone, but accompanied by you. One of the most memorable nights of his life.

His eyes slid closed as his brain replayed the memory reel. He remembered how his heart beat in his ears, how his body was on end. How, with bated breath, you moved closer to him. He didn’t know where he found the courage to tip your head toward him, to feel your soft lips atop his. The moment your lips caressed his, he knew he was a complete goner. He was lost at sea, never to be found for the rest of his life. 

You were his sea, his galaxy, his universe. 

He would do whatever it took to kiss you for the rest of his life, to make you smile.

And he may have done a horrible job this summer, but he vowed to learn from it. 

Because a universe deserves to be admired. In the most utmost and proper way.

“We’re here.”

One car door slam, then two. Donghyuck was barely confident enough to open his own door. He continued to sit there, taking in the unsettling silence all around him. Very different from the city. A person doesn’t realize how loud the city can be until you’re gone. 

He heard the chatter, all of the voices mixing and some who were louder, like Renjun, echoing through the forest. 

The silence helped him, surprisingly. He was afraid his nerves would get the best of him and he’d hijack Jeno’s car back to his apartment. But no. His mind was still. Sure, his heart was a little frenzied. But something in him was quieter, parallel to the woods that were watching over them.

Straining his eyes through the windshield, he could see Renjun’s car parked up ahead. Jaemin and Dahyun had already started setting up the tents, Jeno quick to join him. Renjun was talking to Yuri, and Yuqi’s holler signalled him to open the trunk. 

Then there was you. 

His heart jumped at your appearance from the front of the car. Was his heart racing or slowing down? Donghyuck didn’t really understand how long three months was to not be in your presence, not until now. His heart was shooting stars while bursting into flames. Hugging the headrest of the driver's seat, he couldn’t help but watch you for a moment.

Just like that, everything in him went completely silent. 

You were wearing something new, something he had never seen you wear before. Your eyes were shining, and he figured it was because of your surroundings. You had once told him how much you liked experiencing new things. From what Jeno had been saying earlier, both you and Yuqi had never camped before.

“Hey! Where’s Hyuck?” Yuqi called to Jeno. 

At the sound of his name, Donghyuck snapped out of his reverie. Tugging his cap as low as it could go, he stepped out of the car. Slamming the car door caused everyone’s chatter to subside. 

He wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear her, but he heard Yuri utter, “Grumpy’s awake.”

Ignoring her, he walked up to the small group that was congregating. It took everything in his power to not look at you. 

Dapping Renjun up, he pulled on the most believable smile.

“It’s been way too long, Ren. How ya holding up? Not tired of Yuqi yet?”

“Watch it,” She growled, pausing in her task of unloading the trunk.

Renjun only beamed. “I could never be tired of her.”

Donghyuck gripped his shoulder and whispered playfully, “Give it time.”

“Aye Hyuck! Come help us set this tent up,” Jaemin called Hyuck as he acknowledged him with a head nod, “Ren, you too! What do you think you’re doing, standing around and doing jack shit?”

Ren spluttered before saying, “I’m not doing nothing! I’m helping the girls-”

“It’s okay. I got it,” Dahyun offered, shooting him a sympathetic look, “Get the ice chests out.”

“Yeah, actually, Renjun couldn’t assemble anything to save his life,” Jaemin poked fun, diving into a story about how Renjun nearly killed him by assembling his bed stand poorly. 

Donghyuck stepped toward the tent before he paused in his steps. Slowly, too slowly, he turned his head. 

He met your gaze head on.

His heart jumped, but you would never be able to tell. The love he had for you encased his body, making him as light as a cloud as he looked into those stunning eyes. 

But you would never know. 

For him, he could only show you his love through actions. It was a whole other story for him to say it, and over the years he learned to accept that part about himself. But now, as he looked at how beautiful you were with the Sun beaming down on you… he just wanted to shout it out loud and let the forest carry his voice.

I love this girl.

Instead, he looked at you beneath the shadow of his cap. You probably only saw the slight tug downward on his lips. And then he was on his way, feeling your eyes on him as he headed toward the rest of the group. 

~

“Didn’t he say we’d be at the lake by now?” Yuqi heaved, stopping dead in her tracks. 

The Sun was ruthless, beating down on them from up above. It had to have been half an hour since they began their trek from their campout, trying to find the lake that was supposed to be nearby.

“Stop complaining. We’re almost there,” Jeno said, leading the pack and sounding completely unaffected.

“No, dude, she’s right. You said that like ten minutes ago,” Jaemin pointed out.

Jeno’s face screamed agitation, narrowed eyes and pursed lips. 

“Look, did I come camping with my friends or a bunch of crybabies?”

Donghyuck shook his head, muttering, “Jackass,” Before hollering, “And did we come with our friend or a camp counselor?”

For whatever reason, he sensed your laugh more than heard it. His eyes snapped to the back of your head, your back shaking with a silent laugh. He had made sure to hang back enough for your sake, always keeping an eye on you as you trekked beside Yuri and Jaemin. 

Renjun was behind him to be by Yuqi. Dahyun was the closest to Jeno.

Under different circumstances, this experience could’ve been a nice memory of the group.

It was too hot and uncomfortable to even begin to cherish it.

“You know what? Why don’t I go ahead without you guys and then come back when I find it?” Jeno said, trying to sound as nice as possible.

“No, that’s stupid,” Yuqi voiced.

Her response only made the guy frown. “Then stop whining. Before I leave your asses here.”

“Damn. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“What?” He called back, but she and Renjun giggled together like schoolgirls.

Donghyuck merely rolled his eyes. 

“You guys hear that?” You called, your voice sounding innocent and excited. It made him smile. “It’s water!”

Just like that, you took off. Yuri followed after you, and Donghyuck couldn’t help but want to be near you. So he rushed to keep up. 

You were right, of course.

Right up ahead was a secluded, beautiful lake. It was gorgeous, how the Sun acted as a spotlight atop its surface. No one hesitated to ditch their gear on the lakeside before heading straight for the water.

Jeno dove in, followed by Yuri cannonballing nearby. You dipped your toe in, yelling at the temperature. Unfortunately, you were unaware of Jaemin behind you as he jumped in, taking you with him.

Donghyuck noticed he was smiling while he watched you and fixed his face, setting his backpack down before sitting up against it.

“You’re not getting in?” Yuri asked him. 

Without looking at her, he said, “Nope.” “Me either. I’m too hungry to even swim,” Dahyun sighed, spreading out near him.

“Suit yourself,” Yuri said before taking off and running clumsily into the water. 

“Is she always like that?” Donghyuck muttered, still grouchy towards the newcomer.

“Trust me, she gets… better the longer you’re around her,” Dahyun said.

Donghyuck could only shake his head. For a while, he could only watch you. It was crazy, how impossible it was to look away from you. He watched as you and Jaemin got into a splash fight, you managing to dunk his head in the water before he grabbed you and tossed you away from him. His eyes stayed on you as you floated on your back, your eyes squeezed shut. 

It was funny. 

Here he was, surrounded by beautiful scenery. 

All he could look at was you.

“Why don’t you just go talk to her?”

No one was more surprised that Dahyun was telling him that than him. After all, she was your friend. He almost expected to be chewed out, or told to stay away from you. 

“I-uh-what?”

“You guys both seem like you miss each other. I don’t know the details, I just know she misses you a lot and looked forward to you coming back.”

“What?” He said, unable to hide his confusion. Was she talking about you? The girl he so abruptly told he was going off the grid? The girl who must’ve hated him?

Dahyun had her shades on, so he couldn’t observe her eyes. But her voice was as sincere as it could get. 

“Yup. You know this, Hyuck. She’s crazy about you. Just like you are about her.”

If possible, his heart grew as nervous as it did before, this time for an entirely different reason. This time, when he turned and watched you splash around, all smiles, one question struck his mind.

You don’t hate me?

~

As the night grew closer, the air cooled down and everyone cozied up by the fire Jeno started in the pre-made fire pit. Luckily, some of them had thought to bring lawn chairs, so there were seats for some. For the people remaining, Donghyuck included, they found a sturdy piece of tree trunk to carry toward the fire in order to sit. 

“...And the father said, ‘We don’t have a clown statue’...” Renjun whispered the last part, the light from the fire casting an eerie glow along his face. Yuqi was visibly shaken, shuffling closer to him as subtly as she could. On the other side of the fire, Donghyuck watched you as you shook your head in amusement. So both of you were on the same page. None of the scary stories got under your skin.

Your eyes flickered to him, but instead of looking away Donghyuck cracked a smile. You returned it, your eyes shy before dancing away. It nearly made his heart give out as he straightened on the log, Jeno poking at the fire before taking a seat beside you. 

He listened in when Jeno quietly said, “We need more wood.” Clicking on a flashlight, he beamed it in your face and laughed at your outburst. “Want to come with?”

Donghyuck bit back the jealousy he felt watching you and Jeno walk away together, not far by any means but feeling the familiar green sneak up on him whenever any situation involved the two of you.

“Staring at them makes it obvious, you know.”

He was surprised when he turned to find Yuri watching him. Her voice was soft and genuine. Instead of feeling his usual annoyance with her, he merely gave her a questioning look. Her gaze turned to look at where he had been previously staring.

“Trust me, I get it. But it’s better to not make it obvious.”

Suddenly, it dawned on him. Watching Yuri’s longing stare at Jeno, how she quickly redirected her attention. He wondered if he looked like that too. 

His eyes found Jeno when he returned, you in tow. The pair of you were talking excitedly, Jeno laughing through his response. For whatever reason, Donghyuck looked at him with a new set of eyes.

This was a good friend of his, yes. But there were sides of him he had yet to know and recognize, sides to him that he couldn’t possibly understand. Maybe Jeno didn’t know how Yuri felt about him. But maybe he did, and just didn’t care.

It wasn’t his place to figure out.

And so, as the night continued on, Donghyuck did what he always did. He simply let himself blend in with the background and observe what was going on. It seemed like Dahyun and Yuri were close, the two of them huddled close before calling it a night and heading to one of the tents. 

Yuqi and Renjun were off in their own little world, before Jeno trudged over and started up a conversation. Jaemin was nodding off in the seat next to you, so you shook his arm gently and whispered something to him, which made him stand and head to the second tent, the one he, Donghyuck and Jeno would be sharing. 

And even though the two of you weren’t the only ones awake, the atmosphere shifted.

Suddenly, it was you, Donghyuck, and the woods.

He didn’t hide it anymore, his eyes on you. His attention peered over the fire, the warmth emanating just enough to keep him warm. He didn’t know if it was intentional, but his hoodie was hanging off of your body, his favorite red hoodie he had given you a few months back.

It rested on you like a blanket, making you look soft and adorable. Your eyes were trained on the bonfire, your hands held up and outstretched to warm them up. You looked at peace, no signs of distress or unhappiness sketched in your features.

It made him happy to see you happy.

Kind of nice, how only a look at you silenced his mind. 

Just then, you looked straight at him, likely aware he had been looking the entire time. It made his heart jump, waiting for your reaction. You offered him a line, showcasing that sweet smile of yours.

It made him dizzy. 

With Dahyun’s encouragement from earlier ringing in his ears, he stood to his feet. To try and calm down his nerves, he listened to the crunch of leaves beneath his boots. Brushing off his jacket, he pulled his hood on and tried to keep his hands busy. Anything to keep his cool.

He reached you too soon, not enough time to figure out what to say. 

It was like you knew that, though, looking up at him with what he could only perceive as happiness. 

“Hey,” You said softly, offering him the sweetest smile he had ever seen. It hurt his heart in the most beautiful way. And he knew it would haunt him for the rest of his life. It was a haunting he would welcome with open arms. 

The bonfire glow had nothing on you. It was the spotlight on the main act. You were the sky he admired every single night. 

He didn’t realize he was holding his breath, shuffling his feet before grabbing the chair Jaemin had previously been sitting in and pulling it slightly closer. He kept some distance, though, still not quite sure what you were feeling.

“Hey,” He said, sounding a little too breathless. He avoided looking at you, bending over to rest his elbows on his thighs. Looking away, his thoughts began screaming again, questions blurring all together. Trying to get a hold on anything, he stared at the bonfire, chaotic but controlled. That’s what he’d like to be.

Chaotic but controlled.

“You dyed it back.”

“Huh?” The fire of his brain sizzled out at the sound of your voice.

“Your hair,” You reached over and picked up a strand of his hair, oh so gently. Your touch stilled his heart, because it was so timid he could barely feel it. It was more your closeness he could feel. He was soaking in it. “You were so bent on keeping it orange.”

Donghyuck grimaced, failing to notice you pulling your chair closer as he rubbed at his face. “Yeah, well, I thought it was time to go natural again.”

He side-eyed you, his heart picking up at the sight of you holding your chin in your hand. You were ethereal, angelic. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to that. 

“It’s okay. I like it. You’re handsome either way.”

His mouth opened slightly at your words. It had been months since the two of you entertained these feelings between the two of you. Yet, he could never get used to your praise.

Swallowing thickly, his eyes danced back to yours. You looked a little smug at his reaction, and he would never tell you how seductive you looked. 

Did you know the effect you had on him?

Probably not. 

“Truth is, I kept it orange all that time for you.”

This time, it was you who were surprised. “What? Why?”

“You once told me I stole hearts when my hair was that color. So I kept dyeing it.” Believe it or not, it was kind of hard for him to even tell you that. But he did. Because you deserve way more than he gave you the last time you spoke. For whatever reason, you weren’t telling him to piss off. 

You poked his cheek, feeling his cheek grow warm at the contact. “You told me it was because it reminded you of MAD.”

“That was a cover up,” A laugh escaped his lips, “Well, it’s because of MAD a little bit.”

“I’ll take that.” The two of you stayed quiet for a while, observing the woods around you. It was pretty much pitch black past the campsite, but Donghyuck welcomed it. There was something serene about where they were at now, not eerie anymore like he originally thought. He had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with you.

The feeling of your hand on his forearm spread across the expanse of his body. 

You didn’t know that. Whenever you touched him, he felt it from head to toe. 

To you, you likely only saw a collected facial expression as he stared at you. What would you do if you knew how insane you made him feel?

“I’m so happy you’re back. I missed you.”

“You did?”

“Of course I did,” It was your turn to look away, but he was hanging onto your words. Subconsciously, he moved closer to you, his face nearly inches away from yours. Your voice wavered, the worry in it making his heart ache. “I was worried about you. But you’re strong.”

Is he strong? Is that how you saw him?

For a moment, he was suspended in midair. What he did next, he knew he needed to do. If you threw a line, it was his turn. You deserved so much from him and he wanted to give it to you.

So, he rested his hand above yours. Your eyes widened, looking back at him. He tried to keep his face open, his icy fingers wrapping around your warm ones. “I’m sorry. For worrying you, and for taking so long. But… I’m back. I’m not going anywhere and…” He shook his head, frustrated with himself. Just say something, explain to her.

The burning question of the hour: Why am I such an asshole?

Before he fully submerged in his head, he jerked at the sensation of your hand cupping his cheek. Opening his eyes- he hadn’t realized they’d closed- he was staring into your eyes. A galaxy looked back at him. 

“Hyuck, I understand. I admit, it was confusing and it was hard to not reach out. But I wanted to respect your wishes. We all have our issues, and you wanted to spend some time away. I don’t hold that against you. You’re here and you don’t have to worry about me. Are you okay?”

He hoped the bonfire didn’t give away his glossy eyes. “I am now.”

You beamed like his own personal lighthouse. Intertwining your fingers, you raised his hand to your mouth and pressed a gentle kiss on the back of it. He could only be amazed by you. 

Here he was, concocting all these ideas about how you were going to react poorly, how you were probably done with him and his tendency to be difficult. He didn’t even consider the possibility that you would be understanding.

How foolish of him, considering you were compassionate since the day you gave him a chance. 

Donghyuck couldn’t control his own happiness on his mouth, flipping your hand to give you his own kiss. 

For the most part, his mind was quiet. 

There was one question in its depths.

How did I get so lucky?

~

It was a beautiful day, one that would echo in the crevices of their minds long after their departure. Nothing but the Earth surrounded them, forestry and sounds of distant birds chattering among themselves. That, and a group of joyous friends splashing around were the only sounds that could be heard. 

Among those friends were Renjun and Yuqi, a passionate couple that found they complemented each other’s fierce personalities. A boy who hardly gave his heart away, but when he did it was well-earned.

There were Jaemin and Dahyun, in the middle of a splash fight. Loyal friends, who may not always be near but would always linger in a friend’s heart. Whether it be late night karaoke or on days like this one. 

Yuri was a new addition to the group, loud and proud. Her vibrant voice overtook much of the day’s activities, and her tendency to attract attention was unintentional. Given a chance, she grows on you. She could even make Donghyuck laugh when she cannon-balled near him, completely soaking him.

There was Jeno, a lone wolf, who pretended he was fine when he was alone. Maybe, if he tested himself, he could survive. Why would he want to, though, when he had incredible companions by his side? Upon first glance, he’s a boy that makes you question ever laying your eyes on beauty. He’s an innocent crush, a last stab at unblemished youth. When given the chance, he’ll become a good friend.

Donghyuck and Y/N. 

In a solitary and intimate wood, they found their way back to each other. Truth be told, they never really left. Y/N, headstrong and sentimental, could only wrap her arms around the boy’s neck as he threatened to dunk her in the water. He didn’t know that she was already fully submerged in the sea, submerged in it every time she looks in his eyes. 

Ignoring his threats of a water fight, she tugged him closer by the neck and pressed her lips on his, reminding him that she will not let go. 

That left Donghyuck, the boy whose heart raced miles a minute while his mind travelled at the speed of light. He was a cacophony of complexity, someone endless and if intrigued by the wrong person, considered frustrating. 

Not to you, of course.

When he looked at you, he could find simplicity. 

He never knew it was that easy, to find something he never really thought existed. 

Pulling you close in that lake water, staring into your galaxy eyes and soaking you in, no questions rung in his mind. 

All of them had been answered for that brief and closed off moment. 

If he had you, that’s all he needed. 

As he pressed a kiss to your nose, looking at you with all the fondness in the world, there was one statement at the forefront of his mind.

I’m lucky to have you as my universe.

[starswornoaths]

❝ the world showed no compassion to me. ❞ (insert eyes emoji here)

INSERT EYES EMOJI BACK

(also special shoutout to @holyja for bringing me to OT4 hell, I’m so glad I’m here adsfjk;rsilghsigjl)

Serella’s disappearance from the very star itself had been such a sudden thing, an unexpected thing that even hours after Tataru had given the news, it had left those closest to her reeling. As Tataru told it, Serella had had notified Hyana that she made for the Syrcus Trench in search of clues for what ailed the slumbering Scions, then in the span of moments after she had begun that search in earnest, she had disappeared in a flash of light.

“She said a voice called to her. It was hard to hear her as she was fading, though…” Tataru had said in a voice warbling with tears. After a long moment, she had handed Hyana a stack of sealed envelopes, tied together with a purple ribbon. “She left these in her room. I think...I don’t know what she wanted to do with them, but they’re all addressed to you.”

Even in the time it had taken her to drift from the Rising Stones to the Firmament, to home, Hyana still didn’t know what to make of the stack of letters that weighed as a stone in her hands.

That Vardr and Danuja didn’t immediately pounce on her the moment she got home meant someone else was here, too, occupying them— and when she wandered up to the bedroom and saw Aymeric and Estinien sat on their oversized bed with letters of their own, she knew why.

“Tataru sent them to all of us, then.” Estinien mused, turning his own unopened, untouched stack in his hands, his thumb smoothing over the red ribbon holding them together.

Aymeric said nothing, his fingers faintly trembling as he plucked at the blue ribbon binding his. Hyana joined them on the bed in silence, setting her letters down on the duvet as though they were made of glass. Vardr, sat in Aymeric’s lap, nosed at his hand as if to encourage him. Danuja, sat at Estinien’s side, sprawled to put her head in Hyana’s lap in an attempt to comfort them both.

“D’you suppose Serella was ever going to send them to us?” Hyana asked, breaking the weighty silence that hung in the canopied bed.

“Not while she is Acting Antecedent.” Aymeric replied quietly.

“Too tied up in politics to let herself feel anything.” Estinien snorted. “Sounds familiar.”

That got a flinch out of Aymeric, though silence reigned again. For how close the three of them were, even without Serella, it felt like none of them knew what to say to one another anymore. That tension wound them all taut, the air tense and still. Vardr and Danuja were not enough to soothe them, and the additions of Riley, Rhalgr, and Menphina were no better, though not for lack of trying on the part of their remaining dog and cats. 

With the bed filled to near capacity (for there was still one important occupant absent,) and no one truly knowing what to say, they all agreed to wordlessly read the letters given to them— possibly compare to see if she had simply copied her words over and over to them.

A silly thought— each letter was different, though the longing in them remained consistent. Though much of the contents remained private between them, ere long there were water logged phrases shared with exasperated warmth. “She must know we miss her greatly.” “Thinks we’re carrying on fine without her. Hmph.” “Doesn’t she know she can still turn to us?” It took little to get them all to thaw, just a little, just enough to smile in tired fondness.

She had that effect on them, even so far away.

“Wait—” Estinien paused when he reached the last letter in his pile, a thicker envelope than the others by far. “This...is not only addressed to me.”

“Hm?” Aymeric, only just setting his last letter aside, newly read with red rimmed eyes, leaned over to see what Estinien was talking about. “Tataru did not sort these ahead of time— Ella did. Meaning—”

“She must have hoped I’d come home to you both.” Estinien said for him with a disbelieving chuckle. “Can’t stop worrying over the lot of us to save her own life, can she?”

When Hyana peered curiously in kind and saw that it was addressed to all three of them, she felt something in her chest twist unpleasantly. Just the act of looking at the envelope felt like beholding a goodbye.

Even as she didn’t want it, she took the envelope from him and opened it without preamble. When Estinien made a noise of complaint, she held up a hand, “I’ll read it out loud.”

They watched her expectantly as she unfolded the letter, took a deep breath, and began to read.

“My Dearest Ones,

I don’t even know if you’ll ever see this. Maybe I just like to talk to you all. Maybe I just need to pretend I still can. I’m not sure of much of anything anymore, save for that someone— I can only presume it’s the same someone who has taken the Scions— has bid me seek answers in Syrcus Tower.

I’m assuming it’s a trap. It usually is. It probably is. But I’m going anyway. We have no other leads, and I have no other hope of coming home again. Because that’s what I’ve been laboring for: to come home to you all. It’s all I’ve wanted— even speaking in the day to day with you, Violet, or coordinating supplies and movements with you, Aymeric, I have mourned not being able to come home to you in any sense of the word. Estinien, I hope you came to be with them, to remind yourself you aren’t alone, but even if you’re reading this without their company, know that it’s been hard not to reach out to you at all, and that I hope you’re as well as you can be.”

Estinien sniffed, but Hyana didn’t tear her gaze from the letters scrawled on the pages in front of her.

“Every day I’ve had to remind myself that what I’m doing is only temporary. That it’s the right thing to do— if I can, I must, right? But I just...write to you all in what time I have left to myself. When I can’t sleep. When I don’t know what to do. And then...then I stuff it in a desk drawer and tell myself it’s selfish to send something like that when I still can’t be with you all. It would be unfair. How could I ask you all to support me when duty demands I keep you at arm’s length?

“Easily.” Aymeric whispered.

“I don’t know what I’ll find at the end of all of this. I don’t know what price I’ll have to pay to see the Scions restored, but I’ll pay it. For us, it’s worth it. I can’t promise many things, not the least of which is whether I’ll be the same person at the end of all of this. I can only promise that I’ll still be yours, for as long as you want me to be, and that I’ll bring us all home. I would be a fool to break that promise. The world was never kind to me, not until it led me to all of you. And I’ll fight my way back any way I can, to come home, to keep that kindness for myself. One way or another.

So lets all hold our heads high, as we always have, my darlings, and see this through, yeah? Have the kettle on for me, I’ll be home as soon as I can.

Your shield as sver,

Ella”

Hyana lost track of when her voice grew warbled with tears, but she felt them stick to her throat when she swallowed thickly. Her knuckles ached for how tightly they gripped the letter, even as she had taken care not to tear it. She would not cry over this. She hadn’t for months now, what did words scribbled on pages change any of that?

“God dammit.” Estinien snarled under his breath. When Hyana looked up at him, he had turned his head to hide from them both, the heel of his hand pressing firmly against his eye. “God dammit.”

When Aymeric sniffed, she looked to him. With a hand pressed tightly over his mouth and tears falling from full, sticky lashes he seemed to be the only one who had it in him anymore to cry. She wondered if he had taken all of their tears for himself in Serella’s place.

Hyana was not one for idle sorrow, not when productive rage was a more attractive option. The tears she swallowed couldn’t douse the fire in her chest, the sparks of indignation struck against her ribs, the smoke filling her lungs. How dare Serella just decide to do this alone— again —and all for those held dear to her as though they were only dear to her! As if she was not an occupant in their lives, their hearts! The unmitigated gall of her!

She had shrugged Danuja off her lap and stood before she had fully realized she had done so. The anger ran hot in her veins but she hadn’t felt so alive in months, not since home hadn’t felt the same. It was something, rather than the dreary emptiness that had weighed her down.

“Hyana?” Estinien looked up, pinned by Danuja fully now. 

Unceremoniously, she tossed the letter down and gathered the letters that had been addressed to her specifically. Hastily tying them back together with that purple ribbon (violet, the nerve of her,) and tucking the lot of them in with her gear, she made to hastily pack her bag.

“Violet?” Aymeric called softly.

“She went to Syrcus Trench.” Hyana’s words all rushed to get out, hands scrambling to throw what clothes and supplies she might need into her pack. “Then she disappeared, but I have a starting point— and I think I know who took her.”

“What—” Estinien managed to stand first, burdened with fewer pets weighing him down. “Hyana, I don’t—”

But she’d already finished what packing was needed— or at least, what she could think of amidst swirling thoughts and pounding pulse. Standing upright and swinging her pack upon her back she was already making for the door before either of them could even approach her.

“I’m going where she went. I’m going to track her down— and no, I don’t care where she went, I will find her— and I’m going to beat her stupid fucking face in.”

She’d propped her lance against the wall when she came in, but snatched it up and turned toward them, fully prepared for them to look scared, or upset, for them to try and talk her down from leaving. She hadn’t prepared for them to both look at her with slow, faint grins spreading on their faces. 

“Ordinarily, I’d advise against hitting her face.” Estinien’s grin widened. “But she’s been a stubborn ass. Slug her once for me, would you? I’d follow you, but Tataru reached out to me for more than just the letters.” With a roll of his shoulders, he explained, “I’m being contracted to fill in where you lot need aid the most. So at least take comfort there will at least be one dragoon out in force.”

“We all have our part to play.” Aymeric agreed with a nod. “I return to the front tonight.”

Where the room had been near stifled with the oppressive weight of sorrow there was an almost electric buzzing of motivation— of energy where there had been none. Moved to action, enthusiastic action, for the first time in weeks had them almost intoxicated with vigor, and they stepped out into the night, into their roles, with every intention of seeing the dawn together, all four of them.

They had that effect on one another like that.

[tfrangers]

A Glitch of Kings

Optimus has a slight problem, one he would like taken care of discreetly. Trepan understands, of course, he specializes in taking care of problems discreetly! At least, he can try.

Guess what everyone I also occasionally write pointless babble. Special thanks to @mnemoiisms​ whose love of Trepan is so infectious that every time I have a conversation with them I think up a million Trepan plots for any number of AUs or fics.

Contains: Optimus, Trepan, mnemosurgery, some mental health stuff, medical stuff, Trepan considering the opportunity to play with this poor lil thing, weirdness, and nightmares

----------

"I have a glitch."

Optimus stated it the way a mechlet with a hand in a sweets jar admitted guilt. It was almost endearing, Trepan had to admit- for one so willing to offer help at a moment's notice, Optimus treated seeking help like a shame, speaking to a vulnerability Trepan felt certain few were privy to. Or maybe it was just adorable, to watch him squirm in discomfort.

The entertainment value certainly couldn't be denied.

"I see." Trepan's voice was carefully modulated to put a potential patient at ease, and he hid a smug grin under a comforting, concerned smile as he pulled out the glasses and began to pour the bubbly, carbon-infused energon Optimus had bought. Bribery had it's benefits. "Is this a new development, or-?"

"Reoccurring." Optimus stated a bit too fast. "It's been a while, and I can typically…" trailing off, faceplates hot.

"... You've managed it on your own before, I surmise. So why come to me, then?" Trepan handed him the glass and watched as the ranger fiddled with it instead of drinking. "What has changed?"

Optimus stared at the energon's purplish hue. "...I can't recharge. It was never this bad, before."

"Mm, I rather thought you looked exhausted."

"When I try, it's just...false memory purges, nightmares, coming out of recharge v-violently." There was a catch to his voice, not a lie, but Trepan was keen on knowing when an omission was made. "They have me waking up every few minutes, it feels like. Or worse, I try to wake and I- I can't. When I was an apprentice, my caretaker would help, and it faded, but…” Optimus gestured vaguely, and the tail draped like a scarf around his shoulders coiled tighter by a hair. “...I’m tired. I’m tired, and I’m snapping at my team and losing track of my duties. I can’t afford this glitch, not now.”

Trepan schooled his expression. Polite smile. Graceful touch to the shoulder. Reassuring gaze and grip. "Well...I’m hardly capable of extensive work on my own -" a bold faced lie, but a useful one. "-but nightmares can be easily dismissed with even a surface connection. If you just desire some rest, I can temporarily disable your memory purges- your processor would begin them again within’ a decacycle or so.” He flexed a hand delicately at the wrist, and when the needles emerged with a soft hiss of metal Optimus flinched and his auditory fins swept down like a distressed animal’s ears. Aw. Adorable.

“And then?”

“You can come back, and I can repeat the process. If you’re willing to take that risk.” He spotted the confusion in the ranger’s eyes, and sipped his drink, letting the carbon-infused liquid rest on his glossa, feeling the bubbles in it pop, pleasantly tingly. Letting Optimus wait. “Without memory purges, the processor begins to degrade. It may take a while to notice, but extensive denial of purges could have certain effects. Mood swings, memory loss or corruption, it would be no better than denying rest as a whole.”

Optimus stared down at his still-untouched drink, looking despairing for all the world. It struck Trepan that the expression was ill-suited on his youthful face.

“Of course,” Trepan continued, “there are more extensive treatments I can attempt. Therapy. Memory training. Positive reinforcement codes to at least allow you to recharge naturally, regardless of dreams and purges. Most glitches have an underlying source that can be identified and localized, even corrected completely, given some effort.” Now that got the ranger’s attention.

“....Could you? No, would you?”

“This is not a service that would have come cheap, Optimus. You would have to allow me into your mind, repeatedly.” He tapped the long needles on the table, drumming against the metal surface with a distinctive ring. Delicate as they looked, they were stronger than nearly any other portion of his body, and when he dragged them along the surface it screeched, pitched and sharp. The vibrations merely made his hand tingle. Optimus cringed like he was pained. “I could promise client confidentiality to a point, but there is always a risk with these things. It almost certainly would be unpleasant, revealing...have you even had any softwork done before, beyond updates?”

“No.” Optimus admitted.

Trepan looked at the bottle. One of several the ranger had bought to him- sometimes in exchange for information, or simply out of politeness. He had it on good authority that the mecha bought a gift to everyone he visited, Trepan simply knew he had more specific tastes than most. “I will treat you, whichever way you desire.” Trepan sighed. “You will simply have to owe me.”

“I have shanix-”

“There’s a war going on, and we are all trapped on a planet with no communications, no shipments going in or out, and no use for shanix. I’ll just find some task for you. Maybe you can round up your team and repair my home the next time a storm crashes through, or some ‘con decides he doesn’t like me living so close to their territory.” Waving a hand as if to dismiss the worry of payment. “It would only be fair, since any sort of operation not only jeopardizes you...but myself, as well. Especially with no trained team to assist.” He put a hand on Optimus’ shoulder again- this time, the one with the needles, and watched as Optimus went so still he held his breath. “Nightmares can be contagious in my line of work, you understand.”

Optimus nodded very slowly, very carefully, all too aware of thin needles against his thick fur. He didn’t exhale until Trepan released his shoulder and moved away, turning to hide his smug grin.

“Think about it. Mnemosurgery is not something you should go into lightly.”

“I...I will.” Optimus couldn’t say polite goodbyes and gather himself up to leave fast enough, after that. Nervousness practically bled off of him, like he’d been doused in it. Good, Trepan figured. Nervous people made silly choices, and silly choices made people desperate for relief. It wasn’t that he wanted to risk his own security by compromising the ranger, but...he was a curious one.

And Trepan was growing rapidly bored of probing the brains of criminals and warriors. Someone curious would do.

----------

Optimus, as it was, could not stand more than one more sleepless night. So it was that Trepan cleaned up the operating room he’d set aside, and found Optimus leaning back on the slab. Stiff and still and clearly already raw nerves even with none exposed, yet. “You’re allowed to breath, Optimus. All procedures have their risks, but I assure you, I’ve done this many times before. You will be safe.”

“Mm.” Optimus barely nodded, staring up at where sunlight filtered in through the mirrored window directly above.

“And if anything does go wrong, I have your medic’s frequency.”

It made Optimus flinch, which was a little funny. He really did look exhausted, optics dim and unfocused and the glossiness of his plating and fur dulled some. He would perk right back with some proper, uninterrupted recharge of course. He would thank Trepan properly, then.

“Now, I’m going to begin.” Trepan took his place at the head of the slab, looking down at Optimus upside-down from each other’s viewpoint, offering his sweetest smile, antennae flicking out wide behind him. “You will be conscious and aware for the duration of the operation, though you may experience the memory purges firsthand. I will be paralyzing your greater motor functions, to ensure you don’t hurt yourself, or hurt me, by trying to move while I am injecting.” He’d gone over this three times already, but given how numbly Optimus had followed his instructions it never truly hurt to repeat one’s self. “Once I inject, it will be several minutes before I can maintain a connection, but I will inform you before I begin. If you want me to stop at any point, just say so. Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Optimus tried not to look at Trepan, instead focusing back on the light. Perfectly natural to be nervous. Mnemosurgery got such a terrible reputation, these days- Trepan remembered when bots were happy, eager to come to his slab, have their perceptions tweaked or have bad days obliterated entirely, have addictions cleared up in an hour or fears washed away without a trace. He rather missed that.

“You will feel the initial injection- it will hurt, but only for a nanoklik.” Trepan reassured, smoothing down the fur of Optimus’ shoulder with one hand as the other drifted, needles out, to the side of his helm. “I am going to inject directly behind your audial. Take in a deep vent-” Optimus obeyed. And his eyes went wide as it escaped him in the start of a yell that barely wound up a gasp. It had hurt. Like a hot knife jabbed into his helm, searing and driving and then before he could really process it or react...it was just gone. Like he hadn’t even felt any pain, not even a ghost of it remaining.

Instead, just the deeply disorienting sensation of feeling something inside his helm.

“There we are...do you feel any pain or discomfort?” Trepan asked, and it took Optimus a second to find his voice again, feeling quiet.

“No.” He swallowed hard. “That was fast.”

“Mm, yes, it’s a handy tool to use. I wouldn’t wish my patients to suffer needlessly.” Trepan sounded distracted, and Optimus though absently that the instant evaporation of pain was different from when the medics treated him, different from when Red Alert connected for pain relief coding, or from the slow build of numbness from an injection or patch. Trepan answered the question he didn’t ask, and Optimus was suddenly aware of the presence not just in his skull, but in his mind. “You are still feeling pain, actually. A medic’s pain management eliminates the sensation, or helps to deaden the sensors themselves- I’m simply ensuring your processor registers it as nonthreatening.”

“Oh.” Optimus’ mouth felt dry.

“So, useful in a different way. My capacity to manipulate the sensation would not, say, prevent your frame from going into shock from an overload of pain, as true numbing would. But it has it’s own benefits...for one, you can still feel me.” Something about the single needle in his helm adjusted and Optimus felt the room spin with a sudden rush of dizziness before it passed. “I know, it’s very disorienting. But it lets me know if I’ve hit anything vital, or run into unexpected physical barriers. After all, the sensations are still there, they are just being...interpreted differently.”

Optimus wondered for a moment on what interpreted differently really meant, and Trepan chuckled. “Your sensory network registers everything as frequencies, as data and energy. To someone who knows how to read those frequencies, there is very little difference between pain-” A brief, dull ache bloomed in the back of his head, before vanishing. A false-feeling. “-and everything else.” Everything else was warmth, pleasure, a bloom of heat that seeped down Optimus’ spinal column and coiled in his chest, then vanished. Optimus was rapidly realizing exactly why mnemosurgery was rare. And feared.

“Don’t forget expensive. Very few mechanisms have the capacity to become mnemosurgeons.” Trepan expanded. Something about his presence in Optimus’ mind reassured him that he was honestly not offended in the slightest. Amused, yes, but not offended. “Our processors have a natural mutation, not unlike those found in empaths. The capacity to understand another mechanism’s processor, to process that information faster than they can. I was very fortunate- I tested positive for such a beneficial mutation only weeks before I would have been assigned to a mining colony.”

Optimus could scarcely imagine Trepan as anything other than what he was, now. The concept of him mining out some other dirtworld like this one here, or pulling apart asteroids in a distant field of stars…

“Hardly suiting, isn’t it? I would not have lasted.” Trepan laughed. “You are doing very well...your firewalls have accepted my presence. I am ready to begin.” Optimus’ eyes flicked up to him, before going back to the light. He hadn’t bothered to turn off his capacity for vocalization, yet still he was just...too nervous to speak aloud. Understandable, given that five inches of metal had been jammed into the joint of his helm, behind his audial, and was currently resting neatly against his processor. Good thing Optimus could simply think, and it was. “You’re going to be dizzy, or even nauseous, but I won’t let you purge your tanks. It’d be a pain to clean up.”

Even scared and vulnerable, Optimus smiled weakly and amusement crept through him. He rather liked this mental image Optimus had of him- pretty and delicate and refined but oh-so-dangerous, risky. Constantly fluctuating between trust and wariness. Something deeper, a memory, a lesson learned. Something to investigate later, Trepan filed that away in his own memory banks.

True enough, Optimus’ optics fluttered shut, and his world twisted and turned and he could hear Trepan’s voice still, and knew that his body was limp and motionless, but he also felt himself stirring, moving, turning over- he was in Trepan’s suite, no, he was in his own berthroom, on the soft too-large mattress and in the cool, dark air of night, and he was trying to fall asleep.

Oh. This was the memory of several nights ago.

“It is.” Trepan’s voice was heard and not-heard. It was a little unsettling. “Yes, well, this is why those seeking more intensive treatments may prefer to be unconscious.”

It was a little nauseating. Like being spun in circles or a grounder’s first time in microgravity.

“Now, lets see these pesky nightmares, shall we?” Things adjusted. It grew darker. Optimus tried to retreat in his own motionless mind. “Optimus…there is no shame in having a glitch. Particularly one so benign as false memory purges, or terrors. And even if there were, I am not here to judge, only to assist you.” Trepan’s voice was like a warm, syrupy sensation more than sound anymore. Like hot oil applications. “This is just a memory of a dream. I will be right here if you need things to stop.” Reassuring.

A touch of tenderness and Optimus opened his mind willingly. It was downright delightful. Trepan could have been deep within’ his soul in a moment if he’d wanted, could have broken through and busted down every barrier in the way with but a thought, but why do that when it was so much more pleasant to have someone open the door and hold it for you? Optimus was so wary but wanted to trust so badly...it would have broken Trepan’s spark if he were a sentimental mechanism.

Which he wasn’t. So instead it amused him.

Memory Purges and Dreams were always difficult to sort through, even if you knew what you were doing, even with ages of skills and talents behind him. They were disorganized, messy, scraps of data that needed to be cleaned up or that spawned their own self-perpetuating loops. Glitches were common, even if they often were self-repaired in a matter of a day or two- so the ones that lasted were always at the very least interesting, and often times particularly nasty or invasive.

But Trepan had peered inside of so many minds, inside of rebels and anarchists, picked through the thoughts of common murderers and high-class lords with ‘eclectic’ tastes alike and found little different and little shocking between them. He eased into the files of dreams, ready for corrupted memories or old traumas turned into dataloops, fantasies or fears.

Instead.

Things stopped making sense for a few frantic seconds, and it was a few seconds too long. Trepan was, terrifyingly to himself, just about out of control of the situation when the memories flooded Optimus’ senses, and spilled over into him like so much energon from an opened cube.

So many voices they were crying out cheering laughing sounds of victory singing singing singing singing reverent voices ringing out in discordant joy marching and dancing and hands thrown into the air clutching crushed crystal petals of cybertronian flowers that were released and tossed into sparkling rainbow clouds of glass crunching underfoot

Singing singing singing and cheering and mechanisms faceless and infinite in a sea of color reaching out to touch to feel to stroke over armor reverently and warmly the song muffled and too loud all at once the lyrics unrecognizable but somehow still known and verse after verse after verse repeating-

Song chant droning and matching his sparkbeat filling his head as he moves through the crowd NO as the crowd pushes him along NO as he is pulled along by the spark PLEASE NO and the singing is only getting louder echoing from buildings and cliffs and off panes of crystal towering overhead the likes of which have long since been mined to nothing on Cybertron I DON’T WANT TO SEE THIS AGAIN

Trepan was withdrawing before he could even think about it. Frantically untangling himself from the thoughts that were too loud to be from Optimus’ tempered, pleasant mind.

Urging him forwards forwards forwards footsteps heavy and slow and reluctant and on the throne before him the figure is slumped and limp and pierced through with thirteen blades of light NO NO NO and were it not for the piercing fear-white glow of their eyes they could be dead for all the energon I DON’T WANT TO SEE and they are not huge or grand or glorious and their golden armor is stained with sickly purple-pink and their biolights glow white-hot where they’re not bubbling energon and NO and someone else is here. Not Optimus, whose mind is eerily quiet. Not Trepan, who can’t help but see even when it only takes microseconds to break the connection. Someone is begging and fearful and Trepan knows foreign, invasive code when he feels it.

And this is not some invasive virus, this isn’t some malicious code, or someone else’s mnemosurgical softwork come round on it’s host.

He breaks the connection cold and pulls his hand from Optimus’ helm fast and violently, and they both scream. Trepan sharp and short, Optimus wailing like a wounded animal for a terrible moment. Trepan has had connections broken violently before- it’s always unpleasant. Like a shock of superchilled saltwater across the body and mind. He can’t even be angry when Optimus flails for a moment, only to half-roll and purge his tanks off the side of the slab. He’d retch up too, if he didn’t force his lips shut and to forcibly swallow anything threatening to rise to his mouth.

“You.” He turns on Optimus after a moment to vent heavily, and the ranger looks at him with the startled confusion of a mechanisms freshly woken from recharge. “IDIOT.” Thankfully, the nearest thing is a thin, light datapad, so it doesn’t do much damage when he throws it at Optimus with all the force his slender frame can muster. Optimus barely managed to shield his face with his arm, regardless.

"I-!"

Trepan doesn't give him a moment to try to argue or apologize or say anything, really. "You send me in blind, unknowing, unprepared-" He throws a box of sanitizing wipes, this time, and Optimus rolls off the far side of the slab to take cover. Trepan feels raw. Like his armor has been stripped off. He'll be reeling for days and he knows it. "-you knew! You've no, no glitch, no errors, you idiot!"

"I'm sorry!" Optimus peers from his hiding place, wary, and only just ducks in time to avoid another box of supplies. "I thought it wouldn't matter!"

"That you're a frelling prophet?! That you're Primus-touched?!" Trepan will be embarrassed about how undignified he's being later. Once the hysterics fade. "What kind of prime goes off to do a ranger's duty-?!"

"I'm not a prime!" Optimus yells, and there's a particular note of desperation in it that makes Trepan go quiet, save for the too-loud-too-fast wheezing of his vents. His hand is numb, he realizes, needles retracted and a tingling that has crept up his arm nearly to his shoulder.

It echoes a ghost of a sensation in his processor. He shudders to think of if he'd stayed connected without proper guards in place. He heard stories, colleagues who were burned out of others' minds.

"I'm not a prime." Optimus says again, softer. Wary as he peers out again, clutching the edge of the slab. "I'm not. I won't be."

"You don't get to choose that sort of thing, you fool." Trepan spits the words.

"The Autobots don't engage in functionism like that. Cybertron has changed." A weak argument.

"Not that much, it hasn't." Trepan stalks towards the slab, mindful of the puddle of soured energon and organic foodstuffs, glaring down at Optimus who crouches still. It's almost funny, in a vastly different way than Optimus' tentative nerves had been at first.

A Primus-touched priest, crouching fearfully before a lowly criminal. Hilarious.

"No-one in their sane mind would have allowed this." Trepan bares his teeth in a grimace, but now that he can think again, the drowning music fading from his mind quick, he is starting to plan, as is his nature. To tease new thoughts. "You said you apprenticed at the archives."

"I was not lying." Optimus sounds guilty and isn't that just pathetic? Someone who should have spent their life in unfairly blissful comfort and praise looking down at the floor like a scolded student. "I served my apprenticeship under Alpha Trion."

The pieces were coming together. "Trion Prime. A little priest in training, then? Too good or too valuable to be trained at the temples?"

"...It wasn't like that. There's no more primes."

"That's molten slag and you know it. I don't care if they abdicated their power and cracked the matrices. High Lords and Alphas are nothing but primes under a fresh coat of paint and you should be one of them! You should be sitting on a throne, having your pedes kissed." It feels good to be mean, now. To hiss the words that make Optimus only cringe and hunker down further. "What happened? Trion decide you weren't up to task? Did the priests decide you couldn't cut it?"

"I said it wasn't like that. No-one knew."

"...no one knew. No one knew a blessed one was wandering amongst them."

"Trion helped me to hide."

Trepan's processor was spinning with possibilities and uncertainties. So he straightened up, took a deep vent in...and turned, stalking from the room. "Clean up the mess you've made. Then we are going to sit, and finish the bottle of energon, and you will explain to me everything that has happened."

He didn't bother to look back to see if Optimus was complying, knowing he would.

Change of plans, then.

What in all the facets of the pit did you do with a secret like that in your hands?

[bryonysimcox]

Cutting, calling, sticking, sitting, subtitling: Week 15, Spain

With future certainty and concrete plans nowhere in sight, this week’s blog post is in praise of the mundane. Seven days of everyday life.

When prepping for this blog entry, I started panicking. What’s the overarching message? The big-picture mood of the week or the lesson I’ve learnt? Well this week, there isn’t one. It’s been seven days of everyday life and I reckon that’s worth celebrating too.

We’ve been pitching for some exciting work this week.

I can’t talk about the specifics, but it’s heartening to be actually planning and quoting for real-life projects that could bring in real-life money and real-life experience. We pretty much work on Broaden as a full-time venture anyway (regardless of if it makes us money), so when prospective clients reach out to Broaden to ask us to do more of what we love, then that’s a bonus.

I guess that’s the beauty of filmmaking, it’s so broad and its potential is so great that it can be valuable for a whole lot of people. I also think in the coming ‘new normal’ as countries, cities and communities come to adapt life around Covid-19, that the role of video and online streaming will shift, and perhaps become a more central element in our lives.

I’ve also been working away at editing the video we started filming last week about Economics for a more just and equitable world. It’s starting to take shape, though there is a lot of refinement needed (I’ve cut 150 minutes down to 30 minutes but still have a fair way to go!). Working on this video is also bringing about a newfound challenge of how we make videos like this visually stimulating, when they predominantly feature digital interviews and we can’t film footage out and about due to lockdown. It’s forcing us to get more creative with motion graphics, which is no bad thing.

In what is the culmination of a longstanding project, we also interviewed Rich Evans about The Foundations in New South Wales this week.

‘The Foundations’ is a truly extraordinary project/place in Portland, a tiny town about two-hours inland from Sydney. I first discovered the project when I worked in Australia, and the company I worked for, RobertsDay, was involved in a masterplanning process. Portland was established around a cementworks which went on to not only be the driving economic force behind the town, but also the backbone of the community. It was a source of civic pride (cement from Portland famously went to Sydney amid the building boom, coining it the phrase ‘The Town That Built Sydney’), and also helped establish social infrastructure like the swimming pool that is still a celebrated destination in the little town today. Sadly, as the cementworks decreased in scale and eventually closed in the nineties, it had a huge impact on the town.

(images) Scenes from January 2019 when we started filming at The Foundations, Portland NSW.

Back at RobertsDay, I had the pleasure of working on the masterplan and placemaking work for the next chapter of the cementworks, and I immediately fell in love with the place. Not only was it this incredible place of industrial heritage, but the owners actually wanted to transform the site into something really special - a tourist destination, an asset to the community, and a revitalised part of the town. From its current state - fenced-off, closed, and perhaps even an eyesore, the owners wanted to introduce artwork, markets, community gardens, museum collections, fishing and camping, weddings, concerts and a whole host of other things.

It was obvious that there was a story about The Foundations that deserved to be told, and so in January 2019 George and I spent a weekend there, filming local residents, business owners, and the wonderful Rich Evans, ‘Chief Reactivation Officer’ from The Foundations. This was before we’d even launched Broaden, but we were passionate to use filmmaking to document the transformation that was taking place there. However, over the course of 2019, other things took centre stage in our lives and we never got around to editing the final film.

And so, in lockdown here in Spain, we decided it was finally time to close off this story. Just this week,we called Rich over Zoom and asked him all about how things have progressed since we last visited Portland. Rich is a larger-than-life character who had so much good stuff to report (an artist in residence, growing market attendee numbers, new custom-designed public furniture, and the renovation of a central historic building which involved the removal of 1000s of bees!).

In a strange way, I’d originally thought of this hiatus as a weakness for our film, but it now has added another facet to the story: giving Rich a chance to reflect on progress at The Foundations and show viewers how much is possible in the space of a year.

Making collages serves as respite for the mind.

I return to my collage practice as a meditative practice, and a restorative one too. It’s something I do when I want to clear my mind, and use a different part of my brain from the video-editing-zoom-calling-analytical-planning side of my brain.

That said, the last few paper collages I’ve made have felt like a bit of struggle, and I’ve felt rather uninspired. The collages are never meant to be a forced thing, but instead something visceral and playful, but in recent times they’d stopped being that.

Until this week! This week, inspired to make a collage for my mum’s birthday, I started getting my boxes of magazines and compiled sheets out, stuck my ‘Making Collage’ playlist on, and somehow just found my groove. Shapes and forms shouted out to me, and I was more preoccupied with the mood of the pieces than perfection and precision. I was drawn to more ambiguous textures and the way that they could be layered, and what started as one collage ended up being a series of three (the other two of which I’ll later publish this week).

(image) The collage I made for my mum’s birthday, ‘Flirtatious Textures’.

Whilst I’ve feel as though I’ve found my swing with collage-making again (and have been also considering embarking on some critical writing about my creative process using academic texts for reference), this week I had a piece rejected. I’d made it to enter into a competition, and when the rejection email landed in my inbox this week, the usual heart-racing pangs of inadequacy entered my mind. Not only had I lost money on the entry fee, but my work was ‘unwanted’. I’ve spent some time facing those demons these last couple of days and reminding myself that I make my work for ME.

So if that’s the cutting and sticking, and the zoom interviews were the calling, what’s the sitting and subtitling this week’s post refers to?

We’ve been doing a lot of sitting. Sitting and staring, sitting and watching the sun set, sitting and reading books, sitting and checking Instagram, sitting and feeling guilt for sitting, sitting and swatting mosquitoes away (it’s rather hot all of a sudden), sitting and eating crisps, sitting and calling friends, sitting and laughing, smiling, frowning, thinking.

(images, left to right) Everyday scenes from the cottage, cutting and sticking, and a lot of sitting (as demonstrated by George!)

It feels totally bonkers that as we face a global health pandemic, all I’m drawn to do (or able to do) is sit. And George and I have certainly discussed the guilt, lack of motivation, boredom and soul-searching that’s grown (and comes along with sitting!) in recent weeks. I’m not sure if there’s some grand benefit to all this sitting, but it has called for the enjoyment of many a good book, and also a good phonecall.

One of the most joyful moments (spent sitting!) this week was surely the video call I had for my Granny’s 80th birthday, between my mum, my brother, my aunt and my Granny herself. There were laughs and cheers, ridiculous filters used and lots of talk of birthday booze and plentiful cake. But after the call, there were also moments of reflection and of gratitude; that we are able to celebrate together (albeit digitally) for the momentous milestone that is my wonderful Granny’s eightieth birthday, as she sits alone in her house in Scotland, is a blessing. Of course, I would have loved to have seen her in person, but I am so bloody grateful that we can connect to her even if just through the airwaves.

Birthdays in May seem to be a common occurrence in my family, and this week saw my Mum’s birthday too. Again, there was a sense of loss that unsurprisingly, I couldn’t be with her due to coronavirus (a fact made worse by the fact I don’t think I’ve been with my Mum on her birthday for about five years), but we were also able to chat and videocall. And I was also able to go back through my photos, reflecting on wonderful times shared across the years.

(images, left to right) Looking back at memories with mum - as a child in a sling, on our trip to Sri Lanka in 2018, and at the exhibition opening of ‘Talking Sense’ where one of her sculptures was displayed at the Portico Library last year.

Access to computers and the internet, free time to sit and chill, and family who are safe and sound is not a privilege everyone shares. And I am so aware of that.

I continue to think of the inequalities this pandemic is highlighting, and the gaps it is widening. Access to the fundamental elements for a just and equitable life are basic human rights, and yet as BBC newsnight’s Emily Maitlis reminded us, 'The disease is not a great leveller'. If while I’m sitting this week, I can at least read, watch, learn and share ideas about how we can tackle these gaping inequalities, my sitting was perhaps not in vain.

As our fifteenth week on the road drew to a close, and looked ever less like life actually ‘on the road’, I decided to take on the task of subtitling The Hundred Miler.

Initially, the only motivation to create comprehensive subtitles for Broaden’s thirty minute documentary was so that we could enter foreign film fests. And even then, we’d have had it professionally subtitled if we weren’t looking for ways to save money!

And so I naively embarked on what was to become a two-day odyssey involving Artificial Intelligence transcript detection, manually correcting the script, learning about timecodes, downloading .srt files and working to integrate them with YouTube.

The long and short of it is that The Hundred Miler (which also hit a whopping 100,000 views this week) now has complete ‘closed caption’ subtitles which you can use and enjoy on YouTube! But more than that, through conversations with others I realised the importance of subtitles from an accessibility perspective, as a critical tool to help deaf and hard-of-hearing people, as well as those for whom English isn’t their mother tongue. It was a refreshing reminder that we exclude people without meaning to, but that we can also actively include them if we take certain measures.

So that’s it, Week 15 in all its mundane glory. To those of you who are still here, reading my reflections on these strange and tumultuous times, thank you. Maybe this week you’ve been cutting, calling, sticking, sitting and subtitling too, and for that, I salute you.