#we’re both so normal op

[lilyminer]

When I tell you after my third relisten I was fully ready to drop my lifelong passion for animal biology to go into library science I’m being so fr.

I might have been on a very different path right now if my local library didn’t reject my application for a junior position.

pretty normal podcast listening experience i think,

[vicsy]

what saddens me the most about the Lance situation as it is, especially in the lights of the tweet liked by Bianca Bustamante (who is a signed junior driver at McLaren as of today) where op calls Lance “an autist”, apart from the regular “just a pay driver” shtick, is the normalization of hating Lance. somehow people in the fandom and evidently among the actual drivers (hello, Drugo, you bitch) have adopted a rhetoric that paints Lance as someone who is ok to hate because: a) daddy owns the team; b) doesn’t have goat level results; c) just because! he’s not widely loved, so it’s all fine, all good. and it’s not real since we’re on the internet. right?

it’s sickening to see what people say about him (both using ableist language, antisemitic comments etc) and then defend themselves saying “well you see he’s this and that and this so I hate him”. you don’t. you’re just full of inhuman hate and need an outlet. or you wanna be one of the “cool kids” which means only liking certain drivers and shitting on the others. fucking check yourselves.

since f1 fandom across all platforms is far from healthy, you get used to seeing takes that make you want to gouge your eyes out, yet Lance seems to be the most popular target of that hatred, unbiased as it is. it’s not even fully about the money or the fact that Lance, indeed, has a father who loves him very much and made sure his son got all the opportunities in the world. you can be mad about it all you want but it won’t change anything.

the line between not liking a particular driver and straight up mixing him with dirt is non-existent these days.

in all honesty, if Lance really didn’t care about racing, at all, he would have walked away already. why risk your life if you’re already set for life money wise? sit and think about that for a bit.

regarding the tweet recently liked by Bianca — I want to make it clear that I’m not familiar with her and I am not hating on her, simply judging this incident — I can’t help but wonder. you made it to f1 and you know how soc med works. likes are public. why? answer might not be clear. but entertain this idea — if there was already a precedent where she found it ok to like a tweet that praises her and shits on Lance, imagine what the kind of mindset there is already in place. so many things we don’t know about that happens behind the scenes.

this isn’t the last we have shit like that happen and it isn’t the first. doesn’t make it any less frustrating and rage inducing.

[physalian]

Character Types: The “Fixer”

Oh look it’s another chance to bring exposure to casual traumas in real people thinly disguised as writing advice heyyyyy

The “Fixer” is the character who puts everyone else before themselves, but isn’t quite so self-destructive as the jaded loner—this person’s whole schtick is that everyone else’s needs and emotions come first, which will usually end up with them behaving and appearing very extroverted, fun, and kind.

They have no idea they’re doing it, either, and see nothing wrong with their behavior or what logic there is in saving a little slice of the pie for themselves. They’re not self-loathers or angsty abusers and if there are parts of themselves that they don’t like, they probably think of these aspects as “what can you do? Oh well” with zero motivation to exercise their demons, because they don't see them as demons but something they deserve to suffer with.

Or, they know exactly what they’re doing and cannot see the merit at all in themselves deserving a piece of the pie, as if they’re inherently lesser than everyone around them for Reasons they cannot articulate, Reasons that, if their friends or loved ones share the exact same traits, they’d bend over backwards and make excuses for. They have normalized their existence that there’s nothing left to angst over. “I am lesser” is just. A statement of fact.

These characters come in several flavors:

The parental figure (possibly single) or “mature” one in the family who’s always prepared, always has the big backpack with bandaids and wet-naps, probably the first to say “we’re family, all’s forgiven” in effort to keep the peace.  They’re the person who literally eats last or not at all, even when conserving food isn’t necessary, usually with the smallest, now-cold serving. Also can be the parentified sibling.

The person in a romantic relationship doing a whole lot more giving than receiving, whether it’s physically or emotionally, insisting that they’re fine, that their partner need not go out of their way to do XYZ for them, but is incredibly in tune with anything and everything that their partner might need. They’re likely to be in an abusive relationship, either emotionally or physically, or both, because a sensible partner who loves Fixer as much as the Fixer loves them wouldn’t let Fixer get away with an unfair share of back-breaking emotional labor. The abuser takes full advantage of it and laughs when they’re not looking.

The “mom” of the hero team/friend group, similar to the actual parental figure, but in this dynamic, everyone’s about the same age. The Fixer probably isn’t the leader, but second or third in command, as they don’t think themselves capable of making the Big Decisions and prefer running support. They take the most cramped bedroom, the most undesirable odd jobs, and do far more than their share of the chores and other tasks, probably without the rest of the group realizing it until something happens to them. No one asks this of them, they automatically assume this is their burden and don’t even think to suggest equal shares.

Alternate case:

They’re the “leader” because no one else wants to do the job, pretending to be way less stressed than they are and habitually protecting their team from the worst of it with little white lies, to the point where no one has any idea how much they’re suffering in silence until they eventually break. As opposed to a properly communicative leader who regularly delegates important tasks and is very transparent in all their decisions. They might also be the leader because they don’t think anyone else in their team could perform as well under pressure, pressure they’ve been under their whole life.

I actually wrote two of these, the Original, and then the Original Who Went to Therapy, between two different WIPs.

Original was the second in command of a plucky space crew in the sci-fi WIP I always mention, who was very versatile and OP and thus took it upon himself to take the lion’s share of the work around the ship because he could do it quickly and delegating the tasks to the rest of the crew was, to him, objectively pointless. He was also an empath with an ability he couldn’t turn off, literally stuck doing the emotional labor far and above normal human conditions.

He was a firm believer in “if I can, I must” and repeatedly put himself in dangerous situations because he’s the only one who could escape them alive, and to not act would be selfish, and above all else, he feared looking selfish. This all came to a head when Magical Shenanigans ensued and his own powers turned against him, stressing him to the point of his body going “we are taking a Break” and he got bedridden until he learned how to talk about his feelings and let people in.

While he was sick, him Not Being There for when the rest of the plot carried on without him meant that  his team very badly felt his absence because he did so much without them realizing it, and they did not handle it well, picking a different character to shovel all the labor onto, until they too overstrained themselves, and an intervention was necessary.

He was the friendliest character of the team to their newest member, their only cheerleader when the whole rest of his team was skeptical. He was also quite desperate for validation and approval, to the point where he made a bunch of little white lies that quickly caught up with him, pretending to be something he’s not so people would like him.

—

When I ripped the above character out of that WIP and tossed him and another character into Eternal Night, he got an upgrade and a whole bunch of therapy.

Enter Dorian. The main difference between these two is that Dorian can actually stand up for himself and establish boundaries, and got a friend/girlfriend who went “I can fix him” and actually did. He’s still very much a Fixer with a Martyr complex, a vampire who only turned to make sure the people he was stuck with held up their end of a deal and did not expect to keep living after the deal was done…for about three hundred and fifty more years.

This is a character who was a parentified Fixer, sixteen years older than his oopsie little sibling, and did not handle it well when they were separated. He’s very obvious to everyone who knows him, especially when those people have known him for centuries, and know “yeah give that one a little kid to protect and he will predictably fall on his own stake”.

One of his love interests (he’s poly), the “I can fix him” girlfriend, is not at all afraid to call him out on his martyr bullshit, or when he’s bending over backwards trying to save people who don’t want to be saved, or risking his own sanity, health, and reputation for people who insist they don’t want his help.

I specifically designed and introduced Kymiria to look and act like a stereotypically jealous mean girl who doesn’t want to share her man with the protagonist. Except. She’s right. About everything. She knows Dorian extremely well and got him through some awful shit and isn’t about to stand by and watch him break himself again for someone who she thinks doesn’t deserve him (and she’s also right on that point). How she goes about protecting him is totally different.

But for the mortals who live with his coven, he’s the most popular vampire around and the favorite by all the children for a country mile. No one who hasn’t been living with him for decades has any idea that there’s anything traumatic behind his smiles.

—

I like writing Fixer characters because I don’t get to see enough of them. They’re not as popular as the Angsty Sad Boy and certainly not as popular as My Trauma Excuses My Aggression Boy. People who have suffered tend to fall on either end of two extremes: Either they continue the cycle of hate and abuse or they make absolutely certain no one in their life will ever suffer what they did. I like writing and reading the latter, particularly when they're men as most “fixers” we think of emphasize “womanly” traits of kindness and nurturing.

These characters are also their own worst enemies. Their inability to treat themselves as deserving of respect and forgive themselves continuously gets them into sticky situations that they wouldn’t be in if they were just a little bit more willing to put their own needs first.

—

If you're interested in reading my take on Fixers in a bona fide novel, check out Eternal Night of the Northern Sky!

[starlightkun]

➠ word count: 13.5k ➠ warnings: scenes of a child crying if you don’t want to read that (nightmares and stuff), also people are called mommy/daddy in this so if you can’t be normal abt that please skip this one ➠ genre: fluff, angst? but like around them in terms of life not within their relationship, established relationship, parents sungchan/reader, former hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), part of the buzzer beater series (after freezing the puck, or if you’ve only read buzzer beater & 27jsc, this should still make sense!) ➠ extra info: the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines, experiences as a chronically ill person, and thoughts about being chronically ill are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines/chronic illnesses, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds! ➠ author’s note: i can’t believe we’re finally done omg. i miss them so much already 🤧 thank you so much to everybody who has followed along with this series! i wasn’t expecting this to be a whole series, nor for so many people to like this fic that i started when i was feeling super frustrated with my migraines. it was definitely something that was super personal and specific to me that i was blown away by how many of y’all liked it and told me you related. so thank you, again!! ➠ series masterlist

“Really? You’re reading Breton lais to our child?” Sungchan’s teasing whisper was barely audible. “He’s going to start school saying stuff like nary and furthermore.”

“Says the man who knew I was reading a Breton lai,” you shot back just as quietly.

“Binnie, are you ready to go see Daddy?” You asked your son excitedly as you unbuckled his seatbelt, helping him out of the backseat and onto the parking lot pavement.

“Yeah!” He yelled out, the small sound echoing impressively in the open area. The five-year-old ran ecstatic circles around you as you walked calmly towards the university’s ice rink. “Mommy, am I skating with Daddy today?”

“I don’t know, you’ll have to ask him nicely after he’s done working,” you informed Woobin as he skidded to a half-skip half-walk next to you, grabbing your gloved hand with his.

Walking into the hockey rink that you knew like the back of your own hand at this point, you saw the Raptors still practicing, and guided your son into the bleachers so you two could watch. Woobin climbed up on the seat next to you, standing on it so he could actually see, and you offered a hand for him to keep himself balanced. He used it until he felt stable, then pushed it away insistently. A few of the players waved at you two, and you both waved back, your son as enthusiastic as ever when he got noticed, waving practically with his entire little body.

Sungchan was on the ice, directing two players with his back to you, and as he skated backward away from them for them to line up and continue practicing, he happened to glance over his shoulder and in your direction. You raised a casual hand in greeting, and he waved back. Woobin sent him a zealous, flying kiss with his whole arm, and Sungchan visibly laughed and immediately went to do it back. After the two players that he’d been instructing had presumably corrected the issue, your husband gave them both pats on the shoulder before skating over your way.

Woobin screamed out a “Hi Daddy!” so loud you were sure the entire campus could hear him, and every head on the ice turned around to look. You burst into laughter, rubbing his back fondly at his enthusiasm, and Sungchan covered his face as he chortled as well.

A few minutes later and Coach called practice, the players slowly starting to filter off the ice and into the locker room. You guided Woobin down through the bleachers towards the gate, where Sungchan was waiting for the two of you.

Your husband had already opened the gate to the ice, standing on the flooring just off it, where you and your son were walking. Woobin flung himself at his legs at full-speed, and Sungchan easily picked him up, beaming as he kissed his forehead.

“Hey, buddy!” Sungchan grinned, readjusting your son’s beanie.

“Hi, Daddy!” He chirped back, bouncing in his arms.

“Hi, hon,” he kissed your cheek, and you gave his a quick peck in greeting as well.

“Hey, Channie.” You slipped your arm around his back in a one-armed hug. “Little dude wants to ask you something.”

“Oh really?” Sungchan focused his inquisitive eyebrow raise at your son.

“Can I skate with you? Please? Pretty please? Pretty pretty please?” Woobin immediately put on his best pout and puppy dog eyes, a display that always made you wonder how he wasn’t genetically Sungchan’s. The two of you had agreed some time ago that with your chronic migraines having a genetic component, you didn’t want to risk passing it down, and had looked into fostering initially. Woobin was your first placement at just a few days old, and he never left, the adoption going through right before his second birthday.

“Mr. Coach ended practice early, so we do have a few minutes,” your husband qualified his acquiescence.

“Yay!”

“You joining us, hon?”

“Sure.”

After fetching yours and your son’s skates from his office, Sungchan helped Woobin put his on, then double checked yours as always. Having married a former collegiate hockey player turned collegiate hockey coach, you’d gotten proficient enough at lacing up your own skates, but he wanted be sure every time that you weren’t going to twist your ankle, or have them come untied, or something else unfortunate.

Coach was still on the ice with the current goalie and center on one end, so you and your family kept to the other side. Woobin squealed and yipped with delight as Sungchan half-carried and half-pulled him around on the ice, you trailing behind with a fond smile on your lips as you watched on.

“Mr. Coach!” Woobin suddenly called to the other end of the rink.

“Oh, Binnie, Mr. Coach is working right now,” Sungchan tried to divert him. “We should leave him alone for now, buddy.”

“What was that, champ?” Coach’s gruff voice responded, the older man starting in your direction.

Woobin was absolutely thrilled to have his attention now, trying to pull Sungchan that way. “Mr. Coach! Mr. Coach!”

“I’m right here, kiddo,” he smoothly stopped right in front of your son. “I’m old but I’m not deaf yet. What do you want to tell me?”

“Mommy signed me up for my own hockey team today!” Woobin told him proudly. “Are you gonna be my coach too?”

“I don’t coach every hockey team in the world, you know.”

Woobin looked down at his skates dejectedly, as if he hadn’t considered this possibility before now.

“But… I did let your dad talk me into being his assistant coach for a certain little league team this season. Was that yours?” Coach asked teasingly, making the boy let out a loud gasp of realization.

“Was it, Daddy? Was it?” He looked up at your husband with wide eyes.

“Maybe…” Sungchan replied with a sly grin.

Woobin rounded on you, buzzing with excitement. “Did you hear that, Mommy? Mr. Coach is gonna be my coach!”

“I heard, buddy. Just like he was your Daddy’s coach,” you chuckled. Looking up at the older man, you added, “How does that make you feel, Coach? Teaching multiple generations?”

“Like my back is going to give out any day now,” he groaned and grabbed his lumbar. “Don’t remind me, Y/N, please.”

You laughed, making a motion of zipping up your lips and throwing away the key.

“Anyway, let me finish up with these two,” he gestured to the two Raptors still milling about on the other end of the ice. “Are you locking up, Jung?”

“Not today, got some errands to run before buddy’s naptime,” Sungchan explained.

“I’m five, I don’t need a nap anymore!” Woobin insisted.

“Hey, champ, look at me,” Coach requested, and waited until he had his attention before continuing. “How old do you think I am?”

“I don’t know, like a hundred?”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, grabbing Sungchan’s arm for support as he at least had the decency to cover his mouth to hide his chuckles.

Coach nodded, not breaking eye contact with your son. “Exactly. I’m like a hundred, and I still take naps.”

“Really?”

“Really. You need them to make sure your brain—” he poked the boy’s forehead “—and your body—” he poked his belly, making him giggle “—are at their best. Especially a growing kid like you.”

“So why do you need them? If you’re not a kid anymore?”

“I’m saying you need them extra because you’re a kid. Grown-ups need them sometimes too.”

He pouted thoughtfully for a moment, then pointed up at you. “Mommy takes naps when she has a migraine. That’s when her head hurts really, really bad.”

“There you go. Told you they weren’t just for kids.” Coach stood up straight, cracking his back with a satisfied groan. “I’ll see you all later, okay?”

“Bye, Mr. Coach!” Woobin waved enthusiastically.

“See you Monday, Coach,” Sungchan nodded to him.

You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him, and he shot you a wink over his shoulder before skating back over to his players, his voice immediately souring as he started barking out orders again.

With the excitement of his upcoming little league team on his mind, your son insisted on having Sungchan show him moves and maneuvers today. You were of course the default practice dummy both for Sungchan to demonstrate, and your son to practice. Which only worked so well since none of you had sticks or a puck or gear of any kind except for your skates, but Woobin was having fun, so you were happy.

Coach eventually finished with the guys at the other end, and as you saw him start off the ice first, you called out to him, “Done for the day, Coach?”

He turned back to you. “I wish! Got some paperwork to finish up in the office! If somebody’s bleeding—call 911, not me!”

You laughed, giving him a final wave as he headed off. About to turn to your family to suggest that you leave to do your errands as well, you spotted the two Raptors players still loitering by the goal, no longer practicing, and yet still not rushing to leave.

“You boys need something?” You asked them knowingly.

“Well, if it’s alright with you, Professor…” the goalie, who had been in your Intro to Literary Theory and Criticism class last spring, began.

“We were wondering if we could see if we could skate with the MVP too?” The center finished hopefully.

“Just for a little! We heard you telling Coach you guys had errands to run before his naptime!” His friend rushed to add.

Woobin’s focus had already started waning on his impromptu lesson from his dad, and as you looked over, you could see Sungchan beginning to wind down on his instructing as he realized this. You checked the time on your phone, then looked back to the two college boys. “Sure, you can ask Binnie if he wants to skate.”

They erupted into celebratory hoots, chest-bumping before practically tossing aside their unnecessary equipment. Suddenly realizing themselves, they collected themselves and turned to you, bowing their heads politely. “Thank you, Professor.”

“You’re welcome, boys,” you replied with humor in your voice, watching as they took off, seemingly racing each other to Sungchan and Woobin.

You could hear bits of their conversation from where you were leaning against the wall halfway down the rink, and watched fondly as your son’s face lit up with enthusiasm, then the Raptors players started pulling him down the ice with them, his delighted laughter bouncing around the rink.

Sungchan leisurely skated over and stopped in front of you. With a great flourish, he bowed and offered his hand out to you. You laughed, placing your hand atop his, and he dropped a kiss to the back of your gloved fingers. He stood up straight again, pulling you off the wall with little resistance from you, before taking both your hands and beginning to skate backwards in front of you, guiding you along with him. Neither of you chose to mention the fact that you knew how to skate just fine, playing along with the fun of the moment as he easily took you around the rink that you were sure he could navigate with his eyes closed at this point.

“Oh, do we have dishwasher pods on the list?” You suddenly asked as soon as the thought popped into your mind.

“We put it on there last night when we loaded the dishwasher and saw that we were almost out,” he reassured you, not even breaking stride.

“Right, thanks.” You smiled, giving his hands a squeeze.

“I also put dish soap on there this morning, by the way.”

“I love you.”

He slowed the two of you down on the far side of the rink, letting go of one of your hands to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you closer. “I love you too, baby.”

After doing a few things out and about, the three of you headed home.

“Hey, buddy,” Sungchan called for your son’s attention, his hands occupied with groceries. “Do you want me or Mommy to help you get ready for your nap? Or are you going to try to do it yourself?”

“Mm…” He looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Mommy!”

“Alright, help with the groceries then I’ll help you, Binnie,” you bargained, putting a bag down on the ground in his reach.

As Woobin dutifully put the bags of chips and boxes of gummies on the lower shelves of the pantry that he could reach, you and Sungchan quickly put away the rest of the groceries. When there was just cleaning and other household supplies left, your husband grabbed those and nodded towards your son.

“Go put buddy down, I’ve got this.”

“Thanks, Channie,” you pecked his cheek before turning to your child. “Lead the way!”

Woobin was able to get into his pajamas by himself, so you were really just there to tuck him in and kiss his forehead. You never bought into the “cry themselves out” mindset from the get-go, and to this day would sit with him until he fell asleep if he asked.

Except this time, he didn’t get into bed at all, standing next to the piece of furniture with you and staring at it like you were about to cliff dive instead of nap. He looked up at you, and you already saw his bottom lip quivering.

“Mommy?”

“Yeah, Binnie, I’m right here, my sweet,” you promised, kneeling down in front of him so you were eye-to-eye. “What’s wrong?”

He threw his arms around your neck, taking quick, shallow breaths as he very bravely tried to communicate with you. “I don’t wanna—I don’t wanna…”

“Okay, I won’t make you right now,” you promised, rubbing his back. “Will you tell me what’s making you upset? Is it the nap? Going to sleep? Did you have a bad dream?”

But he had already devolved into incomprehensible sobs, and you bit your lip at the twinge in your chest. “Alright, sweet, how about we go to Mommy and Daddy’s room? Hm? And I’ll read you something. If you don’t want to nap, you don’t have to today, okay? Sound good?”

You could feel him nod into your shoulder, and that was all you needed to pick him up and settle him on your hip to carry him out of his room. As you passed by Sungchan putting away new bottles of dish soap and dishwasher pods under the sink, he gave you a concerned look. You mouthed a ‘later’ to him as you took your son across your house and into your room. As you passed by your bookshelf, you quickly selected a book, then sat down at the head of your bed, Woobin on your lap. Pulling your blanket up over you two, you let him get settled in and comfortable, still very much crying all the while.

Holding your book with one hand and resting the other on his back, you started reading. After a while, his sobs died down to hiccups, which petered out to just the occasional sniffle. But you could see that he was still awake, his eyes open and following your place as you read. Then, after a while longer, they started to slowly fall shut and his chin would tilt down, then he’d quickly open his eyes again and jerk his head up. Finally, he couldn’t fight the heaviness of his lids, and he fell asleep. You put your bookmark in where you were just before his eyes closed, but kept reading past that, just in case. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the door handle slowly turn, and your bedroom door inch open before Sungchan peered in.

Your husband pointed to the boy in your lap, then made a gesture of pretending to sleep on a pillow, lifting his eyebrows questioningly after. You nodded, still reading softly.

Sungchan slipped in the room, closing the door quietly behind him as well. Having come to a stopping place, you finally closed your book and set it aside on the one you already had on your nightstand.

“Really? You’re reading Breton lais to our child?” Sungchan’s teasing whisper was barely audible. “He’s going to start school saying stuff like nary and furthermore.”

“Says the man who knew I was reading a Breton lai,” you shot back just as quietly.

“Getting married to a lit professor, you pick up a few things.” He then looked down at Woobin. “What happened?”

You sighed and readjusted slightly to hold him tighter now that you had two free arms. “I don’t know. He couldn’t tell me. As soon as he had to get into bed for his nap he just… broke down.”

A deep frown cut across Sungchan’s face as he stroked your son’s hair, but he said nothing else. He left the room, and you heard him moving around throughout the house as you picked up the other book from your nightstand. Eventually, he meandered back in, sitting on his side of the bed and setting up his laptop to quietly work beside you as your son continued napping on your lap and you continued your book. In addition to doing research at the university and being the assistant coach for the hockey team, Sungchan had picked up teaching a couple of Intro to Biology for majors sections, and you could see him answering emails from his students out of the corner of your eye. You were rereading the material for the Direct Study you were leading next semester.

Eventually, Woobin slowly started stirring, grumbling, yawning, and rubbing at his eyes before burying his face back in your chest with a sigh. You stroked his back, attention still on your book. He turned over in your arms when he finally decided that he was awake, blinking his eyes open and staring off into the middle distance.

“Hey, Binnie, you awake?” Sungchan asked quietly.

He nodded slowly, stretching his arms up, and you had to duck your head out of the way to avoid getting smacked in the face by a stray hand.

“Sleep good?” Your husband kept talking to him.

He nodded again, letting out another adorable little yawn.

“Of course you did,” Sungchan chuckled, gently pinching the tip of his nose. “You got the best seat in the house right there, bud.”

Woobin made grabby hands at Sungchan, and he moved his laptop to the side to transfer him from your lap to his, pressing a kiss to his forehead once he was settled in against his chest.

“Uncle Chenle is going to be over soon,” you reminded your son of your plans for the night. “Are you excited?”

He perked up at this. “Yeah! He said he was gonna bring me back a souvenir!”

“He does love to spoil you,” Sungchan shook his head, ruffling the boy’s hair.

As Woobin busied himself with his toys in his room, the horrors of naptime all but forgotten, you and Sungchan were having a fervent, whispered conversation in your bedroom.

“Should we even go tonight?” You asked, pulling your outfit on.

“I know, I’m worried about bedtime…” Sungchan sighed, nevertheless assisting you with your zipper.

“Chenle’s really good with him, and you know how much he dotes on Woobin.” You paused in front of the mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles. You weren’t sure if you were trying to convince yourself or your husband at this point.

“I know, I don’t doubt how much he loves our kid, or how much buddy loves him,” he replied, fidgeting with his tie behind you. “I just… would hate to not be there.”

“Me too,” you replied quietly, turning around to fix his tie yourself. “I can practically feel the stress migraine coming on thinking about it.”

“Okay, well don’t do that, baby,” Sungchan insisted, resting his hands on your waist to pull you closer. “I mean, that didn’t happen at bedtime yesterday, did it?”

“No, it didn’t,” you agreed. “Or naptime yesterday…”

“Who’s to say it’ll happen at bedtime today?” He suggested. “Might’ve been a one-time thing. Or only for naps.”

“Right.” You breathed out, having finished with his tie, and now looked up at him questioningly. “So we’re going?”

“Seems like it.”

“We should still give Chenle a heads-up.”

“Of course.”

Chenle pulled up in his sleek luxury car soon after, and you made sure to greet him at the door while Sungchan helped Woobin put his toys up.

“Whew! Look at you!” Chenle whistled as he pulled back from hugging you, grabbing your hand and twirling you around. “MILF! MILF! MILF!”

You laughed, shaking him off. “Quiet! You’re a menace, I swear. You better be filtering around my child.”

“Of course, of course.” He held his hands up in surrender, and you saw that one held a gift bag. A rather large gift bag.

“And what did you bring him this time? Milan, was it?”

“A model of the Arco della Pace for us to build together, of course.”

“Oh, of course.” You shook your head fondly, but couldn’t stop the worry from overtaking your mood. “Chenle, I do have to tell you something.”

Your friend immediately matched your change in mood, furrowing his brow with concern. “Everything okay, Y/N?”

“When I was trying to put Binnie down for his nap today, he couldn’t get into his bed. He couldn’t tell me what was wrong, he just started crying and saying he didn’t want to. He had to take his nap in our room with the two of us. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I wanted to give you a heads up, in case it happens again at bedtime, since I know you always say he’s really good for you. If it does, just call and we’ll come right back, okay? Don’t feel bad at all, it’s not your fault.”

Chenle listened carefully and nodded thoughtfully as you explained the situation to him. “Okay, yeah. Are you two sure you even want to go? We can all have a really fun hangout with Uncle Chenle and then I can peace before bedtime if that’s what needs to happen tonight.”

You gnawed on your bottom lip, but ultimately shook your head. “We told Ten we were going to be there. I’d like to at least try to see him accept the award.”

“Of course.” Chenle patted his chest. “I won’t take it personally if he starts crying for Mommy at bedtime tonight.”

“When you put it like that I really don’t want to go.”

“Go,” he insisted. “We’ll be fine.”

“Uncle Chenle!” A delighted squeal came as your son ran in, wrapping himself around Chenle’s legs like a koala.

“Hey, Binnie!” Your friend beamed down at him, squeezing his cheeks in one hand. “How are you?”

“I’m good!” His words were a little garbled as Chenle smushed his face.

“Hey, Chenle,” Sungchan greeted him as well, patting him on the shoulder as he walked by to get to your side.

“Hey, Sungchan!”

“Are you ready to go, hon?” Your husband asked you as the other two started an enthusiastic guessing game of what Chenle brought Woobin back as a souvenir from Milan.

“Yeah.” You nodded. Raising your voice slightly to address the others, you announced, “Alright, guys, we’re heading out. Binnie, Daddy and I will be back after you’re asleep, okay?”

“Goodbye and goodnight!” He darted over as you and Sungchan knelt down to each give him a hug, and two more kisses—one for goodbye, and another for his goodnight kiss, since you wouldn’t be putting him to bed. Really, when you came home, you two always checked on him and gave him one last peck goodnight then, but he of course didn’t know that.

The award for Literary Theory Journal Editor of the Year had barely been placed in Ten’s hands when you saw Sungchan’s phone light up in his lap out of the corner of your eye. He squeezed your shoulder in a silent ‘be right back’ before standing from your table and quietly slipping out of the ballroom. You kept your eyes on Ten as he gave a short and charismatic acceptance speech, clapping when everyone else did, though you stayed keenly aware of the empty seat next to you. Your friend got his picture taken and shook lots of hands on his way back to your table, and your colleagues at your table all rose to greet him when he finally returned.

“Congrats, Ten,” you hugged him, your eyes straying over his shoulder to the door that Sungchan had left through.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he patted your back, pulling away still with a wide grin. “I saw Sungchan get up, is everything alright?”

You waved off his concerns for now. “Chenle probably set off the smoke alarm or something.”

Sungchan returned just a moment later, staving off his clearly concerned face for long enough to give Ten his congrats as well.

“You missed my hilarious acceptance speech, Sungchan,” Ten clicked his tongue in feigned disappointment.

“Damn, maybe next year.”

“Ooh, you think I’ll win next year too?”

“Why not?” Sungchan shrugged. “I don’t know how all the other editors could suddenly get better than you in a year.”

“Great point.”

The awards had continued, and everyone took their seats, though your focus was only on Sungchan and whatever that call was about. He leaned over to inform you quietly, “That was Chenle. SOS for buddy’s bedtime, sounds like the same as naptime.”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“I’ll get the car,” he murmured before giving your shoulder a fleeting touch and leaving your table.

You turned to Ten to give him a real reason behind your sudden departure. “Hey, that was Chenle, and Woobin is—”

“It’s all good,” your friend cut you off with a smile, patting your arm. “Go be good parents, you’ve already been good friends. Promise.”

“Thanks.” You could feel the relieved smile on your face. “Congrats again, Ten.”

After giving your hushed goodbyes to the rest of your colleagues, you hurried out of the ballroom. Sungchan didn’t complain about the anxious death grip you had on his hand the entire ride home, simply smoothing his thumb over your knuckles as the fingers of his other hand tapped out impatient rhythms on the steering wheel at every red light you got stuck at.

Finally, you arrived home, and you didn’t even have to go searching for Woobin and Chenle, as you were barely in your foyer and Sungchan hadn’t even had the chance to finish locking the front door behind him when a small form came running in, barreling into your legs. Chenle was a few steps behind your son, entering right after him. Woobin was blubbering and sobbing against you, beyond the point of any sort of intelligible speech. You sighed forlornly and rested a hand on his head, feeling your heart break as you looked down at him, not knowing how to help him.

Sungchan immediately took your purse from your other hand, rubbing your back briefly as he passed by. As he and Chenle went to talk in the living room, you hooked your hands under your son’s arms and heaved him up onto your hip, carrying him into your room with you. You maneuvered to support him with one arm so you could take off your shoes with the other hand, tossing them in the vague direction of your closet door. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you readjusted him so that he was sitting in your lap, crying into your neck, and you gently stroked the back of his head as he shook in your arms.

“I’m right here, Binnie. I’ve got you. Mommy’s right here,” you told him softly, a hard lump growing in your throat. “You’re okay, my sweet. You’re okay. I promise, I’ve got you.”

Eventually, you heard Chenle and Sungchan’s hushed voices pass by, then the front door open and close. A couple minutes later, there was a soft knocking at your bedroom door.

“Hey, that’s Daddy,” you informed Woobin. “Is it okay if he comes in and stays with us too?”

Woobin nodded from where his face was still hidden in your neck. His sobs hadn’t stopped, and at this rate, you were worried he was going to make himself throw up with how much he was crying and hiccupping.

“Come in,” you called out.

Sungchan had already discarded his suit jacket and tie elsewhere, you realized as he slipped into the room. A pained look quickly took over his features as his eyes immediately found the two of you. He set the no-spill cup he’d brought in with him—Woobin’s favorite cartoon characters printed all around the outside—down on your nightstand as he sat down next to you.

“Hey, buddy, it’s me,” Sungchan said quietly. “I brought some water; I thought your throat might be hurting a little.”

You son let out a couple sniffles, as if contemplating this for the first time.

Your husband continued, “Do you think you can sit with me and drink some water while Mommy changes into her jammies?”

“I won’t leave the room, sweet,” you assured him. “I’ll be right here with you and Daddy.”

In lieu of a verbal response, he nodded again and loosened the vice-like grip he’d had around your neck, letting you shift him over into his dad’s arms. Before you could go run and do the fastest change of your life, Sungchan grabbed your hand, pulling you around to look at him. As you gazed down at him, with Woobin bawling inconsolably in his lap, the two of you exchanged a brief, unspoken moment of uncertainty, unknowing, of knowing that neither of you knew what to do for your son. Your hand was shaking—or maybe that was his—as you clutched each other tightly for just a second.

Then you had to let go of him to rush to change, and Sungchan tried to gently coax Woobin into taking a sip of water. You could hear him coaching your son through taking just one little sip at a time and not chugging, or he’d make himself sick. You, meanwhile, were throwing clothes into the general vicinity of where they needed to go as you pulled on new ones. The nice material now had snot and spit all over them, you were sure they’d need to be dry-cleaned anyway, so you didn’t care about the wrinkles they’d garner from being crumpled up on the floor for the night. You then rushed through taking out your hair and brushing your teeth, keeping the en suite bathroom door open all the while.

Back over with your husband and son, you saw that the task of sipping water had forced his crying to slow down considerably, and you took a deep breath to not pass on your stress back to your child. The last thing you needed to do was get him going again just because you were so worried. He also had his favorite stuffed animal tucked under his other arm, the only one that had survived from his infancy to now, a deer plushie. You didn’t even remember seeing Sungchan bring that in with him, your brain was so scrambled.

“Here, Binnie, Mommy’s back. I feel left out, I’m not the only one not in my jammies,” Sungchan joked, which didn’t even earn a giggle from your child as it normally would’ve. “You want to go back to Mommy and I’ll get changed?”

Woobin nodded, and Sungchan let you get into a more comfortable position up by the headboard before depositing your son into your arms. You could at least see some of his face from the new angle of him sitting sideways in your lap, and it was of course red, puffy, and covered in tears. Sungchan must have already cleaned up some of his snot, as you spotted several discarded tissues on the nightstand.

“Did Puck come to make sure you were okay, too?” You asked quietly, gently tapping one of the plushie’s soft antlers. Puck the Buck, as he had been so brilliantly named some time ago.

Another nod and a sniffle.

“That was nice of him.” You stroked the deer’s head. “Thank you, Puck.”

Woobin patted the deer’s head, too, and as you watched more tears fall down his cheeks, you pressed a long kiss to his hair, silently apologizing for not knowing how to fix it all right now. Sungchan came back from the bathroom just a moment later, scooting onto the bed from the other side.

“Okay, Binnie. What do you think? Do you want to watch an episode of your show?” He suggested. “Or Mommy can finish reading you Bisclavret? Or…”

As he tried to think of other options, you gave him a bewildered look over your son’s head at the fact that he apparently knew which Breton lai you were reading earlier. That was something to address later, though.

Woobin shook his head, though.

“No?” Sungchan said questioningly. “No to what? Do you want Mommy to read?”

Head shake.

“Do you want to watch an episode of your show?”

Head nod.

And so you, Woobin, Puck, and Sungchan all settled in under your covers to watch an episode of his favorite cartoon. Except you and Sungchan didn’t have a TV in your bedroom, and both of your laptops were charging across the house in your home office, so you all had to scoot in close to be able to see it on the much smaller screen of Sungchan’s phone. Puck took up a considerable amount of space when crowding around a phone to watch something, and from your vantage point mostly behind your son and the plushie, you couldn’t see a thing past the deer head and antlers, but you didn’t really care about catching up on the children’s cartoon. You were much more preoccupied with listening for Woobin’s sniffles to cease, and watching as his breathing evened out. He was still awake after one episode, but quiet, calm, and Sungchan went ahead and played the next one.

You gently rubbed his back, smiling to yourself when you heard his first yawn of the night. When his second came before the five-minute mark, you knew he wouldn’t last the whole episode. And sure enough, he was out before the halfway point. Sungchan turned his phone off and set it aside. The two of you were curled up on either side of your son, with Sungchan facing him and you.

Your husband reached a hand up, and you thought he was going to stroke Woobin’s hair, but he kept going and gently wiped a thumb under your eye instead, at the fresh tears that had just brimmed there. You placed your hand over his, turning your head just enough to leave a kiss on his palm.

You woke up early in the morning with a stress migraine. When you shuffled into the kitchen to get a glass of water, the stove clock read 3:03. You quickly chugged your first glass of water, then refilled it to take back with you. Walking through to your bathroom, you retrieved your bottle of rescue medication from your drawer. This one was a muscle relaxer, so you didn’t see any point in keeping it in your purse, as you weren’t able to drive after taking it, which you typically needed to do when you were out and about. You knocked back a tablet before screwing the lid back on and putting it away again. After taking a few more sips of your water, you slipped back under the covers with your family.

Your head felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, but you still blearily opened one eye to look at your son, watching as his chest rose and fell peacefully. He was on his back now, and you couldn’t help but lay a hand on his front, feeling his even breaths under your palm. Sungchan’s foot tapped yours under the blanket briefly as he readjusted in his sleep, and you smiled to yourself. And then it happened again, and you peered over to the other pillow suspiciously.

In the low light, you could see Sungchan looking right at you. He pointed to his own head, then raised his eyebrows.

You lifted your hand in a ‘meh’ gesture, then held up 5 fingers to rate it out of 10, before setting your hand back down on Woobin’s front. Sungchan found your arm under the covers, gently squeezing your forearm. You tapped his foot in return, a silent exchange, before closing your eyes and settling back in to sleep.

Two hushed voices woke you up for the second time that morning. Well, one hushed voice, and one who hadn’t quite mastered whispering yet.

“What do you think Mommy—”

“Quiet, buddy, remember?” Sungchan’s words were barely discernible from behind the closed bathroom door. “Your mom’s got a migraine, and—”

“—and Mommy needs to sleep when she’s got a migraine,” Woobin finished dutifully, his voice a notch quieter than before. “So her head feels better.”

“That’s right, bud. Now come on, breakfast.”

“That’s what I—” Your son stopped himself as his voice raised with his excitement. He continued, in his best half-whisper, “Sorry, Daddy. I know: We gotta whisper. Quiet. I was asking what Mommy wants for breakfast?”

The two of them were quiet, and you heard the bathroom door open, then one pair of feet quietly tread across your room to open the bedroom, then shut it softly. You could hear their voices slowly fade as they walked further away.

“I don’t know. Why are you asking?”

“Because you always bring me breakfast in bed when I’m sick!” Woobin’s voice was back to it’s normal volume as he tried to emphatically get his point across to his dad. Sungchan must have gestured for him to quiet down again, as he dropped down to a part-whisper once more, “It’s Mommy’s turn.”

“You’re right. Let’s see what we can make…”

When you first got Woobin, you only got a migraine a couple times a year, a significant drop from when you were first diagnosed. The frequency fluctuated over the years and seasons, though, and there was a short period of time after becoming new parents, that you had been getting them weekly. You knew that put a strain on Sungchan, since a spouse with noise-sensitive migraines and a crying baby didn’t exactly mix. You of course would go through any migraine pain to take care of your son, but your husband couldn’t stand seeing you do it if it could be avoided. After some medication changes, you were fairly consistent with one every other month now. When Woobin was a toddler, and couldn’t quite grasp the concept of needing to play quietly when he wasn’t napping, Sungchan would take him on “field trips” while you rested. You’d decided to give him a simple explanation of a migraine to him when he was a little older, so he could easier differentiate between the migraines that you got, and when he might have a headache from a cold, or because his body was telling him he needed to drink some more water. He was also now your designated band-aid picker for your monthly injection, and had a better grasp on when, why, and how to keep quiet when you needed it.

Your head unfortunately still hurt, though your heart was warmed by your kind-hearted kid. There were lots of times where you and Sungchan felt like you had no clue what you were doing—like your current predicament with bedtime—but you figured you were doing a pretty alright job overall.

You contemplated getting up to take another dose. The only plans you had for today were a family trip to the park and some chores at home. Your husband would probably insist on you skipping the park for today, but if the second dose worked, you could probably get some things done around the house at least. Unfortunately, your days of laying in bed all day when you had a low-level migraine were long gone. If you could open your eyes, you usually had something that needed to get done.

But for this morning, at least, for now, you could close your eyes for just a little longer. You rolled over, away from the window where a thin strip of light had gotten in through a gap between your blackout curtains that Sungchan must have pulled closed.

You didn’t quite go back to sleep, but you dozed somewhere in between as you fondly listened to the sounds of Sungchan and Woobin trying to make breakfast as silently as possible. The running of the sink, sizzling of something on the stove, beep of the microwave before it was hastily shut off, fridge opening and closing, Sungchan’s quiet murmured directions to Woobin, and your son’s inquisitive tone in return.

Eventually, you heard someone shuffling up to your bedroom door, sounding much too small to be your husband. The door very slowly creaked open, and he tiptoed over to your side of the bed.

“Mommy?” His whisper had gotten better over the morning, though it didn’t matter much, since he was definitely right in front of your face.

You cracked open one eye, and offered him a soft smile. “Morning, buddy.”

“Are you awake?”

“Yeah, Binnie, I’m awake,” you chuckled, propping yourself up on one elbow and rubbing your eyes.

“Daddy and I made you breakfast, hold on!” And he darted back out of the room.

You looked at the empty doorway fondly, slowly pushing yourself up into a sitting position at the head of the bed. Sungchan and Woobin reappeared a moment later with a tray filled with various breakfast foods.

“Morning, beautiful,” Sungchan greeted you quietly, pecking the crown of your head as he went to set the tray down in your lap.

“Mm, morning, Channie,” you kissed his cheek before he could stand all the way back up. “This looks wonderful, thank you guys.”

In one corner of the tray you spotted a colorful assortment of pills, all of your morning doses plus what looked like a couple of your acute medications from your purse that was definitely in the dining room. You grabbed your water from the nightstand to get that out of the way first.

“We’ll let you eat in peace,” Sungchan declared, patting your son on the head to start to usher him out.

“No, it’s okay,” you stopped them. “It’s not so bad. I want you two to eat with me.”

Woobin’s face lit up, and he wasted no time in clambering up on the bed with you. You held the tray steady as he wedged himself in next to you.

“Alright, I’ll go get mine and buddy’s plates.”

Woobin was still earnestly pointing out each piece of food on your tray to you, explaining exactly how he had helped Sungchan prepare all of it when your husband returned. Sungchan sat down in front of you, and as he handed your son his plate, you noticed that there was nothing on it that could make too much of a mess if it happened to capsize.

“Sounds like you were a big help,” you praised your son, stroking the back of his head.

“He was,” Sungchan agreed. “Breakfast in bed was his idea.”

“Really?” You feigned surprise as Woobin nodded proudly. They didn’t need to know that you’d heard their entire bathroom conversation. “Thank you, sweet, it was a very good idea.”

After a very quiet breakfast, Sungchan took the plates into the kitchen, and you started making your mental list of tasks for the day. No vacuum—you weren’t a masochist—but there was laundry to do, and if Sungchan started the dishwasher before he left, it would be done and ready to put away before they got back from the park.

Just as you had put your feet over the edge of the bed to get up, with the bathroom as your destination, you were caught off-guard by Woobin trudging into your room with an armful of toys. He dropped them onto your mattress before hauling himself up after them.

“Hey…” You greeted him with an air of question. “What are you doing, Binnie?”

Sungchan must have spotted him on his way over, as he poked his head in right then, already laser-focused on your son. “What’s all this, bud?”

“We can’t go to the park,” he said matter-of-factly, beginning to sort out the toys that had gotten all mixed up in being carried over and dumped into a pile. “I’ll be quiet, promise!”

“I didn’t say we weren’t going at all,” Sungchan clarified. “I just said Mommy needed to stay home this time, because she’s not feeling well. You and I are still going. Minha and her dad are going to be there too.”

“I don’t want to go. I don’t like the park,” he declared, a stern pout creasing his face.

“What? You don’t like the park?” You asked.

“No,” he mumbled. “I hate it.”

You exchanged bewildered looks with Sungchan at this sudden development. Deciding to try again, you said calmly, “Binnie, I’ll go with you next time, okay? I promise. You have lots of fun at the park.”

“No. I don’t want to go.”

“Okay, no park,” Sungchan acquiesced. “But it’s such a nice day out, I think a walk sounds good. What do you think?”

“No.” He crossed his arms.

“Ah, you know, my head feels good enough for a walk,” you said brightly. “I think I’d like to go on a walk. Are you sure you don’t want to go, buddy?”

“Well… okay.”

“Alright,” you beamed at him, patting his cheek as he finally looked up at you. “Mommy’s got to shower then I’ll be ready to go.”

“How about you get out of your jammies too, Woobin?” Sungchan suggested.

“Go ahead, sweet,” you sent him off with one more pat.

Your son wordlessly got off the bed and left your room. As soon as he was gone, you look at Sungchan, utterly at a loss.

“What was that?” He whispered, following you into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you two.

“I don’t know,” you whispered back, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“He loves the park! I mean, he loves going to the grocery store! He’s one of the most go-with-the-flow kids I’ve ever met!”

“He was obviously lying about hating the park. But why? His best friend’s going to be there, he’s been talking about it since we planned it at pickup on Friday.”

“You think it’s related to what’s been going with bedtime and naptime?” Sungchan paced in front of you. “I mean, what if it’s like separation anxiety? Or something?”

“But he loves you.”

“I know, I know.”

“He even went through that phase when he was a year old where he wouldn’t let me put him to sleep, it had to be you every time.”

“I know, I know.” He held his hands up. “I’m just saying… we might have hit a new phase.”

“But I could at least take him to the park without you. And he went to daycare. Now…”

“Hey, tomorrow, I’ll drop him off at school,” Sungchan said. “You know, so it’ll be gradual. The two of us at home, then just me, then he’s at school.”

“Channie, he wouldn’t let you take him to the park today.”

“I just think that if your choice is between leaving him crying at VPK or not, you’re going to be getting a new little TA in your classes tomorrow.”

You chewed on your bottom lip before sighing and nodding. “You’re right, you’re right. Okay, we’ll try your way tomorrow.”

“We’ll figure this out, hon,” he reassured you, wrapping his arms around your waist and hooking his chin over your shoulder. “But not right now in our bathroom while you’ve got a migraine.”

You hugged him back, burying your face in his neck and taking a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s just worry about today right now.”

After your shower, you got dressed in peace and meandered out of your room to find Sungchan and Woobin by the front door. Woobin hadn’t quite mastered shoelaces, so your husband was helping him out. You slipped your own shoes on, and grabbed a pair of sunglasses on the table by the front door.

“Alright, ready?” Sungchan asked, having finished with your son’s shoes.

“Ready!” Binnie chirped.

You offered a thumbs-up, silently reaching to unlock your front door. Woobin went out first, eagerly bounding down the steps of your front porch. You followed after him onto the sidewalk as you listened to Sungchan lock up behind you, then catch up to the two of you with just a few large strides. The sun outside was painfully bright, even with your sunglasses on, and as you held up one hand to cast a shadow over your eyes, you reached your other out to grab Sungchan’s hand. He held yours firmly, even as you squinted and winced against the light, nearly missing a step when you walked in a brighter patch between shadows of trees, keeping you upright and on the paved path.

Woobin was just a couple steps in front of you, seemingly having a great time. He was talking to himself, interspersed with some singing, and of course pointing out anything he found remotely interesting to the both of you.

“Snail!” He yelled out enthusiastically, pointing to said small creature on the ground.

“Cool, buddy,” Sungchan responded encouragingly.

“Worm!”

“I see. Careful, we don’t want to step on him. He’s using the sidewalk too.”

That made Woobin giggle, giving the worm a wide berth as he stepped around it. You stepped over it.

The boy suddenly gasped, and stopped in his tracks as he pointed to a flower in one of your neighbors’ gardens. “Butterfly! Mommy, do you see it?”

You squinted in the direction he was pointing, finally seeing which one he was indicating. A dark butterfly on a bright yellow flower. “Yeah, Binnie, I see it. That’s a swallowtail butterfly.”

“Swallowtail butterfly,” he repeated, slowly to make sure he was pronouncing it right.

“That’s right.” You patted his head with your free hand.

“What other kinds of butterflies are there?” He asked as you continued your walk.

“Oh, lots,” you mused. “Your dad might know a butterfly expert, you know.”

He looked up at Sungchan with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Yeah, Dr. Hwang, one of my co-workers, she’s an entomologist.”

Your son furrowed his brows in concentration. “Entee— enah— innamolologiss.”

“Come on, let’s sound it out, bud: En,” Sungchan talked him through it. Despite his earlier teasing of you reading Breton lai to your son, your husband was just as much to blame for Woobin’s inflated vocabulary, always taking the time to teach him lengthy scientific terms for things.

“En.”

“Tah.”

“Tah.”

“Mol.”

“Mol.”

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

“Gist.”

“Gist.”

“Entah.”

“Entah.”

“Molo.”

“Molo.”

“Gist.”

“Gist.”

“Entomologist.”

“Enamolgist.”

“Yeah!” Your husband beamed, holding up his hand for a high five.

“What’s an enamolgist?” Woobin asked.

“A scientist that studies bugs. Like butterflies.”

“Butterflies aren’t bugs!” He insisted.

“They are.”

“But how can they be bugs? They’re butterflies!”

Sungchan laughed. “When you meet Dr. Hwang, you can ask her and she’ll explain it. She can also tell you all about all sorts of butterflies. Okay?”

“Your dad studies fish, remember?” You added. “Way different than bugs and butterflies.”

“And you study books!” Woobin said. “And stories! And reading! And writing!”

“That’s right.” You chuckled fondly. “Way, way different than bugs or butterflies or fish.”

By the time you got back to your house, you could barely open one eye enough to navigate the steps and get through the front door. It felt like you were being stabbed in your left eye, the pain shooting back through the entire left side of your head, and you patted Sungchan’s arm before wordlessly heading off towards your room. You beelined for your bathroom, knocking back another dose of the rescue medication you had in there.

As you clutched your eye with one hand and gripped the bathroom counter tightly with the other, the door was pushed ajar. You quickly went to drop your hand and throw on a smile, then saw it was Sungchan, who put another tablet into your hand, your second rescue medication in the dining room.

“Thanks, baby,” you mumbled, taking that one as well.

He sighed, but said nothing else as he rested a hand on your back. You covered both of your eyes as you turned into his chest, feeling when your fingers quickly turned moist. You took deep, shaking, quiet breaths. One of Sungchan’s hands cradled the back of your head while the other slowly rubbed up and down your back.

“Eye mask?” He murmured, referring to the cooling eye mask you kept in the fridge to help with migraine pain. It could also be microwaved if you wanted it warm instead.

“What’s Binnie doing?” You sniffed.

“Picking a movie for me and him. You’re going to lay down. Do you want your eye mask?”

“Yes, please.”

And so Sungchan grabbed the mask from the fridge for you as you crawled back into bed, handing you your earplugs from your nightstand drawer first.

You tried to refuse, eyes drifting towards your bedroom door. “No, but—”

“I’ve got him, hon.” He opened the case and pushed the earplugs into your hand. “You’ve done plenty, Supermom. Okay?”

You nodded slowly, pushing the earplugs in one at a time. He helped you adjust the eye mask, then pulled the covers up over you. You felt as he stood up from the bed and gave one final pat to your arm.

You woke up to find that the medication and nap had taken the edge off the migraine, at least. There was still a dull ache in your head, and you felt like shit, but it wasn’t the worst that you’d ever felt. You pulled the room-temperature mask off your face and set it on your nightstand before rolling over, fully intending on burying your face in your pillow and going back to sleep if you could.

You weren’t expecting to see Sungchan lying next to you on top of the covers, hand tucked under his cheek. His eyes were open, watching you.

“Hi, Channie,” you said quietly, taking your earplugs out and setting those aside as well.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, voice barely above a murmur.

“I’m alright. Still hurts, but not as bad,” you replied, reaching a hand out towards him. He grasped it, gentle but steadfast. “Where’s Binnie? Down for his nap?”

“Snacktime. I called in backup, though, my dad’s here.”

“I’m—” You stopped yourself before you could apologize, biting down on your lip before mustering up a smile. “Thank you. For taking care of me and buddy today. More than you usually do.”

“I wish I could’ve done more for you, baby,” he sighed, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

“You were making sure our son was okay. He can’t use the microwave, I can manage my ten-thousandth migraine on my own.”

“But you shouldn’t have to.”

“It’s not your fault,” you insisted. “You’ve been Superdad and Superhusband today. So relax, okay?”

“Alright.”

“How long is your dad staying?”

“He brought ingredients to make dinner. My mom’s coming when she gets off her shift.”

You smiled fondly at your in-laws’ kindness, and lifted the blankets up. “Five more minutes?”

Sungchan joined you under the covers, immediately wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck. You held him close, savoring his familiar warmth and the comforting pressure of him laying practically on top of you. You curled your fingers in his hair, resting your cheek against the crown of his head.

“Ten,” he mumbled against your skin. “Ten more minutes.”

“Hey Professor, mind if we hang out in here?” A familiar pair of heads had poked into your office, two freshmen Raptors players who definitely weren’t in any of your classes this semester.

“Is there somewhere you should be?” You asked, gesturing to the couch across from you nevertheless. It made no difference to you if two adults decided to skip their college classes, you were more-so just curious. “It’s a bit early to be getting to campus if you don’t have a class…”

“Well, we usually have Coach Jung’s class right now, but he just sent out an email cancelling,” the left wing explained, dropping into one corner as his friend splayed out across the remaining two-thirds.

“And our next class is in this building, so we thought we’d see if you were in,” the right wing finished.

“What class do you have in this building?” You tried to keep a casual tone as you checked your phone for any missed calls or text from Sungchan that would clue you into why he’s suddenly missed his class this morning.

As they proceeded to rant about the 2000-level Grammar class they had signed up for in order to fulfill their Gen Ed requirements, mistakenly thinking it would be easy since it was only a 2000-level, you sent a quick text to your husband.

[you: just checking in. did drop-off go okay?]

Woobin once again slept in yours and Sungchan’s room last night, and though he was a little confused at his dad taking him to school today since you usually dropped him off on Mondays, there was no meltdown when you gave him his goodbye kiss. So far so good, until now.

“What classes are you teaching in the fall, Professor?” The left wing asked you.

“Oh, uh, I’ve got Lit Theory, Direct Study, and I’m teaching a Special Topics section in Contemporary Short Stories. We’ll mostly be focusing on magical realism, surrealism, that sort of thing,” you started rambling, still half-focused on your dark phone screen, waiting for it to light up with Sungchan’s reply. “I know neither of you are Lang majors, but it’s my first Special Topics class and I enjoyed having both of you last semester, so if you have a free slot in the fall, I’d appreciate it if you considered enrolling.”

“Hell yeah, that sounds cool,” the right wing grinned. “Is it going to be like, a bunch of essays, though?”

“There will be a final paper, but it will be mostly Socratic discussion, and the occasional short, one-page synthesis assignment,” you clarified. “No tests, no quizzes. As long as you read and participate enthusiastically, you’ll pass.”

“We’ll be there!” The left wing promised. “We loved your intro class. You’re like, one of the coolest professors ever, that’s why we asked.”

“I’m honored, boys, thanks,” you laughed.

“Coach Jung is cool too,” said the right wing, then he exchanged a mischievous grin with his friend. “But you’re cooler.”

“Oh, I’ve known that for quite some time, I assure you.”

“How long have you two been together?” The left wing asked curiously.

You twisted your wedding ring contemplatively. “Let’s see… We’ve been married for seven years, we started dating our senior year of undergrad, so… fifteen years? Yeah, it’ll be fifteen years this fall.”

“Wow. I didn’t even think you were that old.”

“What? Fifteen?” You chuckled, eyes straying to the picture on your desk of you, Sungchan, and Woobin from the party you held to celebrate his adoption being finalized.

“I mean, like, old enough to have been in college fifteen years ago.”

“Surprise.”

“So you met in senior year—”

“No,” you shook your head. “That’s when we started dating. We met freshman year. First day of classes, actually, if I’m remembering correctly. In one of Dr. Son’s classes, so that tells you how long he’s been teaching.”

“Wow, he needs to retire,” the right wing snorted. “And I mean that with his best intentions at heart.”

“Why are you two so interested in me and Coach Jung all of a sudden?” You questioned, tilting your head and folding your hands over your lap.

“Well, we see you and Coach Jung and our MVP all the time but, you know, we don’t know a lot about you, outside your jobs,” the left wing shrugged. “You two seem cool, you know?”

You couldn’t help but laugh again. “Where are you guys from?”

As they informed you that they were both from the same small town about five hours away, you nodded in understanding. Freshmen that hadn’t seen their parents since the holidays, a break that was only made even shorter by their being on the hockey team.

“You two are more than welcome to pop into my office whenever you happen to see me in here,” you reassured them. “And talk to me about whatever you want.”

By the time the players had left to go to class, you still hadn’t heard back from Sungchan, and you had your own class to teach. It was your Direct Study, which usually met in your office anyway since it was just two students. The conversation in this one was student-led, so as they evaluated what they thought the developing themes in the book were, bouncing ideas off each other, you tried to listen and engage earnestly, even as you stayed painfully aware of the lack of response from your husband.

You never forced them to stay for the entire block of time allotted for the class if the conversation didn’t need it, so when they were about done only forty-five minutes into the hour and a half block, you gave them the next chunk of the reading to do before next week, and bid them farewell. Then immediately left your office.

The Science building was across from the Lang building, and you headed for Sungchan's office first. If he was teaching a class right now, you knew it would be an Intro class and, therefore, most likely in one of the large lecture halls on the first floor, but you weren’t going to interrupt his lecture because he hadn’t replied to your message. You just wanted to check to see if he'd made it to campus yet. His office was on the second floor, past some of the teaching laboratories.

When you tested the door handle, you found it unlocked, and pushed it open. His desk lamp was on, illuminating the pictures he had there: one from your wedding day, another of the three of you from a hockey game, decked out in blue and orange Raptors gear, and a third of just you and Woobin from when he was a baby, the exact occasion you couldn’t pin down. He wasn’t in the office, but his backpack was on his desk chair, so he had at least made it to campus.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you looked to see that it was Sungchan calling.

“Hey, Channie,” you answered.

“Hi, hon,” he sounded a little out of breath. “Where are you?”

“Uhm, I’m actually at your office. I got worried…” You admitted.

“Oh, okay. We went to your office but couldn’t find you. Stay put, we’ll come to you.”

“Okay—Wait, ‘we?’”

“Yeah, uh, buddy’s with me,” he sighed shortly. “We'll be there in just a sec, okay? Bye, love you.”

And he hung up.

When Sungchan’s office door opened a few minutes later, Woobin was, in fact, the first thing that came through, immediately running to wrap his arms around your legs. Sungchan stepped through the door a moment later, looking disheveled as he took your son’s small backpack off his shoulder and put it on one of the chairs across from his desk.

“Hey, Binnie,” you greeted your son brightly, despite your alarm and confusion, hugging him back tightly. The harrowed look on Sungchan’s face was enough to let you know that this was something for you two to talk about later.

“Mommy!” Woobin was practically buzzing with excitement. “Mommy, guess what!”

“What, buddy?”

“Daddy said I can meet an enamolgist today!”

“Wow! That’s awesome,” you patted his head. “Did he say when Dr. Hwang was available?”

“I was just about to call her,” Sungchan answered. “We wanted to find you first, hon.”

“I saw some cool posters in the hall, Binnie,” you let go of your son and offered him your hand. “Let’s go look at those while your dad makes his call, okay?”

“Okay!” He took your hand and let you guide him out into the hall, shutting the office door behind you.

The first one you found was a diagram of a wetland ecosystem, taller than your head, and spanned the entire wall between two offices.

“I can’t see it,” Woobin craned his neck to look at the poster. “Can you pick me up, please?”

You hoisted him up by his underarms and onto your hip. “Is that better?”

“Thank you!” He then pointed to an animal. “What’s that?”

“Here, it’s labeled. Do you see?” You showed him the black line connecting the animal to its common name and scientific name. “Can you read that first one?”

“Spotted… sal… uh… man… der?”

“Spotted salamander, good!” You confirmed.

“So this one is a…” he pointed to another animal, following the line to its name. “Green… ana… con… da. Green anaconda!”

“That’s right, Binnie.”

The two of you were still on that same poster sounding out animal names, when Sungchan poked his head out from his office just a few doors down. Woobin was in the middle of a name, so you indicated to your husband to wait a moment before listening to the boy continue to sound it out. Sungchan walked over to join the two of you as Woobin had just finished his first attempt at the bird’s name.

“That was a good guess, it does look like the words ‘her’ and ‘on,’” you said. “But the animal is pronounced heron.”

“Hair-in,” he echoed slowly.

“You got it. Can you put it together now?”

“Great blue heron.”

“Good job, buddy,” Sungchan praised him.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Hi, buddy.”

“Did you get a hold of Dr. Hwang?” You asked.

“Yes, she’s in her office right now and has some spare time.”

“Yay!” Your son cheered, starting to wriggle out of your grip.

The three of you trekked to the third floor to get to Dr. Hwang’s office. Dr. Hwang was an older woman who welcomed you in warmly.

“Daddy says butterflies are bugs,” Woobin said very seriously. “Is that true?”

Dr. Hwang looked at Sungchan very judgmentally, before turning her attention down to your son. “Butterflies are insects, yes.”

“But how? They’re butterflies!”

“They’re just one kind of insect,” she explained patiently. “What’s your favorite fruit?”

“Mm… Grapes!”

“Are grapes fruit?”

“Well, yeah.”

“And fruit is food, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Grapes are a type of fruit, and fruits are a type of food. Does that make sense so far?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s the same thing with butterflies. Butterflies are a type of insect, and insects are a type of animal.”

He seemed to think very hard about this for a moment, then nodded satisfactorily. “How many kinds of butterflies are there?”

“There are about 180,000 different species of butterflies and moths. That we know about.”

His eyes practically bulged out of his head. “Woah…”

“Would you like to see some?”

“Can I?” He then looked back at you and Sungchan. “Please? Can I?”

“Of course, buddy,” Sungchan smiled, then looked up at his colleague. “If it’s alright with you, Dr. Hwang, my wife and I are going to step out for a moment.”

She waved you off. “Of course, go ahead.”

“Thank you,” you nodded to her gratefully. Patting your son’s head, you informed him, “Daddy and I will be right back, buddy.”

As Dr. Hwang directed Woobin’s attention to a book, you and Sungchan stepped out into the hall, shutting the door behind you quietly.

“What happened?” You asked him fervently.

Sungchan pulled you a little further down the hall, keeping his voice low when he finally spoke. “He was doing fine until we got into his classroom. Got his arms around my neck, wouldn’t let go… Kid’s strong for a five-year-old.”

“Two of your students ended up in my office after you cancelled class.”

“Yeah, I stayed for the first thirty minutes, to try to ease him into it, but then when I tried to leave again, the same thing happened except worse… Kept asking for you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It was too much of a distraction, we had to leave. He didn’t stop crying until I told him we were going to see you.”

You nodded in understanding, not upset with Sungchan in the slightest. If you’d been in his position, you probably would’ve done the same thing, if not, gave in even sooner.

“Do you think…” You bit the inside of your cheek. “Do you think we should take him to see someone? See if it’s a phase or… something more serious? I mean, even if it is a phase, he’s clearly getting really upset about something…”

“Yeah, I think that’d be a good idea,” Sungchan agreed.

Dr. Kwon Hayoung was a younger woman, definitely no older than yourself and Sungchan if you had to guess, her posture relaxed as she sat in her mustard yellow armchair. Her entire office was colorful, filled with various toys, whimsical artworks, and plush, patterned pillows on the couch that you were currently sitting on with your husband. After lots of research, various recommendations from friends and colleagues at work, and an entire two weeks of Woobin being attached at the hip to one of the two of you, you had finally settled on taking him to Dr. Kwon. After an initial interview with all three of you, then just you and Sungchan (a task that was aided by the fact that Sungchan’s father had come along and occupied him in the meantime), she then evaluated your son, which required several breaks for him to see you. But finally, she had finished with him, and he went back to play with his grandpa while Dr. Kwon brought you and Sungchan back once again.

“There is nothing serious for us to be concerned about,” Dr. Kwon declared, her tone calm.

You and Sungchan exchanged an uncertain look. You cleared your throat, “Uhm…”

“I don’t mean to downplay the problems that your family is facing right now,” the child psychologist promised, readjusting her lavender purple frames on the bridge of her nose. “However, Woobin is developing typically for kids his age, which is good news.”

“Then why is he…?” Sungchan trailed off, his question obvious. Why is he doing all of this? So suddenly?

“You have been very open about him being adopted.”

“Yeah, we never wanted to hide it from him,” you said. “He even gets two parties every year, his birthday party, and we celebrate the day his adoption went through.”

“But he knows that he’s our son and we love him,” Sungchan added, shifting forward as his voice carried a slight edge to it.

“Of course, of course he knows that.” Dr. Kwon’s tone hadn’t lost any of the gentle kindness she began the conversation with. “Both you and he told me about another kid, in his class, who was not so understanding.”

“Yeah, it made buddy a little upset, but he seemed fine by the next day.”

“I do think he was fine. Until he had a recent dream, about falling asleep in his bed and waking up in someone else’s home,” she informed you, and you felt a harsh twinge in your chest as you realized that your son hadn’t even told you about that. “He’s not afraid that you two will give him away so much as he’s afraid that somebody will come take him from you.”

“Oh…” You breathed out, feeling yourself grimace as you thought about how scared your son must have felt since then.

Sungchan reached over to hold one of your hands. “What can we do? What are our options?”

“We can work on his anxiety, coping skills, attachment in sessions. Since it’s affected your daily lives as a family so much, I recommend starting at three times a week, and we can adjust from there. I would like both of you to attend as many as possible.”

“Of course,” you nodded quickly, squeezing Sungchan’s hand tight.

That night, after helping Woobin brush his teeth with his toothbrush and toothpaste that had migrated into your bathroom, you took your nighttime medication, then tucked it back away into the childproofed medicine cabinet. Sungchan was doing some late-night grading in your home office, but you had a five-year-old to put to bed on time, so you had started on that without him.

Woobin clambered up into his place in the middle of the mattress first, and you lifted up the comforter and blankets to slip in next to him. With the thoughts of his nightmare still weighing heavily on your heart, you called out to him quietly, “Binnie? Can Mommy cuddle with you?”

“Of course, Mommy!” He chirped, immediately taking it upon himself to scramble over to you under the covers and wrap himself around your middle like a koala.

You laughed, enveloping him in your arms to hold him to you even tighter. Pressing a long kiss to the top of his head, you then tucked him under your chin. Yeah, this was exactly what you needed. You had his next appointments set up with Dr. Kwon, and she hadn’t told you to change anything you were doing yet. So tomorrow you’d continue your new routine of bringing your son to campus with you and passing him between you and Sungchan—usually whoever was in office hours had him, or if you were both in a class, whoever had the smaller class. You had tried dropping him off at your parents’ house once, but as soon as he realized that you were leaving without him, he wouldn’t let go of your leg, his eyes started watering, and you immediately folded. Preschool was a no-go, as he had a soft, indefinite ban for the foreseeable future until he was no longer going to be a disruption. They were continuing to hold his spot at no charge to you, at least. It had been stressful, and there hadn’t been very long stretches of time in the past two weeks where you had been apart from him, but there wasn’t once where you ever felt resentful towards your son himself, you realized. He’s what you did this all for.

“I love you, Binnie,” you murmured, kissing his hair again. “Love you so much.”

“I love you so much too, Mommy,” Woobin mumbled back sleepily, his words punctuated by a yawn.

You smiled fondly, listening as the sounds of his breathing evened out as he drifted off to sleep. Not much later, and your bedroom door slowly creaked open. Sungchan quietly went about his own nighttime routine before finally shutting the bathroom light off and closing the door behind him. You were a little confused when he walked over to your side of the bed, though, thinking your son’s sippy cup that was sitting there might’ve needed a last-minute refill. Then you felt him raise the sheets and start squeezing himself in behind you.

“You’re going to fall off, Channie,” you whispered, trying to bite back the giggles bubbling up in your chest.

“Then make some room, baby,” he responded, his quiet words even more hushed by the fact that he was pressing his face into your shoulder as he readjusted.

You gently scooted further in on the bed, trying to jostle the child attached to you as little as possible, not wanting to wake him so soon after he’d fallen asleep—if he woke up now, he’d definitely be awake for another three hours at least. Sungchan scooched with you, molding himself around you after you’d gotten settled in again, and burying his face in the back of your neck. He slung an arm over your waist, his hand finding one of yours where it was resting on Woobin’s back, slotting his fingers with yours.

After some time, when you were sure your son was deep asleep, Sungchan spoke again, “I had a student ask me what death of the author is.”

You craned your neck to try to look at his face out of the corner of your eye. “In your bio class?”

“Yeah, I thought it was weird too.”

“Are they… in one of my classes? And thought that you would know because we’re married? And knew that we’re married?” Obviously there were pictures of you, Sungchan, and your son in his office, but since classrooms and labs were shared spaces at the university, professors didn’t decorate or keep personal belongings in there. The average Intro to Bio student wouldn’t have any reason to know that you and Sungchan were married just from attending lecture.

“That was my first thought, too. Turns out he had you last semester.”

You scrunched your nose in confusion. “Then why…?”

“Apparently, in your class, he met this cute Lang major, but she didn’t seem too impressed with him. Thinks he’s a dumb jock.” Sungchan’s chest vibrated with his chuckle.

“Because he doesn’t know what death of the author is? Is he failing your bio class, perchance?”

“No.”

“Did she actually tell him she thought he was a dumb jock, or is he just assuming?” You asked pointedly.

“He seemed pretty convinced.” Your husband grinned and nudged you with his shoulder. “Sound familiar?”

“What are you—Oh my god, you think that sounds like us?” You rolled your eyes. “I did not think you were a dumb jock! I just… didn’t think about you really at all.”

“Ouch.” His pout was still very visible in the dim light of your bedroom.

“Not my fault you opted to pine for three years like a loser instead of talking to me.”

“Words hurt, you know.”

You shook your head. “So were you able to tell him what death of the author is?”

“No. But he’s apparently trying to read along from your Brit Lit I syllabus.”

“So that’s why you knew Bisclavret the other day. He won’t get very far on his own, even translated, Old English can be pretty awkward to get through,” you warned.

“Yeah… So do you have any study guides?” He batted his eyelashes at you, and you once again rolled your eyes.

“Seriously? You should tell him to talk to her like a person. He won’t get anywhere if he’s constantly thinking of both of them one-dimensionally. Him as the dumb jock, and her as the smart Lang major,” you scoffed. “Sound familiar?”

“That’s a no on the study guide?”

“The Internet exists. And you didn’t get me by making me swoon over your knowledge of Breton lais.”

“True.” He clicked his tongue in the back of his mouth. “I’ll ask him if she has any chronic illnesses to tend to.”

“You didn’t stay with me during the Halloween party as some elaborate scheme to get me to date you. At that point, you still thought you were friendzoned. If my memory serves me.” You pointed out.

He yawned and nuzzled his cheek against your shoulder. “Perhaps…”

“You stayed with me because you’re a good, sweet guy, always have been,” you continued, taking your hand that he had been holding back to reach behind you and poke his leg. “That’s how you got me.”

“Aw, you still know how to my heart flutter, baby. Even after fifteen years.”

You smiled to yourself as he kissed your shoulder. “Yeah, you’re easy.”

“And still know how to wound me with so few words.”

“I love you, too, Channie,” you chuckled softly, taking his hand again under the covers.

“Only this easy for my girl.” He murmured, dropping another kiss to your shoulder. “Love of my life.” Another kiss, this one on your cheek. “Can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together.”

“We’re already married,” you said humorously, wiggling your entwined left hands pointedly.

“So? I can only talk about spending the rest of our lives together before we sign the marriage papers? Can’t do it while we’re actually living that life together and raising our son?”

“Well when you put it like that…” You turned your head to catch his lips with yours in a soft, sweet kiss.

Sungchan hummed into the kiss, pecking the corner of your mouth when you pulled away.

“I love you, my Sungchannie,” you professed as you’d done thousands of times before, each time thinking that you could never be more in love with this man than you were in that moment, and yet each time it felt like your love had only grown exponentially since the last time you said it.

“I love you too. My girl,” he replied, resting his forehead against yours. You didn’t need him to speak to know what he was thinking. The two of you were going to get through this. Even though right now, you don’t know exactly how, you would.

➠ series masterlist | blog masterlist

[airaibunny]

miyeon x reader - “the idea of her” (warnings: fluff, kissing, nudity)

a/n: BLONDE MIYEON APPRECIATION! this is literally an adaptation of a chapter story i had in my notes app😭 i haven’t the slightest clue if miyeon can drive, but pretend she can. i also do not know how gidle’s dorm situation works, once again, just pretend i’m right.

IM SORRY FOR LYING, I KNOW I SAID I WOULD WRITE THE ‘DO NOT TOUCH’ MINA SMUT NEXT, BUT THIS JUST POPPED INTO MY HEAD AND I HAD TO.

anyway, hope you enjoy pooks😭

word count: 1.3k

"y/n."

"y/n!"

"Y/N?!"

you barely register yuqi calling you as you’re zoning out. you’re at a fansign and should be paying attention to the fans, but you just can’t help being completely enraptured with her.

everything from her gorgeous blonde hair to the way her eyes squint when she smiles has you completely smitten. you’ve been in the same group for years and you’ve felt this way from the very beginning. you’re sure nobody can notice how you feel though, or at least you hope so for the sake of your career. if you’re wrong, cho miyeon might be the reason for your untimely expulsion.

"y/n? are you there? we’re leaving." yuqi waves a hand in front of your face and pulls you out of your chair before you can react. you finally notice everyone packing up around you. maybe you zoned out a bit too hard.

"oh, okay." you simply follow yuqi as she pulls your hand and walks you to the car. the entire way there you’re looking around for miyeon, but she’s nowhere to be seen. once you get to the car, yuqi practically throws you inside and you bump into shuhua.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” of course shuhua being shuhua starts yelling and whining at you. “I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING, YUQI THREW ME!” shuhua shifts her anger towards yuqi, shouting at her instead.

“oh sorry, i didn’t realize i was in your way, BITCH!" she rubs her arm where you bumped into her and then does the same to you. "you’re the bitch, STOP YELLING!" shuhua stops rubbing your arm and fully turns to the passenger seat where yuqi is. “how the fuck are you going to tell me to stop yelling WHILE YOU’RE YELLING?!”

just as shuhua is finishing her sentence, miyeon gets in the drivers seat of the car.

“oh my god, both of you shut up. i can hear you from outside.”

she isn’t even talking to you, but you halt your breathing unconsciously. fuck, how is she so devine? you’re sitting in the backseat opposite to the drivers seat, so you have a perfect view of her.

“minnie and soyeon are driving back in the other car, does anyone want to switch cars to even it out?”

yuqi immediately storms out of the car and slams the door behind her. shuhua scoffs in response. them arguing is normal, you’re sure they’ll be completely fine as soon as you get home.

“now i feel lonely, someone come sit up here.” shuhua doesn’t react, so you’re guessing she doesn’t want to move. you take advantage of the opportunity and go sit bedside miyeon. she smiles when you sit and your eyes widen, she’s just so incredible.

once you’re on the road, you put headphones in and sneakily stare a miyeon every now and then. a few more minutes into the drive, you feel her hand land on your thigh. you tense at the feeling, but continue facing forward. you all have little to no boundaries with each other, miyeon doing this is not new. nevertheless, her touch quickens your heartbeat immensely.

you fiercely wish you could tell her how you feel. she’s never explicitly told you she doesn’t like girls, so a relationship with her is plausible. be that as it may, you have no clue if she likes you.

you finally arrive at the dorms and follow miyeon around while she grabs things from the trunk and walks upstairs. you practically attach yourself to her every chance you get.

you walk through the front door and flop down on the couch, watching as miyeon walks around trying to tidy things up before bed. you don’t realize that you’re dozing off until someone pats your upper back, softly whispering to you.

“hey, let’s go to bed.”

you slightly open your eyes to see miyeon kneeling in front of your face, smiling at you. you stand and she takes your hand, holding it all the way to her room. you’re hesitant to go in because you don’t normally sleep with miyeon, you share a room with shuhua.

“oh, right. yuqi and shuhua are over their little fight as usual so yuqi went to sleep in your room, they kind of kicked you out.”

“oh.”

you try hiding your excitement as you completely walk into the room. this doesn’t happen often, but you love when it does. you delight in falling asleep next to miyeon, even if she’s in a completely different bed.

“oh shit, i didn’t think to grab your pijamas before they fell asleep. you can just wear mine.”

she picks random clothes from her closet and hands them to you. she also picks some for herself and begins undressing. you get extremely flustered. even after all this time changing together for music shows and photo shoots and whatnot, you still can’t handle seeing her naked. when it’s any of the others, you’re not fazed at all, it’s only her.

she finishes changing and looks your way, rolling her eyes. “change! i don’t want you to fall asleep in those clothes.” she walks outside to do something and leaves you alone in the room. you try changing, but fall back on the bed instead. you’re so tired, you start to doze off again.

you fall asleep and awake a few minutes later to miyeon pulling your shirt off. you nearly die in that instant.

holy fuck.

“i told you to change.”

she completely takes your shirt off and throws it aside, turning back to you. her face is centimeters away from yours. so close that one rough move would make your lips touch.

you feel a sudden rush of adrenaline and lean into her without thinking. you immediately pull back, slapping a hand over your lips.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to.”

she’s frozen for a few seconds. you curse yourself as you feel tears forming in your eyes. why would you do that? that was so reckless. what if you just ruined your friendship with her?

“miyeon, i’m so sorry.”

she puts a hand on your cheek, bringing you in for a kiss. you swear you can feel every single thing on your mind fade away. the only feeling you’re aware of in this moment is her lips on yours. they’re warm and soft, just like you imagined.

“don’t apologize.”

she whispers against you lips with a smile. you pull her back in, deepening the kiss. you know it’s cliché, but you wish you could stay here forever. you part her lips with your tongue, gently pushing it inside her mouth. she giggles at your excitement, letting you take control of the kiss.

“how long have you been holding that in?”

she taunts as she pulls away, placing her hand on your thigh. “i don’t know.” she chuckles at you. “wanna know how long i’ve been holding it in?” your cheeks redden at her question. she’s liked you this entire time. why didn’t you do something sooner?!

“a very long time.” she leans in for another quick kiss before completely laying down on the bed. “finish changing and come cuddle with me.” you hop up and tear all of your clothes off, putting on your pijamas as quickly as you can.

“you’re so cute.” you hear her remark as you’re struggling to put your shorts on. as soon as you’re done, you jump back into bed, wrapping around her like a sloth. you plant kisses all over her face as she smiles, you just can’t contain yourself. you can’t fathom that she actually likes you. the girl you’ve been completely whipped for all this time actually likes you.

she pushes your hair out of you face, running her fingers through it.

“miyeon?” you ask while looking into her eyes. “yes?” she responds, still playing with your hair. “what are we now?” she kisses you again, bringing you closer to her chest.

“whatever you want us to be, pretty girl.”

[scretladyspider]

I want to talk about the definition of demisexuality and why I think in an allocentric world it leads to misunderstandings like this.

Quoted by Cluffalo tweet is about demisexuality. Tweet reads: “Can we stop making everything into an “orientation"?This is normal, healthy, female sexualityWanting to immediately sleep with someone because they're hot is not the default for women.”

Okay, so… demisexuality is “not experiencing sexual attraction unless a close bond is formed”. It was invented over a few years of discussions on AVEN forums about a sort of in-between ace experience, between asexual and allosexual. Graysexual came about around the same time.

The most common criticisms of demisexuality include that it was invented for a role play, that it’s “just normal”, that it’s “just how women are”, or that its especially puritan, assigning superiority to not liking or not having casual sex. And while all of these are worth a deep dive… I want to talk about how we define demisexuality, and why I think it’s both helpful but also leaves some pretty big holes in understanding that leads to posts like that original tweet.

When you’re explaining anything under the asexual spectrum, you generally have to assume that they’ve never heard of asexuality. It doesn’t matter if they are or aren’t ace and don’t know it when we’re told our whole lives that asexuality isn’t a possibility. As much as I don’t want to center the allosexual experience when discussing demisexuality (or anything ace), and I really, really don’t, it ends up being the inevitable reference point when talking about anything ace.

Actually, really understanding the definition of demisexuality requires understanding and accepting asexuality, the asexual spectrum, action not necessarily equating with attraction, arousal VS attraction, libido, and unpacking what we’re taught sexuality is or could be. Demisexuality requires all kinds of knowledge about asexuality to even begin to understand that there IS a difference between waiting to have sex with your partner and not experiencing any sexual attraction at all, to anyone, ever, until and unless a close bond forms, IF then.

The way the “no sexual attraction until a close bond is formed” definition of demisexuality is set up currently sounds like it’s describing building trust with someone before engaging in sex from an allosexual perspective.

In my experience, people can more easily accept that some people don’t experience sexual attraction than they can that some people might experience it, maybe, under select circumstances. That takes more unpacking allonormativity and amatanormativity.

But if you know about and understand asexuality, it’s not difficult to go from the “little to no sexual attraction” that we usually think of as “no sexual attraction” when we talk about asexuality to understanding where and how the “little to” specifically comes into that.

However! If you know what asexuality is, then the definition of demisexuality as we currently write it, as in the OP’s post, is perfectly adequate and can even be liberating, especially if you’ve been trying to figure out why you usually but don’t *always fit into “no sexual attraction”.

I’m tired of explaining over and over the same thing, trying to find new ways to do that. If I can be vulnerable a second, a lot of the time it feels pointless, like, “why am I even doing this?”

And I’m sure I’m not the only person talking about asexuality that feels that way.

Also a lot of the “demisexuality is just being a woman” narrative typically overlaps with transphobia, and folks who say this tend to attribute who they’re referring to as “just being a woman” to whiteness, which again circles everything back to purity culture.

I haven’t yet found a way to explain demisexuality without basically writing a book. Tbh I don’t know that there is a way to briefly and adequately explain demisexuality, as it rests on understanding asexuality, which I know from experience I can’t just assume is the audience. And I don’t really have any solutions or answers to this. I don’t have a new and quick demisexuality definition ready to go. As is, if you understand asexuality, it’s fine, but if you don’t, it’s like… yeah, I understand why people get confused. I used to too. Demisexuality is a real thing. But I am frustrated and tired by how it takes a PowerPoint or dissertation to explain— not just for myself, but any demisexual, because there’s so much around it you have to explain first.

So… those are just some thoughts. I don’t have a solution? I’ve been just thinking about all this for… a long time actually. I wish more people knew about and understood asexuality. it would help. Not just with this, but, this would be something it helped with.

But, yeah! Those were thoughts. I don’t know how to end this thread. Uhm. Okay bye thanks for reading have a nice day

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[tumbleweed-writes]

Deserving: Chibs Telford X Reader

Y/N was horrified. She couldn’t believe Jax was not out there searching high and low for her boyfriend.

The night had been long and so filled with dread.

It had all started out so normally. Nero, Lyla and Y/N had been the only ones working up at Diosa. Y/N had been training Lyla on some of the facets of her job at the companion service. Lyla was interested in coming to work for Diosa, helping Nero manage the girls and the office.

Y/N was thankful for the possible new hire. She’d been doing this on her own for a while now, and it was so time consuming that it was not even funny.

Nero’s sister Carla was not always the most helpful. She usually favored managing the girls and was less interested in helping with any clerical work.

That responsibility always fell on Y/N.

When Frankie Diamonds had shown up the energy in the room had shifted.

When the gun had come out it had been clear that Nero, Lyla, and Y/N were in danger.

Jax, Bobby, and Chibs had no idea what they were walking into.

Nero had been tied up. Frankie had taped her wrists and ankles together too tightly bound against the sofa.

Y/N stared up at Chibs, the bile rising in her stomach, she resisted the urge to attempt to yank from her bonds and run to him for protection. Frankie currently had a gun tucked into Lyla’s mouth and his hand on the trigger.

He’d pointed the gun in Y/N’s direction more than once over hte past hour. She felt sick thinking that he could easily pull the trigger and end them all at any moment.

Y/N feared any sudden movement from her would spook the man enough that he’d do just that. He seemed panicked and unpredictable. She feared just what he was capable of. 

He’d forced Nero to call the Sons and Y/N feared what he wanted with them. 

She watched helplessly as Frankie screamed out orders. “Guns and knives, drop them to the floor. Now.”

Jax spoke tying to remain calm. “Okay. We’re doing it.”

Jax spoke again holdling his hands out to Frankie. “Listen, they have nothing to do with this…”

Frankie spoke interrupting him. “Shut up and get down on your knees. Put your hands behind your heads.”

Bobby dared to speak stepping forward slightly. “What the hell is this?”

Frankie spoke his voice harsh. “What do you think? I want money. The cartel cash I know you got it in a safe in the chapel”

Jax spoke as Chibs, Bobby, and he did as they were ordered. “We aint a bank. Drug money comes from the Mayans, cash goes straight to the Irish.”

Frankie scoffed digging the gun further into Lyla’s mouth. “I don’t give a shit where you get it. I want $200 grand or I’ll kill Ope’s whore…I won’t stop with her either. I’ll kill Chibs’ whore while I’m at it, kill two whores with one gun.”

Y/N cringed at the statement she not missing the look Chibs sent her he attempting to be reassuring without saying the words.

Nero spoke a sigh leaving him “I got it. In my studio. There’s about 130 grand cash, a couple of gold watches. You want that?”

Frankie shifted his eyes from Nero to Jax as Nero spoke again his voice demanding. “Take that gun out of her mouth, okay.”

Frankie at least did what he was told nodding to Bobby. “Elvis move that fat ass. Go get it, move.”

He held the gun out waving it from Nero to Y/N. “You try anything I’ll kill them both.”

Nero spoke quickly rattling off the combination to the safe and its location.

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek unwilling to let herself cry fear crushing down on her. She kept her eyes locked on Chibs trying to keep her focus only on him. He was the only thing keeping her from falling apart at the moment. She let out a shaky breath the tape digging into her wrists sharply the pain intense.

Y/N tore her eyes from Chibs as she watched as Bobby. The older biker backed out the room going to get the money and watches Frankie was demanding.

Jax spoke quick to challenge Frankie. “How do you think this ends Frankie?”

Frankie shook his head his gun turning to point directly at Y/N as he thought about the statement. “This wasn’t my idea. Clay promised us shit he couldn’t deliver.”

Jax replied ot the comment. “You’re telling me Clay was behind the break ins.”

Frankie shook his head he fast to respond. “Come on Jax. You know he’d do anything to get the gavel back and his cash points.”

Jax spoke up his voice holding a dangerous edge. “He sign off on you going after me and my family?”

Frankie pulled the gun from Y/N pointing it at Jax. “I never went after your family.”

Jax was fast to respond his words harsh. “Someone went after my family. Someone went after Gemma and my kids last night.”

Frankie scoffed at the statement he tilting his chin up. “And why the hell would I do that?”

Chibs spoke up his words defiant despite the situation. “Because you’re a greasy scumbag animal.”

The comment earned Frankie pointing a gun at Chibs’ direction before he pointed the gun back at Y/N. “You want to try that again Chibby? We both know you’re sweet on this little whore. It’d be a shame to splatter her brains all over the wall just because you have a big fucking mouth.”

"I swear to God, if ye fuckin touch a hair on her..." Chibs spat out not getting to finish the threat as Frankie spoke.

"Shut up, I have the gun. I'm in charge. You always have something to say. It's about time you shut that damn mouth."

Bobby reentred the room he holding up a baggie containing the money and watches. “Hey, hey, hey.”

Frankie pulled the gun from Y/N’s direction using it to motion down to the coffee table. “On the table.”

He pointed the gun at Bobby as soon as the bag was dropped on the table. “Get back on your knees.”

Frankie spoke nodding to Nero. “Is that your truck out back?”

Nero barely had a chance to give the affirmative as Frankie spoke again. Shoving Lyla over to Nero. “Get his keys.”

He kept the gun trained on the three Sons as he leaned down reaching for the money. 

Y/N felt her blood run cold when Frankie motioned to Chibs. “Get up Scotty.”

When Chibs hesitated Frankie pointed the gun back at Y/N. “Get up. Remember what I said about her brains and the wall.”

Chibs did as he was told Jax standing as well trying to reason with Frankie all three men speaking at once Chibs speaking loud enough reassuring Jax to keep calm.

Y/N pulled against her bonds as Chibs shot her a look reassuring her. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Love.”

She felt her blood run cold as Frankie tossed Nero’s truck keys at Chibs. “You’re driving. Let’s go.”

Y/N dared to speak as Frankie pulled the gun from her pointing it at Chibs. “Filip, no...”

Chibs spoke before she had a chance to continue. “It’s goin to be okay, Mo leannan. It’ll be okay.”

Frankie pressed a gun to the back of Chibs’ head as he spoke the threat spilling from him. “Any of you come after me, I’ll kill him.”

Jax spoke his words tense. “You’re making a mistake.”

Frankie reacted by pulling the gun away just long enough to shoot Lyla in the upper thigh the action creating enough chaos for him to shove Chibs forward both men leaving the room.

Y/N struggled at her bonds, everything in her screaming as she watched helplessly as the man she loved was dragged away at gunpoint during all the chaos.

Y/N felt like the walls were shutting in on her. She scratched at the tape digging her nails into her skin trying so hard to escape and failing miserably.

She felt a chill run down her spine at the promise to kill Chibs if they were to go after Frankie. He was going to die wasn't he? Who was to say Frankie wouldn't kill him either way? The man she loved was going to die and she couldn't do a damn thing about it.

The chaos continued Bobby freeing both Y/N and Nero from their bonds as promises were made by Nero to call a client of Disoa who happened to be a doctor to patch up Lyla.

Y/N stared up at Jax, her words frantic. “We have to go after him. We have to go get him. He's going to die, Jax. We need to go get him.”

Jax parted his lips to speak but remained silent, the act filing her with rage. She spoke hitting the Sons President’s chest hard beating at him with her fists weakly tears spilling from her eyes her voice cracking. “You’re a fucking coward. You’re just going to do nothing? He would die for you and you're going to leave him to fend for himself. You're a fucking coward. How can you be so weak?”

She glared up at Nero as he pulled her from Jax and spoke his words reassuring. “He’s a tough bastard, Sweetheart. You’ve gotta trust it’ll be alright.”

Y/N felt the tears begin to fall harder sobs spilling from her as she plead for someone to please go get Chibs. She was unable to do anything other than break down.

She didn’t believe Chibs would be alright. None of this felt alright.

She felt like the walking dead as Nero drove her car to her apartment. He’d tried to coax her into spending her night at Diosa but she wanted no part of it. 

So, he’d offered to drive her car and borrow it to get back to Diosa. He’d told her to remain at home tomorrow as though she would have the energy to come in to work the next day. 

She glared up at Nero, her voice harsh as they stood at her front step. “If Filip dies, I will never forgive any of you. I hate all of you.”

“I know you’re hurting right now. I also know you don’t mean that.” Nero replied, cringing at the statement that had left her lips.

He sighed leaning in pressing a kiss to her temple, the act resembling something almost paternal. “He will be okay. I might not have been too thrilled that the Scottish bastard was sniffing around you at first. I will admit that he’s a tough bastard though. You’ll see.”

Y/N scoffed at the comment she fast to speak as she entered her apartment. “I don’t think bullets give a shit how tough he is.”

And with that she slammed the door in Nero’s face, surprisingly not ashamed to be so cold to the man who she adored and credited with saving her life.

She stood in her apartment feeling lost and utterly horrified. 

She found a bottle of vodka in her upper cabinet opening it and drinking straight from the bottle, not caring for a glass at this moment.

She allowed her mind to reflect on the Scotsman she loved; a man who she might never see again.

When Nero had begun his working relationship with SAMCRO, Y/N had been suspicious. She did not think anyone could possibly blame her for being wary of the MC. Afterall, she’d first met three members of SAMCRO when they’d been using Diosa to hide out from the local police department who was trying to scoop them up on a murder charge.

That alone had been enough to make her question her boss and long time paternal figure’s apparent choice to tie himself to SAMCRO.

She knew of course that the MC had only found their way to Nero’s front steps due to the woman he’d apparently taken a liking to.

Gemma Teller had been a one night stand who had turned into something more for Nero. She had seemed to bring trouble along with her much to Y/N’s frustration and dread. 

Y/N had not known what to make of the woman. She seemed intense to say the least…intense, secretive, and calculating.

Y/N had not been the only one who had some serious reservations about Gemma and SAMCRO.

Nero’s sister Carla had not been happy about Gemma’s new found place in Nero’s life nor the outlaw bikers who had come along with her. 

Y/N suspected that Carla and Gemma were just simply too alike to ever dare to coexist; though the thought of the two being so alike was worrisome given the very different type of relationships they seemed to have with Nero. 

Y/N knew enough and had been around long enough to know to tread lightly with Nero’s sister. Gemma seemed less inclined to tread carefully despite Nero’s frustration. Nero loved his sister, no matter how much of a pain Carla could be…no matter how disturbingly possessive Carla could be.

Y/N did not always see eye-to-eye with Carla, but she had to agree that Carla was right to question Nero’s choice to allow not only Gemma but SAMCRO to infiltrate their world.

Y/N’s worry had only grown when Nero had accepted a business deal with Jax which had turned into a business deal with SAMCRO.

Having girls from Cara Cara make appearances at Diosa and offer services to clientele had been a smart business move…but Y/N had remained wary of SAMCRO.

SAMCRO’s newfound partnership with Diosa meant that the MC had become prone to making visits to Diosa.

Y/N had found that she saw the Sons far more often than she’d prefer.

She hated to admit that she’d grown fond of a few of them…Tig for instance could be amusing in a sort of perverted mischievous sense of the word…Happy seemed intense, but he had been far calmer and more respectful than some of Diosa’s clientele. Juice had seemed quiet and she’d honestly sensed a hint of sorrow from him that she could not entirely pinpoint the source of. Bobby was talkative and usually in good spirits. He was always happy to talk about baking and music with Y/N once they’d found out they shared the common interest. 

Jax only came to discuss business with Nero and Y/N hated to admit that he still made her feel suspicious though he’d been polite to her and willing to help Nero out here and there. She’d held the criticism in due to Jax’s willingness to work with Nero on a few favors.

It was the man who usually accompanied Jax that made Y/N feel the most conflicted.

Chibs Telford was an odd one.

His brothers had been perfectly delighted to take advantage of the services the escorts at Diosa offered. They got discounted rates due their partnership with Nero, and Y/N had to think they were taking far too full advantage of those discounted rates.

Chibs had seemed uninterested in the services offered at Diosa though. He might hit up the bar and have a fat glass of expensive scotch, but she did not see him take up any offers of the massages offered by Diosa’s attractive female employees.

Y/N could admit she’d found herself observing the Scotsman far more than she would ever openly admit. 

She’d noticed that he always arrived with Jax and he usually always seemed to be watching over the man. If Jax went to chat with Nero; Chibs was close by. 

She spotted the kutte Chibs wore and patch worn on Chibs’ right side: SGT AT ARMS.

She knew nothing of what the title meant, but by her observations she’d assumed that perhaps the patch signified that Chibs had the duty of playing bodyguard to Jax Teller which would explain why he always looked as though he had an eye out for possible threats.

Much to her shock and annoyance Chibs had seemed to take notice of Y/N as well.

She could admit she’d been annoyed the first time he had made it clear that he had very much taken notice of her.

He had pulled up a desk chair and sat by her side at the front desk interrupting her work to speak. “Ye always look serious. Ye always got the slightest frown on yer face, like yer mad at the monitor yer starin at.”

She’d raised a well manicured brow at the comment, unable to keep the irritation from her voice. “How else am I supposed to look when I’m working? Maybe I’m frowning because I have a lot of work to do.”

“Aye, fair point…and what are ye workin on at the moment?” Chibs dared to ask, taking a slow sip from the glass of scotch he’d been holding leaning in far too close to her.

She’d ignored the realization that he actually smelled kind of pleasant; leather, cigarettes, the slight hint of the scotch he was drinking, a rich woodsy smell that she was sure might be cedar, and a hint of citrus.

She shrugged her shoulders hoping her avoidance of even glancing his way would deter him from continuing this conversation. “Schedules. Have to keep everyone’s appointments and availability on track.”

“So, ye jus do reception work here? I never see ye away from this desk.” Chibs dared to ask, still remaining far too close to her for her sanity.

The words left her lips sounding harsher than she meant for them to be as she practically snapped at him. “I don’t play the companion game, not anymore. That part of me is not for sale, not to anyone…not even you. So, don’t even ask for me.”

She took a deep breath taking notice of the fact that Chibs jerked away from her just the slightest the edge behind her voice taking him off guard. 

He spoke after a moment of silence, seeming to find the right words. “I wasn’ askin fer yer services, Love. Jus’ feelin bored waitin on Jackie Boy to get done talkin with Nero. Thought I’d find conversation with someone who wasn’t lookin to make a buck off me.”

She cleared her throat at the comment the pet name love making her heart do a strange flutter that she was certain she did not approve of. “You aren’t looking for a good time with one of our girls? I heard Uma does a peppermint blowjob.”

He smirked at the comment he quick to reply. “Not interested, tend to like my mint blowjobs in a non-transactional setting.”

He paused clearing his throat. “Not that I’m a cheap bastard, jus’ not interested in gettin my dick wet fer a price. Doesn’ seem like it’d satisfy me when it's all said and done.”

“Even for the discounted rate Nero’s been giving you boys? Pretty sure your friends are taking full advantage of that perk. I do the books and have noticed just how many services your brothers are booking.” Y/N dared to ask, hating to admit that this conversation was interesting to her.

She rarely met men who would not trip over themselves to get laid by a high class companion. The fact that Chibs was not tempted by the availability of the services offered at Diosa intrigued her. 

Chibs took a long sip of his scotch, shrugging his shoulders as he spoke. “Nah, not my thing. The lads are enjoyin that perk a wee bit too much. Can’t say we’re a crowd that practices abstaining from indulgence though, Love.”

She parted her lips to respond to the comment but had not the chance as Jax reappeared from Nero’s office nodding to Chibs. “We gotta go, man.”

Chibs gave her a smile that read as far too flirty and confident for her liking as he spoke to her. “I’ll see ye round, Lass.”

She hated to admit that she was looking forward to seeing him around.

The visits after that had continued with the same pattern; Chibs sat at her desk insisting he was looking for conversation.

She’d been surprised to find that the conversation had come easily. It was unexpected given her past. She’d not always found that talking with men was something that she felt completely at ease with. Chibs was easy to feel at ease with.

The change in the odd friendship they’d developed had come when she’d gotten a flat tire. Chibs had just so happened to be around at the time and had insisted that her car would be towed by TM Auto and that he would personally provide her with a ride home.

Along with the ride home had been an offer for dinner at a nearby diner and despite her kneejerk reaction to tell him no, she’d accepted the dinner offer.

She’d been stunned as she’d opened up to him the words falling from her lips between slow bites of the fries she’d been eating.

“Nero found me almost eight years ago. I got picked up with one of his girls. I’d been in the game since I was barely eighteen…long story short I was young and naive enough not to see the red flags when the charming boyfriend I had acquired turned out to be a less charming pimp. I came from the foster system…my parents were not around and I had no real family…so, it was easy to fall into the life. At the time I figured my boyfriend was all I had and this was a chance to make money…even though it was not something I enjoyed. Things were violent and volatile at best. My boyfriend didn’t quite take care to really screen the guys he set me up with. I’m amazed I survived it all. I was involved with that path for a couple of years. I was barely twenty one when I got arrested and met Nero. The girl I got picked up with, Nero’s girl, she talked praises about her boss and insisted he was different from most of the guys running girls in Northern Cali. She talked about this companion business he’d started up…she talked about how he didn’t put his girls on the street, he set em up in much nicer digs, made them feel like they had control over their work. She was only out at that shit hotel with me because Nero couldn’t stop his girls from doing independent work…he was not amused by her independent work to say the least. When Nero showed up to bail her out, he also bailed me out.”

She paused, her stomach turning avoiding Chibs’ gaze. She felt a sense of anxiety wash over her; she was not entirely inclined to share the story with many people. “He got me talking, I opened up to him about how things had been for me…I was surprised he seemed upset by my experiences thus far. He explained to me that what had been happening to me was unacceptable…that it didn’t have to be like that. I, uh, I kind of fell apart on him. I admitted I wanted out. I was exhausted but too weak and scared shitless to get out on my own. I never wanted to be in the life to begin with. I still don’t know why, but he found use for me. He realized I was smart enough to not only do books for Diosa but to manage the administrative work he didn’t care to deal with. He encouraged me to find my own path. He promised me I didn’t have to sell myself and he kept that promise. He’s looked out for me, taken me under his wing. He feels more like family at this point. I like working for him; I’m thankful he still found use for me outside of companion work. I have zero interest in reentering that line of work ever again. I don’t care how desperate I get in my life…I will never sell my body again. I can’t be that weak and afraid ever again.”

She’d expected Chibs to bolt from the table upon hearing this information. So, imagine her shock when his hand had slid across the table caressing hers.

She’d been dumbfounded when Chibs’ fingers had laced with hers the words leaving him. “I promise ye, ye won’ ever have to reenter that life. Ye don’ have a reason to be afraid. I’ll make sure of that.”

Y/N had been stunned to realize she believed him.

There had been a shared kiss at the end of that night and much to Y/N’s shock the kiss had remained chaste. He’d kissed her so delicately as though she was the most fragile being on the planet to him.

She was certain no one had ever kissed her that gently before in her entire life.

The real change to their relationship had come a few months after that diner conversation and their first kiss.

There had been plenty of shared soft kisses between them after that night, but they’d not gone much further. 

It seemed that he’d sensed that she was a little wary of men at least when it came to experiencing that activity with men. Her past prior to Nero had left her feeling skittish and much to her relief Chibs had proven to be a patient man.

A new client to Diosa had not quite gotten the memo that Y/N was not available for any services.

Chibs had sensed something was wrong the second he’d entered Diosa and spotted the woman he had grown quite fond of.

Usually the sight of her in such a tight fitting little pink cocktail dress would have been pleasing to his senses. 

The man who had seemed to have cornered her at the bar though had made the sight of her in the cocktail dress seem less alluring.

The man was wearing a fine suit and was quite young looking. He was probably close to Y/N’s age. It was clear by the rolex watch on his wrist that he had money to spare. 

Chibs had practically marched over to the bar glaring down at the man who had cornered Y/N. He spoke nodding to her. “Ye okay, Lass?”

She parted her lips to speak but the man who had been just moments before harassing her turned his icy blue eyes up a Chibs a scoff leaving him “I was here first.”

Chibs glared down at him a bit astounded by the somewhat childish remark. “I wasn’ talkin to ye.”

The man didn’t sense the obvious aura of danger radiating off of Chibs because he spoke rolling his eyes. “Listen, Scotty, I approached her first. There’s plenty of whores around here to service you. Though by the looks of you, I don’t think you can afford it. This bitch is driving up a hard bargain. She keeps saying she's not for sale, but why the hell else is she here?”

“Ye watch yer fuckin mouth and leave her alone or I'm goin to beat yer face into this bar. She aint a companion.” Chibs snapped his hands clinching he trying to resist throwing the first punch.

The man let out an unamused chuckle at this. “You’re really threatening me over a whore? This some kind of white knight routine? Trust me man, she doesn’t need your protection.”

He paused a cruel smirk crossing his lips. “When I’m done with this pussy you can have it”

Chibs saw red reaching out at the words his hand pressing to the back of the man’s head. He slammed the man’s head down into the bar a sickening crack sounding out as the man’s nose was bent at an odd angle blood pooling from his nose.

He glared up at Chibs as he recovered from the shock. “You Son of a Bitch.”

He charged at Chibs not making it far as Chibs reacted by raising his fist delivering a harsh blow right square in the man’s clearly broken nose. 

The man howled out in pain he folding over clutching his nose the cartilage shattered.

Nero chose this moment to finally make his way out of the back office dumbfounded by the sight.

“What the hell is goin on here?”

Chibs spoke his voice harsh the words spilling form him. “I’m protectin my lass. Somethin ye shoulda been doin? Ye lettin slimy pricks in here and lettin em harass yer receptionist.”

Nero stared down at Y/N her voice soft she was a bit overwhelmed by the entire exchange she’d had with the man before Chibs had arrived. To be honest she'd found herself frozen in place until Chibs had arrived. The man who had been harassing her was all too like the men who she used to have to service back before she'd met Nero. Being around a man like that left her filled with dread to the point where she remained frozen in place unable to act or think.

“He kept trying to get me to tell him how much I wanted for my services. Kept waving the menu at me demanding I tell him how much he could get for each service from me. I tried to tell him I don’t do that…I tried to tell him I just work at the front desk. I just came to the bar to get ice for my drink. He told me I was lying, trying to get a bigger paycheck for my services. He kept throwing out prices at me and I kept telling him no, but he wasn’t listening.”

Chibs stepped aside stepping around the still pained man his hand reaching out to gently caress Y/N’s side his voice reassuring. “Ye told him no, Love. that shoulda been the only answer he needed.

She let out a shaky breath allowing him to embrace her she clinging to him tightly.

She took a deep breath daring to glance up at Nero though she did not pull from Chibs’ embrace. “Filip was just trying to look out for me. He saw I was afraid.”

Nero sighed running a hand along his face as he glanced at the still pain struck client. “Shit, I’ll take care of him.”

Chibs glared down at the man his voice harsh. “If he shows his face round her again, I’ll fuckin break somethin more painful than a nose.”

Nero held his hands up shaking his head. “No need to throw out threats. I said I’m going to take care of it.”

Y/N sighed pulling from Chibs her eyes spotting the dried blood caked across his knuckles. “Come on, I’ll help you get cleaned up.”

She didn’t speak again until she was pressing a soft damp cloth to Chibs knuckles her voice soft. “I just hope he doesn’t report us. I don’t want to be the reason for a damn raid.”

“Nero will take care of it, Lass.” Chibs reassured her hating that she seemed to be blaming herself for any outcome that might come of this.

She sighed shaking her head shame washing over her. “You didn’t have to hit him.”

“Aye, I did.” Chibs remarked furrowing his brow dumbfounded by the comment. What did she mean he didn't have to hit him? As though he should have stood by and let him harass her?

She sighed again a tight pained smile crossing her features. “He didn’t lie…I’m a whore, or I used to be…I mean, I work in the company of them. So, I might as well be one. So, he didn’t lie.”

Chibs was fast to speak his hand reaching out to press to her cheek the words certain. “Ye hated doin that line of work, Love. I ain't goin to sit back and let some prick call ye that word when I know it's a word that fills ye with nothin but pain. I know yer past filled ye with so much sorrow. Ye work so hard fer Nero and yer proud of the work ye do here. Ye keep this place runnin fer him. Yer more than what ye use to do almost a decade ago. Ye don’ do that type of work anymore. Ye told me ye’d never sell yer body again. I aint lettin anyone treat ye like ye can be bought. I know ye only wanna give that part of yerself to someone who deserves it. It can't be bought. I ain' lettin' anyone treat ye like ye can be bought or disrespect ye in any way shape or form. I’m goin to protect ye.”

She felt the tears fall at the words she leaning up pressing her lips to his, the kiss growing deep.

She managed to speak her hands taking his as she lead him from the small kitchen area in the back rooms of Diosa towards one of the “therapy rooms” her voice soft. “I want you to show me, Filip. Show me how much you deserve that part of me.”

He moaned at the request fully content to give her exactly what she was asking for.

Y/N felt tears leak from the corners of her eyes at the memories. She could remember that night that she’d taken him back to the rooms usually used by the companions and demanded he show her that he deserved her body. 

He’d shown her that he deserved her ten-fold. 

He’d made love to her that night; it was something she’d never experienced before in her life. It was an experience she’d had many nights since then. Each time took her breath away. Each time she was reminded of how much she adored Chibs Telford.

He loved her. Though he’d not said the words yet out loud. She was certain of it. 

She felt a sob escape her the fear she might never experience his love ever again washing over her.

She did not want to live in a world where his love was not in her grasp.

—---------------------------

The firm knock awoke her, rousing her from sleep. She cringed at the massive hangover that felt as though it was tap dancing on her brain.

She groaned, her mouth feeling sticky, a terrible taste on her tongue.

She felt bile rise in her throat, she shoving it down refusing to vomit.

She stared up at the ceiling in taking her a long while to gather the energy to get up from her sofa.

She glared at the vodka bottle on the coffee table as though it was solely responsible for all of life’s problems.

She stood up her feet padding across the carpet as she spoke her voice tense. “Keep your damn pants on, I’m coming.”

She peered through the peep hole to her apartment, the sight of her visitor making tears leak from her eyes before she could stop them.

She flung the door open, she practically falling into his arms full sobs leaving her.

Chibs held her against him allowing her to fall apart against him shaking sobs leaving her. He ran a hand up and down her back whispering soothing words to her.

She finally pulled back from him just enough to speak. “Are you real?”

He snorted at the comment, taking him off guard. “I think so.”

She let out a shaky breath fast to speak a million questions dancing through her head. “How did you get away?”

“Fuckin prick glocked me in the back of the head with the butt of his gun. Had me down on me knees in the middle of fuckin nowhere. I thought he was goin to execute me righ then and there, but someone started hokin their horn…he had a ride come fer him. He was on the damn cell all the entire time talkin to someone…Clay maybe, I don’ know. I guess he decided catchin his ride was more important than killin me.” Chibs explained a chill running down her spine.

He ran a hand up and down her back, his voice soft and reassuring. “I’m okay, all in one piece.”

She stared up at him, her brow furrowing. “How’d you get here?”

“Fuckin trucker found me lyin in a pool of my own blood. Took me to the ER to get stitched up. Told em I picked up a hitchhiker in Nero’s truck and the bastard robbed me. Gave a vague description of my hitchhiker. It’s fine.” He reassured her not shocked by the small frown that crossed her features at his insistence that it was fine.

She spoke not caring if she was possibly risking smothering him. “Let me see.”

He sighed leaning down parting his hair just enough to let her see the stitches on the back of his head. 

She spoke her voice small. “Jesus, Filip.”

“I’m okay. I promise.” He reassured her, straightening back up keeping the reminder of what had happened to him out of her gaze.

She shook her head her voice soft. “Your head tells a different story.”

“Aye, I know. I’m hardheaded though luckily enough. So, I’m gonna fare well.” He insisted his arms wrapping back around her, holding her close.

She spoke, sinking against his hold, needing to say the words. “You could have died, Filip.”

“Aye, I know. I know, Love. I could die everyday. It’s the life I chose.” He insisted, hating that the words could not bring her comfort though they were the truth. It was a harsh reality that he could not hide from.

She spoke her eyes watering needing to say the words though she’d never worked up the nerve to say them. “You could have died and I would have not had the chance to tell you that I love you.”

Chibs felt the breath leave his body at the statement. He allowed it to wash over him, the realization that she loved him making him feel warm and secure.

He spoke the words leaving him without fear. “When the slimy bastard had me down on my knees…when I thought I was done fer. I thought bout a lot of shite, my daughter, the club, my brothers, the choices I made…apologies fer all the shite I’ve done and all I’ve failed to do. I thought of ye too…thanked the lord fer bringin ye into my life…said my thanks fer lettin me have ye. Prayed ye’d be okay without me.”

“I wouldn’t be okay without you. I was so scared, Filip. I was certain you’d die. I was so mad at Jax that he wouldn't go after you. I told Nero that I would never forgive him if you died.” She exclaimed, soaking up his words he pressing a kiss to her temple, whispering soft reassurances that he was okay.

He placed a hand against her cheek, the words leaving him. “I love ye. I wish it hadn’t taken me getting smacked over the head with a gun by a greasy prick fer me to have the nerve to say the words.”

He pressed his lips to hers, the kiss brief before he spoke again. “I love ye Mo leannan. I promise ye that. Ye got no reason to be afraid with me, I got ye.”

She clung to him the words leaving her, she was certain of them. “That goes both ways Filip. You have no reason to be afraid with me either. I have you too.”

He held on to her so tight that it almost hurt he whispered soft words to her, the words intelligible between kisses to her skin.

She closed her eyes, soaking up the kisses and the promises behind them.

She might have been wary of the Scotsman when Nero had first brought SAMCRO into her world.

Y/N knew though that Filip Chibs Telford was her world. She had never known love before him. She would do whatever it took to give him that love in return.

She knew that he not only deserved her body, but her heart as well. She could not think of anyone else who would be more deserving of her heart than Chibs Telford.

[pseudowho]

i’m the anon with the boyfriend who hates me stealing his clothes again…. okay so he SAYS he sees his best friend like a sister but i feel like to me their relationship sometimes seems more than that? but i tend to be a very jealous person sometimes and i know that’s not a good trait to have so i keep telling myself i’m just being insane for no reason because they’ve known each other practically since they were babies. so it does make sense that they’re super close and that they would have a very sibling relationship.

but there are things that bother me sometimes and i can never tell if i’m being jealous and insane or if it’s a valid thing. like they have a lot of sleepovers but they always share/sleep in the same bed (i told my bf i was weirded out by that and he said it wasn’t a big deal and they’ve just always done that since they were kids so i let it go). and they’re both very physically affectionate in general but they’re also really affectionate like that towards each other like they hold hands and stuff in public sometimes. and sometimes i go over to his and they’ll be having one of their movie nights and they’ll be cuddling on the couch. and last month was his birthday (it was his first birthday we’re celebrating together, we’ve been dating a few months now) and i was planning a whole thing for him so that his friends and all could be there but when i told his best friend about it she told me that he wouldn’t like it because they apparently have a thing where they celebrate each others birthdays together, just the two of them. i didn’t know about it before she told me and i thought it would be a bit different now because well i’m in the picture. but no, he told me that it was just their tradition and i didn’t get to celebrate his birthday with him at all. i’ve voiced some of these things to him but it always just comes down to the fact that they’ve known each other forever and that they’re like siblings and they’re just really close. and then that makes me feel bad and like i’m just being the stereotypical jealous girlfriend because they are really close because they had a really fucked up childhood and they only really had each other growing up. plus, his best friend’s been nothing but nice to me and i really don’t wanna hurt there relationship. i just don’t know what to think or feel sometimes

Late Edit after a very helpful correction made via THIS ASK -- I have used the term 'trauma bonding' incorrectly; really, I should have defined 'relationships with shared trauma' instead, as trauma bonding more closely defines an abuser/victim dynamic. Thank you to OP for the correction!

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Oh man...this is so much to unpack.

Trauma-bonded relationships can be very, very close. So close, that eventually, it begins to blur the lines, as a certain level of co-dependence becomes as intimate as a romance, if not more. It sounds, quite honestly, like this is what your boyfriend and his best friend may have.

I hate to say it, and I really am no expert, but I think your boyfriend and her need to really actually get to the bottom of it; is this a romance between them? If not, will they ever realistically be able to have stable, satisfying romances with other partners, while they are each fulfilling this most intimate role for the other?

Because it sounds like perhaps this is normal for them, unless they're both really taking you for a mug, and you're actually the side-piece. But normal for them doesn't necessarily make this guy romantic-relationship-suitable, because all of the things that he really should be that intimate with his girlfriend about...he does with another woman.

Personally, if this was me? I'd break up with the guy, but gently. It wouldn't be a blame thing; I'd say that his relationship with his best friend is a beautiful thing, but that fundamentally, it's so intimate that it requires further investigation by the both of them, and is all in all incompatible with an apparently monogamous relationship with another (i.e. you).

You may love him, and he may love you, but it seems that you are on different pages about what romantic love means to you, and what is a healthy boundary to expect from a partner in a committed monogamous relationship.

I certainly wouldn't be offering an ultimatum (it's me or her!) in this situation because, as you say, they are bonded by something that may be really quite traumatic and profound.

I'm sorry, anon. This is, of course, only what I would do. And I'm not a professional. But this is a complex situation with a lot of emotions at play, and the two people at the centre of it clearly have some things that need to be addressed.

Love,

-- Haitch xxx

[st4rgrl4l1f3]

There was literally no excuse for the way Simon and Soap were the stupidest fucking people together. And only together. They are skillful soldiers, they always complete their mission. But holy fuck, take them out? Put them on a damn leash. It’s like two dogs trying to look at everything whilst on a walk.

Nothing could prepare Gaz for the way Price genuinely says shit like “whoopsies” “We’re in a bit of a jam, huh?” “Uh oh”. Kinda like if he was talking to a little kid. Gaz didn’t know why he used those kinds of words, here’s this special forces captain whom he thought was stone cold; apparently that only applies on the battlefield.

Alejandro’s mind was completely empty, watching Ghost, Soap and Gaz attempt to learn more Spanish. Soap couldn’t roll his R’s, Gaz sounded American whilst attempting to say a word that had been troubling him. It was Ferrocarril. Railroad. Ghost thought that turning Spanish subtitles on his show would help. It didn’t. “Joder, sois estúpidos de cojones..” (Holy shit, you guys are stupid as fuck..).

If Soap is mad, he won’t hesitate to scream. Yell. Only if it’s in the comfort of his home. Captain Price once came over and thought Soap was being attacked. No. He burned his breakfast. Running into the kitchen, gun in hand, he watches Soap pop more toast into the toaster. “Hope my eggs won’t get cold.” “Fuckin hell, Soap. I thought you were dying.” “No, I burned my toast.” “Fucks sake.”

Ghost genuinely cannot go a week without wreaking havoc. Scaring the shit out of people. He likes scaring the new young soldiers, ones who think they’re all that because they got into the military. That is, until Ghost comes up behind them, a heavy hand on their shoulder. “You ever been on the battlefield?” Said in a voice deeper than he’d normally go, but it was funny as shit to him, watching the soldiers jump and then looking straight into their eyes, watching as they attempt to politely disengage in the conversation.

Alejandro frequently plays video games, hard ones that he gets up on his high horse talking about “How hard can a Videojuego be?” (How hard can a video game be?” …Until he is red with rage, veins popping out of his forehead, hands shaking and squeezing the controller so tight that Rudy thought it was going to break. “No es tan grave, Alejandro ..” (It’s not that serious, Alejandro..” he says, getting more and more quiet as he spoke. Alejandro looked back at him, throwing the controller into the wall (denting it.) “You try then, Pendejo.” He says in a dark, creepy ass voice.

The teams genuine reaction when Gaz pulls out a book on the helicopter and starts reading is fucking insane. “Reading?” Ghost comments, wide eyed and sounding astonished. “I mean, the flight will be long. Might as well” He says, shrugging. “You’ve gotta be kiddin’, Gaz.” Soap scans Gaz’s eyes, looking for any humor in them. None. He was completely serious?? “Well, nothin wrong with a bit of reading, yeah boys?” Captain Price reads the room—“..You guys seriously don’t read? Ever?” “Why the fuck would we read-“ they both chirp in unison.

Captain Price is either over dressed or under dressed for the occasion. Why are you wearing a suit at Christmas dinner…And why are you wearing shorts and a Metallica shirt to church…Sometimes Gaz helps him dress so that he won’t look out of place. Has to take him out shopping since he’s rarely in normal clothes, I mean he’s got his gear and a civilian outfit (STRICTLY a civilian outfit.), maybe four shirts, a few pairs of shorts, three pairs of jeans, and a pair of sweatpants. Which wasn’t exactly bad, but for church that just will not do, Captain!!!

Soap has no social anxiety. He’s loud when he laughs, talking with random men at the bar, telling his story to some guy named Daniel who he just met 13 minutes ago. Which for the record, Daniel thinks Soap is fucking awesome. Holy shit dude, you’re a special op? Yeah that’s not something you see everyday. Him and Daniel now meet at the bar a few times per week when Soap is given the green light to do so.

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 2 - React

Smashed out some more words on the old commute. Am writing poor Virgil’s story from both ends now - this sits somewhere in the future where it all comes back to bite him (and happens immediately after this scene).

Train fic means unedited for now so please forgive heinous errors. Also it was a toss up between “solar flare” and “rare earth minerals” (thanks @gumnut-logic) for what is hampering Five and EOS for tension purposes - had to hamper them somehow else they are a bit OP. Also one of the other Thunderbirds has Magic so… *fudges everything*

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“HOW CAN HE HAVE DISAPPEARED? WE LIVE ON AN ISLAND!!”

“I’m doing my best, Scott, but the solar flare is overwhelming some of Five’s sensors… there are only so many overrides EOS and I can…”

“Sorry. Yes. I’m sorry, John, it’s just…”

“I know.” The precise set of John’s jaw revealed his tension but otherwise he was projecting calm, sympathetic professionalism.

Scott looked around at the various shades of brave face the remainder of his family were wearing. Allie looked sick as a dog but stood tall and his shoulders were squared. Gordon was muttering aggressively and glaring at the island infographic as if it was deliberately withholding information. Brains was whispering to MAX and recalibrating scans at the speed of desperation. Kayo’s expression had set into neutral with the slightest tension in her frame which he recognised as her readiness to spring to their defence against… whatever was happening.

What WAS happening? It had been so fast and Scott had been so absorbed in his own thoughts he didn’t have any answer for what happened in the seconds between Virgil cheerily entering the room bearing coffee and him bolting like a startled hare.

“And he’s not been hiding an illness? His vitals were…”

“Entirely within normal range until 14 minutes ago when there was a sharp spike in heart rate and blood pressure for 6 minutes then he…”

“Disappeared.”

“Became invisible to Five’s scans, yes.”

“Maybe he took one of the boats?” Gordon ventured.

“Negative, EOS has scanned the dry dock, they are all still down there.”

“And no unexplained life signs?” Scott knew they’d covered this but he just couldn’t accept the answer.

John sighed but answered patiently “No, Scott that was the first thing we checked.”

Scott paced and tried to drag his mind out of the spiral of imagining the various scenarios in which his brother could be somewhere a life sign wasn’t. He needed to compartmentalise. This was just another search and rescue mission.

Rescue. Not recovery. Please not recovery.

“Ok. Manual search it is. Brains, you and Max use the drones to access the caldera and the more remote parts of the western slopes. Kayo, Gordon take Thunderbird Four on a clockwise sweep to check the beaches. Alan, you and I will…”

“JOHN!” EOS‘s voice was shrill and Scott’s heart froze.

“Thunderbird Shadow has commenced her launch sequence!”

Kayo’s eyes widened in shock.

“SHADOW? What? Why?”

Everyone looked blank.

“Is Virgil in there? Can you reach him?”

“Sorry Scott, she’s already cloaked and there’s no reply on comms.”

“Stop the launch then!”

“I can’t, we’re locked out.”

“I can.” Kayo, pulled up her remote access and wrestled with the controls for a few seconds before breathing a sigh of relief. “Ok, she’s not going anywhere. Um…”

Scott was already heading for the elevator to the hangars when his sister’s uncharacteristic uncertainty arrested him. He looked back. She swallowed.

“We may have a slight problem.”

“What? What is it Kayo??” Scott knew he was raising his voice but it was that or burst into frustrated tears which was… not an option.

EOS answered first.

“Thunderbird Shadow halted her sequence on the outside of the cliff face.”

Virgil was suspended over a death drop.

“Can we lock him inside?” Gordon had clearly reached the same horrified conclusion as his eldest brother had. Kayo shook her head.

Brains stepped forward “Unf-fortunately n-not as currently configured. The p-pilot’s ability to exit is always p-prioritised over remote a-access in c-case of… c-compromise.”

“I get it. Not your fault Brains. EOS?”

“I’m working on it Scott.”

“Good, in the meantime I’ll grab a couple of jet packs.” Scott headed for the hangar again.

“SCOTT! Wait!” John had dropped the professionalism which arrested Scott’s momentum faster than a brick wall.

“What now John??”

“Let the others go. You have to change.”

“WHAT?!”

“He can’t see you wearing… that.”

Scott looked down at the dress uniform he had forgotten he was wearing and ice crept down his spine. This… was the problem? He suddenly realised John knew something that he didn’t and cursed himself for not finding out what it was already. But now wasn’t the time.

“Right. You three, take jetpacks and get up there but don’t let him get out before I’m with you. I’ll be there asap.”

“FAB.”

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Chapter 3…

Whole story in order

[ejunkiet]

new instincts

a little more of the dadvid fic hehehehe we’re getting FLUFFY.

redacted audio: davey/angel, rated teen, pregnancy mention.

Of course it would be Asher who clued in first.

READ ON AO3! | part one on tumblr

tag requests: @terrazaurio​ @interdimensional-chaos​

--

part two: new instincts

Of course it would be Asher who clued in first.

It’s only been a few days since their trip to the doctor’s office, confirming the pregnancy. Just over four weeks. Birth control failures were rare but not unheard of, their doctor had assured them, and the rest of the pregnancy should proceed as normal. Congratulations.

They’d been booked in for their next appointment in a month’s time, and that was that.

The rest of the week had almost felt like a dream. He’d taken a few days off from the office, leaving Asher in charge of running the daily ops while he focused on making plans and settling Angel back at home, even as they teased him about it.

(“It’s still early days, Davey. I’m perfectly able to make my own lunch, thank you very much.”)

It’s late on Friday after work, when Asher comes over to drop off some paperwork, that the secret comes out.

He’d called ahead to say that he’d be coming by - that he had some paperwork that needed David’s signature, that couldn’t wait until next week. He’d been late, but that also hadn’t been unexpected - he always was, unless it was a work event.

But then he'd taken one look at them, his head tilted to the side and nostrils flaring as he inhaled, before his eyes had widened and he’d nearly dropped the messenger bag he was carrying.

“Holy shit.”

A low growl rises from David’s throat before he can bite it back, his mate’s fingers twitching against their side as their eyes widen in turn. He can hear the skip of their heartbeat, their weight shifting from foot-to-foot before they release a snort.

“It’s that obvious?”

They lean into David and he shifts until they can fit more snugly against his side, his arm finding their waist as he resists the urge to flash his teeth at his beta. There’s an aggression in him that he’s not used to, his protective instincts rearing to the surface with Asher’s proximity to his mate.

It didn’t make any sense. This was his pack, his family. But the knowledge doesn’t satisfy his wolf, and it lingers just below the surface of his skin, the same way it had the rest of the week.

“David.” He blinks, glancing down to find his mate looking up at him expectantly, an amused smile playing on their lips, as if it’s not the first time they’ve called his name. “Why don’t we let him in? We can talk about this more inside.”

Right. Releasing a breath, he steps back, catching his beta’s eye. “You heard them. In.”

–

“So. What gave it away?”

Ash offers them a grin from where he’s perched on the far end of the sofa, all long limbs and sharp elbows, a hand running through the wild tangles of his hair.

“David. He smells all…” He trails off, his expression turning contemplative, before he shrugs, as if he can’t find a word for it. “It’s instinct. I can sense it. Probably could even if he wasn’t projecting like a grumpy papa wolf.”

David does flash his teeth this time and Asher snorts, raising both hands. “Look, it’s natural. I saw the same thing with my cousins. My dad’s brother, he got all kinds of territorial before he got his instincts back under control.”

Territorial. The pieces click into place, and shit.

David doesn’t lose control. Not like this. He can’t afford to, not in his role as alpha, and especially not at the expense of his pack. His mate feels him tense up - they’re too close not to - and they squeeze his hand, the contact grounding against the rising tide of guilt.

Asher notices the shift too, his brow creasing with confusion, before it clicks. “David- it’s natural. Something that everyone goes through.”

He takes a breath and holds it, feeling the weight of their eyes on him as he regains control of himself. “I’ll handle it.”

Asher’s still watching him, a twist to the soft curve of his mouth, before he nods. “Whatever you say, big guy.” His attention shifts to his mate then, and he offers them a grin. “How long have you known?”

They match his grin with one of their own, and the tension in the room eases. “Not long. We got it confirmed earlier this week.”

“It has been a long time since there’s been a new cub in the pack…” Asher’s eyes narrow in thought, focused on the floor where his socks clash terribly with the carpet beneath the coffee table, but he doesn’t miss the way Angel reacts to the moniker, flashing them a grin. “Cute, right?”

“Does this mean we’ll need to deck out the whole family in baseball gear?”

Asher snorts once, twice, before he doubles over with laughter, shaking so hard that he almost falls off the end of the couch. David drops his head into his hands, silently asking what he’d done to deserve this as he resists the urge to groan.

Angel sits through it all with a smug smile on their face, looking pleased with themself, and with a low growl, he tugs them closer, wrapping his arm snug around them until they’re pressed against his side.

When Ash can breathe again, he shakes his head. “Never change, little boss.”

Glancing at the clock, he pushes to his feet, offering them a crooked grin. “Looks like I’m out of time. I just wanted to drop off the paperwork and check in.”

“Ash.” David’s voice is a low warning as he makes to leave, but he waves him off.

“I won’t be telling anyone, big guy. Well. Except for my mate, that is.” David releases a low snort, some of the tension in him easing. Ash knew how to keep a secret, when it mattered. “But David… when it comes to the next pack meeting, you know that the rest of them will be able to tell, right?”

His tone is still light, but there’s a seriousness in his expression that he doesn’t show often as he glances at David, a wry smile on his lips.

David releases a slow breath, not missing the way his mate’s hand slips to his side, settling against his hip and squeezing. “I know.”

“Good.” He nods, before grinning again, bright enough to flash his teeth, the tension of the moment dissipating as quickly as it had come. “Keep us updated? Let us know if you need to push anything, we’d be cool with that.”

“We’ll do that,” Angel agrees, matching his grin easily. “Thanks, Ash.”

“Anytime.” He waves two of his fingers in a cheerful salute, his grin as wide as anything, before he heads towards the front door. “Take it easy, both of you.”

The door clicks shut behind him, leaving them both in a comfortable silence. It’s always like this after Asher leaves, a moment of calm, steady quiet after the hurricane of his presence.

Angel lets out a soft breath, squeezing his side briefly again before shifting back to catch his gaze. There’s a gleam in their eye that he recognises, one that promises trouble.

“So. Wolves prefer baseball to basketball, then?”

[letters-from-the-4077]

4x18: Hawkeye

Dear Dad,

I am concussed. So so so many concussions. You’d think my brain was made of gelatin the way it wobbles and wibbles. I don’t think wibbles is a word.

Mr. BJ is writing this letter for me. Actually, it’s Dr. BJ. Dr. Hunnicutt of the 4077th MASH unit.

My head hurts. But I wanted to you know that I am okay. 

You know what’s funny? If I didn’t write to you to tell you that I’m okay, you would never have known that there was a chance I’m not okay, which means that this letter is net zero information. The unknown and being not okay cancel each other out and then you carry the two and then you get me, your son, being okay.

Your bestest okay-est son,

Hawkeye

.

Dr. Pierce,

This is BJ writing now. I suppose I also wrote the top bit, but only because I don’t think Hawkeye would’ve been able to hold a pen and focus on the page at the same time, and even he seemed to realize that. Correspondence when it comes to Hawkeye is surprisingly difficult. Lots of “stops” and “wait don’t actually write that.” Hopefully I got enough of what Hawkeye was trying to say. Even concussed, his brain moves faster than his mouth.

He is going to be okay, just so you know. Nobody’s really quite sure what happened and he’s either too concussed or too guarded (or both) to tell us anything more than the basics, but he’s back safe at the 4077th, and nobody’s about to let him out of their sight for the next couple of days. I’m sitting on an extra bed in post-op now, writing this letter to you. Hawkeye’s finally resting and I felt that what he told you might’ve caused more worry than what should’ve been assuaged, which is why I’ve decided to continue it. 

I hope that’s not too forward of me. I’d write you a whole new letter but I wouldn’t want that to cause even more concern, and besides, paper’s in high demand out here. Everything’s in high demand, actually. 

But Hawkeye is going to be just fine, if not in need of a few weeks of bed rest, God help me when I have to actually tell him that. I’m sure you know better than I, but Hawk’s not too into staying in one place and resting until it’s the only thing he seems to do. 

He hasn’t confirmed it yet, but Radar—that’s the company clerk, I’m sure Hawkeye’s told you about him—said that there was an overturned jeep next to a small local village, and he’s pretty sure Hawkeye was in it when it crashed. Radar said he didn’t see any evidence of shelling or anything like that, so your guess is as good as ours as to why the jeep decided to roll over on its side in the first place. 

Hawkeye was due back from the 8063rd where he went down to help out because two of their surgeons came down with the flu, along with about half of  their nurses. Miraculously, we haven’t had any flu problems out here in the 4077th, but maybe we’re next in line. Whatever the case may be, Hawk’s jeep crashed on his way back and according to Radar and Hawkeye’s ramblings, a nice Korean family kept an eye on him for the better part of the day and sent one of their daughters to our camp to go collect him.

We took pictures the second Radar came in with Hawkeye, and even in his own state of being concussed, he had managed to diagnose himself with the right thing without any of our imaging. We merely confirmed what he had already announced: a skull fracture just behind his ear, on the fissure between his right parietal and temporal bones. I’d say it’s a minor fracture, but the skin is broken, and you know as well as I do that there’s really no such thing as a minor skull fracture. 

He’d been mostly alert and somewhat been able to follow conversations, but you never know with Hawkeye. Even on a good day, where he has zero skull fractures, his mind runs faster than the rest of ours. Jumping between thoughts has never been much of an anomaly, but I’ll be the first to say that it’s worse than normal.

But, I digress. He’s resting now, actually sleeping, and we’re all going to keep an eye on him. I’m writing this in the mid evening, and I don’t get off until 2200. Regardless, I’m going to spend the rest of the night in post-op to make sure that nothing happens during the night. We’ve already started him on saline and penicillin; saline for rehydration, and penicillin because nobody here wants to chance a skull fracture becoming infected. The phrase “preventive medicine” comes to mind, but I doubt any doctor but myself is thinking about that in Korea. 

You’re probably going to be getting another letter from Hawkeye when he wakes up. I don’t think he’s going to remember much of this past day, let alone the hour before finally falling asleep and the mumbling of words as he tried to get through a letter to you. He’s also going to probably downplay his injuries when he writes to you, which is another reason why I felt the need to take over this letter. 

I’m not sure if Hawkeye’s told you anything about me, but I have a daughter out by San Francisco, nearly 10 thousand miles away, and if anything had happened to her, I know that I’d want to know immediately, and with all the details. It might be different seeing as how Erin, that’s my girl, is only a few months old and Hawkeye is pushing 31, but I’m not convinced. This might be the naivety of a new parent coming through, but I get the feeling that no matter how old they get, you never stop worrying. 

I suppose I should reiterate it again: Hawkeye is going to be okay, and we’re all keeping an eye on him, even Margaret. Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I think she truly cares about Hawkeye. He’s an easy person to care about. Almost too easy to worry about, some days. 

If anything else happens, I’ll get Radar to place a call to you so you don’t have to wait for these letters. I suppose if that’s going to happen, you’ll have already known about it, seeing as how postage delay is up to about two weeks out here. 

I think Hawkeye’s rambling might be rubbing off on me, and there’s really no other updates I can get at this time, so I’ll end it here and get this letter sent first class. 

Signed,

BJ Hunnicutt

Previous | Next

[study-with-aura]

Monday, February 26, 2024

Today was a nice day, I especially loved this evening since it is observation week at ballet. My mom stayed to watch class, and I was very happy that she did. Normally she spends time with H's mom while we're in class, since H and I are in the same vocational grade, but they both stayed since they were allowed. Normally parents aren't allowed to observe class since it can be distracting. They have observation twice a year.

I am also going to post my mood tracker on here for the next 14 days. I think it will be nice to have a record of it, and if I enjoy it, I have an original copy to copy more pages as needed. Although, it might be better, after the 14 days if I find it helpful, to download an app to my phone so I don't waste paper. If anyone has any good mood tracking apps they would recommend, let me know in the comments or in an ask.

Tasks Completed:

Geometry - Reviewed the distance formula + reviewed slopes of parallel and perpendicular lines + learned to find areas on the coordinate plane + practice + learned to classify figures with coordinates + practice

Lit and Comp II - Copied Unit 19 Vocabulary + read chapter 27 of Emma by Jane Austen + completed descriptive writing assignment then emailed to mom for grading (47/50 because I could have used better descriptive words)

Spanish 2 - Reviewed vocabulary + quiz (100%) + read about the royal palace of Madrid + looked a photos of houses in Spain

Bible I - Read Joshua 19

World History - Submitted essay to Mom for grade (40/40)

Biology with Lab - Read about how acid rain can change an ecosystem + read facts about natural gas + looked at the use of wind and solar energy around the world

Foundations - Read more on resourcefulness + completed Lumosity daily brain workout + learned about propaganda + learned about propaganda in political campaigns + watched previous political campaign ads + read about propaganda in advertising

Piano - Practiced one hour

Khan Academy - Completed High School Geometry Unit 6: Lesson 4 (parts 4-6) + Unit 6: Lesson 3 (parts 1-2) (both lessons were already assigned)

CLEP - None today

Duolingo - Studied for 15 minutes (Spanish, French, Chinese) + completed daily quests

Reading - Read pages 187-285 of A Door in the Dark by Scott Reintgen

Chores - Cleaned my bathroom + cleaned windows in my bedroom and in the study + took the trash and recycling out

Activities of the Day:

Personal Bible Study (Psalms 118)

Volunteered for 2 hours at the library

Ballet

Contemporary

Journal/Mindfulness

-

What I’m Grateful for Today:

I am grateful for the advice of my friends. They know me very well, and when I have trouble figuring something out, they always know what to say or how to help or how to support me.

Quote of the Day:

The funny thing about armor is that it doesn’t just keep other people out. It keeps us in. We build it up around us, not realizing that we’re trapping ourselves.

-The Unbound, Victoria Schwab

🎧Prelude Op. 33, No. 7 in F sharp major - Sergei Bortkiewicz

[mamawasatesttube]

I know we’re on the angst train rn, but the control and precision needed to use ttk the way Kon can… is so hot. He should brag about it because it is an incredible skill few people would be able to wield

WE CAN BE ON BOTH. he angsts about it but ITS HOT!!!!!!! ITS SO COOL AND SEXY OF HIM!!!!!! its a staple of my rich inner universe that sometimes kon does some insanely difficult intricate ttk thing (disarming a bomb from two rooms away?) OR some super op scary shit (freezing an entire platoon of alien soldiers to the ground and dismantling their guns while they're immobile?) and tim is standing there gripping his bo staff a normal amount,

[rosesradio]

Putting this one on anon to avoid the Backlash™ but genuinely thank you for being one of the few profiction people in the Riordanverse fandom who actually makes a point about how oversaturated the solangelo and percabeth is. I love percabeth, don't get me wrong, and some of the solangelo art has some true heart and emotion put into it, but acting like these ships are somehow "pure" and "unproblematic" is ludicrous. Will regularly cotton-wools Nico and underestimates Nico's ability to know his own limits. Annabeth can be downright possessive of Percy to the point it makes her aggressive towards others. Just because a ship doesn't involve *checks notes* a miniscule age gap between *checks further notes* characters, that are still BOTH minors at time of writing, and are *taps sign* capable of having a relationship that's entirely *taps sign louder* platonic and NONSEXUAL, doesn't mean it's absolved of any "problematic" elements. But I guess Will shows up and suddenly all the people who were formerly frothing at the mouth over percico or lukabeth have to shove their pre-2010s ship art under the rug and abandon ship lest they be seen as "pEdOpHiLeS". Like... I'm no lukabeth shipper either, I'm pretty much neutral on it, but it's like... who the fuck cares? Everyone in this series is fictional. No real people are being hurt. Sure, don't normalize anything that could be abusive, but abuse isn't intrinsically tied to an age gap of, need I remind people, less than five years. Half these people would probably lose their minds if they actually read the original Greek myths in which there's age gaps, incests and bestiality left right and center. Zeus turns people, including himself, into animals and coerces people all the time. So does Poseidon. Apollo chases after a nonconsenting Daphne. The original myths are full of rape and misogyny, people and animals being tortured, and many other things that by today's standards would be immoral. And yet people still love these myths enough to write various beloved media adaptions about them including musicals, books, videogames, tv shows about the children of these messed up and chaotic entities. Either way, OP, unless you're actively endorsing and condoning real world, non-fictional abuse of animals, children or otherwise nonconsenting parties, then WHO. THE. FUCK. CARES. keep writing whatever you want. or don't. i'm not a cop.

😳

i mean…yeah, that sounds about right. it’s honestly a wonder to me how many people in the fandom are so extremely pro-censorship & sensitive to any dark themes in media when pjo itself is rooted in (admittedly glossed over for the middle grade audience) Greek myths that are…messy on a good day, lol.

also the toxic side of percabeth & solangelo intrigues me, but not enough to really explore it. plus like you said, the Backlash™ would be insane. but you make a lot of really good thought out points.

also, of course i would never condone the things i explore in fiction to happen irl—oftentimes some of the things are explorations of my own traumas that i wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy (not to say you need to be traumatized to write darkfic or ship xyz, but that’s another post i’ve made before).

i honestly really wish people would come forward as being profiction in fandom more often, because to be honest, i think we’re the majority. but at the same time i know from experience that the Backlash™ can be pretty nasty, so i understand wanting to stay anon.

[imagionationstation]

2012 Ep Skimming:

Presenting: The Frankenstein Experiment

I love how his brothers are focused on saving the world from the monsters (as they should be, absolutely no shaming here) and Donnie’s solely focused on the brother that’s on the wrong side of the fight. This kid just spends the entire episode trying to fix him and worrying about him, and it’s so GOSH DARN HEARTWARMING- WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME DEE 🥺❤️💜

Mikey: “Aw, man! Frankenstein? We gotta take on Frankenstein too?”

Donnie: “Not just that. We gotta save Raph and turn him back to normal!”

Leo: “Come on, we got to get to Frankenstein’s castle while it’s still light out.”

Donnie: “What about Raph?”

Leo: “I don’t know, man. Unless you or Renet come up with any bright ideas, Raphael may be lost forever.”

FIRST OFF: MR. NARDO, YOU DID NOT JUST GIVE UP ON YOUR BRO LIKE THAT! THE HAY, MAN

SECONDLY: DID YOU REALLY JUST STICK THAT ON HIS SHOULDERS?! WE GONNA LOSE OUR BROTHER FOREVER UNLES YOU DO SOMETHING?!

Leo. This is why me and you have issues man. (OP says like they’ve ever actually interacted with him more than him being on a screen-)

Dr. Frankenstein: “Donatello. You are the best assistant I’ve ever had. I’m quite impressed with your knowledge.”

Donnie: “Thanks, Doc. I want to ask you about your synthetic blood, too. See, I’ve got this friend and it might help him…”

DONNIE’S FOCUSED ON THE MISSION AND HIS BRO. LOOKIT THAT FACE- HE ONLY WANTS TO HELP HIS BRO SO BAD

Donnie: “I can help you! With the Doc’s synthetic blood!”

JSJSTSJSJ- HE’S MORE SAD THAN SCARED! BIG BRO ATTACKING HIM, BUT HIS ONLY THOUGHT BE TO HELP! HE JUST WANTS TO MAKE IT BETTER-

Raph: “I NEVER SAID I WANTED HELP!”

The look on his face- they’re both going to be reliving this in their dreams for weeks. Raph watching the terror overcome his little bro’s face and Donnie feeling all of it. WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAVE TO BE DIFFICULT?!

Donnie: “I’m sorry, Raphael.”

He knows that if he doesn’t do something fast, his big bro is probably gonna bite him and ruin any chances of him fixing this in the future. Genius gotta do what a genius gotta do. 🥺

Yk, the first time I saw this scene, I was mortified that Donnie seemingly sent his brother to his death, because when Raph was charging him, he purposefully ran to this. Which means he planned to drop him.

Then I remembered that vampires can’t die without specific circumstances. Donnie knew that, and therefore knew the fall wouldn’t kill him. Hurt and knock him out? Sure. But not kill.

And when he holds up his staff in preparation to cut the chains, there’s a moment of hesitation and brief struggle as he summons the strength to even do it.

LOOKIT. This does not look like the face of someone who is satisfied with his actions. He’s seriously gonna be haunted by this for a long time 😞

ERGO, CRISIS AVERTED! HE’S STILL GOOD BOI AND BESTEST OF GREEN BEANS! 💜💜💜

Renet: “Is everyone alright?”

Leo: “We’re okay. I think.”

Donnie: “Yeah. Except the lab got trashed. All of the Doc’s synthetic blood is ruined!”

Donnie: “I thought we could use it to save Raph…”

THE WAY HIS VOICE CRACKS

HE HURTS

HE’S JUST TRYING SO HARD TO BRING HIS BIG BRO BACK TO RIGHT MIND AND HIS FAM

Yk, because Leo basically said “We don’t have a brother anymore unless you fix this.”

What? Me? Bitter? Noooooooo 😒

“We’ll think of something else, Dee. At least he’s back with us.”

Good ol’, Mikey. Got his brother’s back. Makin’ him smile. Lil’ bro doing what he does best 🧡💜

There’s so much I like about these Halloween eps. Like vampatello. We needed more vampire Donatello. He needed more lines. Actions. SOMETHING. HE GOT LIKE NO SCREEN TIME, WHY-

🤣 I’m fine. Definitely fine.

Maybe I’ll do a vampatello rant next~

For clarification on my thoughts about the Leo-giving-up topic, please see here. I promise there will never be any turtle bashing on this blog.