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aenaxes · 3 years

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PANSLALSOKAAOOSKWOAMSNA CONGRATS ON 200 BESTIE!! YOU DESERVE ALL THE LOVE, SUPPORT, AND EVEN MORE!! YOU ARE SO TALENTED NOT ONLY WHEN IT COMES TO WRITING BUT ALSO YOUR ART TOO!!! If you wouldn't mind, I would like to request a sfw to nsfw with Hardcase? The song that makes me thing of him every damm time, I have no clue why, is Ribs by Lorde. For pronouns would be she/her and if you would like to know, I'm about 5'2" with blue eyes, mid back length half dyed hair, the colors I have dyed my hair are purple, blue, and pink!! Even if you don't do this, just know that I wouldn't mind and I'm always happy with seeing you write whatever you want because you are so talented and keep me very well fed 😌🤲💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

we'll make it (divine)

[hardcase x f!reader] loving hardcase is something akin to falling in love all over again and again every time he knocks on your door and pulls you into his arms.

warnings: nsfw, outdoor sex, mushy gooey feelings

w/c: 3.0k

a/n: sage my darling 🥺 ily bb mwah <3 i'm going to be completely honest writing this made me fall so so so much more in love with hardcase (bless u for that)

event details here! requests will be open until july 4th!

“Hey!” Hardcase greets you with that very specific sort of glee only he knows, breathless and bright-eyed as your door slides open.

The durasteel parts to reveal him and a shiny keyring lifted eye-level to the blue ink arcing over his temple. The sparse assortment of bronze and silver speeder keys jangle against a polished leather keyfob as he shakes his fist with boyish, giddy joy. It’s one that, you might add, isn’t exactly fitting of Hardcase’s rough-and-tumble style—ergo, keys that don’t belong to him—and one that begets a few questions as you raise a pointed brow in his direction.

Hardcase only grins wider.

But before you can ask if those are—and they definitely are—the keys to Jesse’s planetside speeder, Hardcase shoots his other hand forward and wiggles his fingers between yours, tugging you into the glare of the fluorescent hallway lights and squeezing snug.

“Don’t have much time,” he nods earnestly. “You ready to go?”

“Go where?” you laugh as he stuffs the keys into the pocket of his bomber, tearing his attention away from you if only to shoot a hasty glance over his shoulder. But you’re stepping forwards anyways, crowding up against his side as your door slides shut behind you.

“Out, duh,” Hardcase says with a scrunch of his nose, the telltale twitch of his left cheek that you immediately recognize as a silent, animated, ‘isn’t it obvious?’ He punctuates his response with a quick squeeze over your hand, and his smile grows wider when you tip your head back and laugh.

“How much of a head start do you have on him?”

“I have about a hallway lead,” he says, sheepish if not for the excitement in his voice. “C’mon! He’ll beat my ass if we don’t get moving!”

You might not exactly know what’s going on, because for all the spontaneous and oftentimes questionable visits from Hardcase that you’ve come to expect as part of your regular routine, Hardcase carried with him some mischievous ingenuity to surprise you each and every time. But you can’t help but mirror the contagious delight in his grin as you squeeze his hand and take off behind him.

And it’s the natural thing to do, the ebb and flow of alternating surprises: Hardcase poking into your room well past lights out with Tup’s holo and a bootlegged movie, and you meeting him with two glasses of single malt whiskey before both promptly gagging on your first sips. It had always been like that ever since you had, quite literally, knocked heads with Hardcase in the corridors of your first jedi cruiser assignment, running a bit too fast a bit too far.

A bit of carefree joy, a bit of light, you think as you run past a loose group of shinies, the squeak of your boots blending with your stifled giggling. And when Hardcase turns his head to check if you’re still there (as if he’s not squeezing your hand tight), you see him as he is, a sturdy piton to keep your hold against war’s steep shear.

“Hurry, hurry!” he laughs as you run through the open blast doors. His voice rises above the motions of the hangar bay like the sweetest song, hoarse and free.

You open your mouth to say something along the lines of ‘I’m trying!’ but your mouth fills with the cool air of the Ansion night, sweet with the fragrance of grass, organic and good over the labored exhaust of the base. And instead of words, laughter, bright and loud, bubbles from your chest.

As soon as you’re entering the hangar bay, you already find yourself at its opposite end. Hardcase’s fingertips dig firm into the soft curve of your waist as he hurriedly but no less gently lifts you off your feet and onto the back of Jesse’s bike. With one final look over his shoulder, Hardcase clambers on after you, jamming the keys into ignition and revving the engine to life.

The low thrum of the bike drowns out Jesse’s muted yelling from across the landing as you peel away from the bay. But above Jesse’s fading shouts, above the rumble of eight durasteel cylinders underneath you, all you can hear is Hardcase’s whoops of pure joy when you wrap your arms tight around his waist and press your ear behind his beating heart.

The recycled hangar bay air gives way to something earthy and warm. You breathe deep, even with the speeder ramped up as fast as you think it could possibly go, and your lungs fill with the fading ghosts of sunlight and Hardcase’s cologne as you squeeze your arms around him and imagine the floodlights of the base blinking out behind you.

It’s only when the bike beneath you sputters to a halt and the roar of the engine gives way to the broad silence, curling over the hilltop on the rich and cool midnight winds, that you turn your head and see Hardcase without the giddy thrill of impromptu adventure.

Hardcase hops off the speeder, wobbling once on his feet with a breathless laugh as he hits solid ground. You watch from your perch on the back of the bike as he dusts off his jeans and shoves the keys into the pocket of his GAR bomber. It’s the one that fits one size too small, pulling at the edges of his shoulders as he rises to his full stature under the glow of twin moons.

But when Hardcase turns around to face you, all wind-kissed cheeks and rosy glow that reaches his eyes, the playful tease dies on your tongue.

“Your hair’s a mess,” he says softly as he tilts his head to the side to flash you a smile. He saunters forwards, eyes gleaming with starlight, and finds home between your thighs with a sigh you almost lose to the rising wind.

He shrugs off his bomber, his face scrunching up in the way that makes you both laugh when his arm catches on the tight pull of leather, and he sweeps it behind you to set it snug over your shoulders. And when you’re snug under his jacket, he lifts his hands to your temples, fingertips ghosting over your skin as he gently pushes your tousled hair behind your ears.

You let your eyelids flutter shut, relishing in the careful touch you know he only reserves for you, nothing like the playful roughhousing and loving shoves he exchanges in the barracks. It’s a slow deliberation, callused fingertips tracing over your scalp, sending shivers down your spine as he strokes from your hairline and arcs over the crown of your head, fingertips giving way to his warm palm cupping at the apex of your neck.

And it doesn’t take wide eyes to know that when his motions stutter to a pause, when you hear him inhale through his nose, that he’s watching you with that unnameable warmth: the one that settles deep and wide in his dark eyes, fingertips hovering just close enough over your skin that you feel the heat radiating across that small breadth between you, wondering how he got so lucky, reveling in how he got so lucky.

You know the feeling. (You feel the same.)

You open your eyes, and Hardcase is there. He is there, bathed in the endless starscape above, but all he can see is you, reflected back at you in fond eyes you commit to memory each and every time.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Hardcase whispers. He lifts one hand to rub over the back of his neck and brings the other flush over the curve of your knee with the boyish shyness of twinkling eyes and starstruck joy that had roped you into his gravity the first time he’d stumbled into your path.

“You’d better be,” you snort, tugging his jacket close to your collar as he shifts his palm higher. There is playfulness, just a flash, but it soon gives way to something warm and low in your belly.

The small, slow movements of his thumb over your thigh strike a warmth that chases the midnight wind’s cold, spreading in thrumming waves over your chest. It emboldens you like a neat shot of whiskey, thrown back at once, swallowed down with raucous laughter, the noise and the lights faded away under the open sky, warm, warm, warm, and you reach up to curl your fingers over the hand at his neck, pulling him close.

You lean forwards, touching your brow to his, and just before you slide your eyes shut, you catch the look in his deep brown eyes. It reminds you of the first time you bore witness to the ghostly blue lights of a hyperspace jump, entranced in honest wonder as he stands between your thighs.

Because it’s you. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you—a warm and bright place to call home. It’s always been you. And Hardcase melts into your touch as you brush close.

“‘cause I think I’m in love with you, too.”

He laughs, and it’s a new sound in the night. It’s not quite relief, nor is it that exuberant glee from your sprint down the base halls. When you think back on it, it was understanding, your secret for two.

“I love you,” Hardcase says again, stronger, convicted, something closer to an earnest prayer than words alone as he looks up at you and greets you with the galaxy bright in his eyes. Not a soldier, not one of millions, just him; firm muscle between your thighs, breaths ghosting over your collar, fingertips pressing warmth into your ribs as he snakes his palms under your shirt and pulls you close.

Just yours.

You’re not sure who kisses who first, too full of a rapturous swell that blooms through your chest. But it doesn’t really matter. Not when Hardcase’s lips curl close against yours, wind-chapped and dry but so, so warm as he presses his fingertips into the skin of your back and pulls you close against him.

When his kiss is broken by the cold air, bitter in comparison to his touch, you let a whimper roll from your tongue. Brief as the interruption may be, it’s an interruption all the same.

Hardcase humors you with a quick peck to the corner of your mouth. But he’s quick to make up for that split second of lost time as he throws his leg over the side of the bike, his knees knocking against yours as he takes a seat before you. In his lovestruck daze, he sweeps his arms wide, letting that brief moment of giddy glee pass over his cheeks before he brings his hands over your waist and gently tugs onto his lap.

“Isn’t this Jesse’s bike?” you sigh dreamily when Hardcase thumbs over the crease of your thighs and noses up against the edge of your jaw, sending want snaking up your spine.

“He doesn’t need to know,” Hardcase says with a noise somewhere between dismissal and apathy as he shrugs and rolls his eyes.

“Oh, gross,” and you stick out your tongue as if you aren’t already aching at the thought of straddling his lap and letting him stretch you open under the starscape above.

Hardcase simply shrugs and brings his hand to his chin to offer you his best glamour face in return.

You make quick work of your slacks, kicking them off to the side while Hardcase fumbles with his fly. It’s awkward, if only by the fact that you’re balanced atop each other on the delicate wobble of the hover generator, elbows bumped close in a gentle fumbling that’s simply too genuine to be embarrassing anymore. You’ve done this too many times, shoved up in dark closets and hidden spaces of cruiser corridors, never truly satiated, never having taken your fill.

It’s not awkward—just endearing, you decide as you shift your hips forward and feel the blunt head of his cock dip up between your thighs.

As you sink down onto his lap, the speeder wobbles beneath you, and you fling your arms around him with a half-squeal half-moan, dropping down onto his cock in one smooth movement that sends a shudder through you both.

There is some solace in knowing that if the bike did tip over, that Hardcase would go down with you, his arms tight around your waist as he nuzzles into your chest and laughs. Commitment, you think as your heart bangs up against your ribs, a bit silly and very much dangerous, but commitment that warms you to your core.

“It’s all you, baby,” Hardcase whispers as you finally peel yourself away from him and lean back just enough to catch a full view of his face.

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to it. How could you? How could you assign to the mundane the sweet ease of trust sloped over his brow as he looks up at you like you’re the only thing in the midnight sky, the only thing in his universe?

“Lazyass,” you snort, and he laughs.

But clever quips and snarky remarks are forgotten for the night when you carefully lift your hips, knees quivering over the hard press of the bike, and rock back down onto his lap.

Hardcase fills you in the way only he can, toeing that fine line between easy comfort and the satisfying burn of being split open and squeezed breathless.

You sink down with a whimpering gasp, toes curling when you feel him buck up into the soft spot inside you that whites out your vision. Choking on your own moan, you let your head drop down onto his shoulder, already rendered boneless and pliant around him. You fist tight into the soft fabric of his shirt, cunt spasming around him, and you hold tighter when his hips jerk up again.

“I got you, baby. I got you,” Hardcase mumbles into your shoulder, trailing his lips to the base of your neck and kissing sweet. His arms squeeze around your waist once and anchor you close. And he is there, curled everywhere around you, holding you close as the wind rises broad and far between the grassy plains and the universe overhead.

Where else could you ever want to be?

You want to laugh when you remember Hardcase leaving the pace to you as you feel his palms knead into your hips. But it comes out as a soft sigh when he hefts you halfway off his cock and fucks you down onto him again. All you can do is wrap your arms around his neck and hold as he starts a steady pace.

You won’t last long like this—neither of you will, not when you’re bared to the open sky and yet the closest you’ve ever felt to each other in a long while.

Hardcase breaks your dreamy longing with an uneven jerk of his hips. He’s close, and like muscle memory, he immediately drags one hand over the curve of your thigh to find the soft skin where you part around him. But you’re quick to react to him, grabbing his wrist as you sink down onto him with a soft moan.

“Already feels good,” you gasp, meeting him through the blurry haze of the tears dotting your lashes. You can just make out his wide eyes, and you choke out an unsteady laugh. “Hold me, ‘Case. Just hold me.”

“Okay, yeah,” Hardcase babbles, holding you flush on his lap and coaxing a soft sob from your lips. He brings his arms around your ribs, nestling his cheek against your chest, right above your beating heart. “Anything for you, baby.”

And that’s all it takes.

You come with a whimpering cry, and pleasure, luxuriant and warm, floods through your core as you bow forward and clutch tight to Hardcase’s neck.

It’s too much but only in the best of ways. Hardcase gives you little time to breathe, shedding the last dregs of restraint to press you down hard onto his lap and fuck as deep as he can go. Feeling your own high, Hardcase takes his fill and bends you to his pleasure, fucking into you for himself. And you swear you feel it in your throat as he lifts you up to the blunt ridge of his tip and brings you back down all at once.

“I love you,” Hardcase chants, breathy and low as he spills into your pulsing cunt. Your soft moans twine with his own as a second orgasm shocks through you, pulled over the edge again by his words alone. “I love you, I love you.” And he crushes his lips against yours and swallows your honeyed confessions with his tongue.

You feel him come down from his high with you. Your breathing blends as one until you’re gasping softly against each other, having long since parted and pressed your heads close, brow-to-brow, nose-to-nose. You vaguely remember it meaning something to the good brothers of the GAR, and while you can’t quite place a finger on what it was, all you know right now is that it’s closeness beyond physicality alone. And you feel Hardcase’s breaths level out and fan over the sweat on your collar, all you find yourself able to do is press even closer.

And when the ringing in your ears subsides, when you no longer feel your chests heaving against each other, you slowly open your eyes and find Hardcase already there, dopey-eyed and blinking slowly as he meets your gaze.

“Hey,” you whisper, drawing back.

The wind rises again, cool and sharp as it curls and eddies around you.

“Hey,” he replies. Gingerly, immersed in the sudden stillness, Hardcase lifts his hand from your back and brings his knuckles to your cheek to brush soft over the sweat and bliss over your skin.

“I love you,” you say, and the words curl over your tongue, shy and true all at once, like it’s the first time all over again.

“Yeah?”

You can’t mistake the spark that alights over Hardcase’s eyes as anything but breathless joy, genuine and raw and perfect because no matter how many times you said it, the simple power remained. The vastness of a night sky, stars exploding to life, with no clear centre but him and his soft smile that puts the moonlight to shame.

You love him.

You do.

“Good,” he grins. “‘Cause I love you, too.”

#cries #i yearn for a love like this #and thats the story of how jesse never touched his speeder ever again #hardcase x reader #501st x reader #the clone wars x reader #sageislostinspring #yaej.writes

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kpop-zone · 4 years

Text

Selfish | Jihyo

Hogwarts AU | Enemies to Lovers | “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck this shit. Fuck.”

Wordcount: 3,890

A/N: Sorry if the formatting is weird, but Tumblr won’t let me post anything on my computer, so I had to post this from my phone 😬

“Y/N!”

When Jihyo saw you running through the hallway, she could immediately feel anger seething within her, and she called your name with a sharp tone.

“Oh Jihyo, fancy meeting you here.”

After hearing her voice, you had stopped running abruptly and were now grinning at her sheepishly, pretending like you didn’t know why she was staring you down.

“Stop feigning innocence, Y/N. You’re late. Again! Snape will for sure deduct some points from Gryffindor.”

Jihyo felt like ripping your head off. Of all the Gryffindors you were by far the most reckless one and usually involved when your house lost some points in one way or another. Your favorite activity was to prank Slytherins which always led to particularly hard punishments for your house by Professor Snape, the head of Slytherin. But you just didn’t seem to learn from your mistakes.

“You’re late too though...”

You smirked cheekily, causing her to get even angrier.

“Yeah but I have this opposing to you.”

With her right hand, she pulled out McGonagall’s letter that allowed her to be late for classes if her position as prefect required it and waved it in front of your face.

“That’s unfair.”

You pouted and Jihyo had to suppress her laughter. It was a little unfair indeed. She had simply overslept this morning, but as a prefect, she rarely got punished for anything. But she always told herself that she deserved those benefits. After all, she had to deal with you and your shenanigans almost every day.

“It’s not. I had some...important stuff to do this morning. And now go before we’re even later!”

She lied and you rolled your eyes before starting to run again.

Like expected, both of you arrived late to class and Snape gave you a lecture about the unreliability of Gryffindors for almost fifteen minutes. At the end, he took away some points from Gryffindor with a smug grin tugging on his lips, causing Jihyo to curse you silently. She was sure that Gryffindor had only lost the house cup championships to Slytherin because of you the past years. This year, she had to put a stop to it. Talking with you, however, wasn’t useful. The two of you were in your fifth year already and not once had you listened to her. She had to find another way to keep you in check. The only question was how... The options had thinned out over the years and it seemed like she was only left with one by now. Despite hating you with a passion though, that option seemed to be a little drastic and Jihyo had shied away from pursuing it until now. A fact that changed, however, when she walked into the Gryffindor common room that night.

“That was hilarious...”

“You should have seen Sejoo’s face.”

“I would have never dared to do that.”

Agitated chatter was filling the whole room and Jihyo immediately knew that something bad must have happened; something that most likely was connected with you in some way.

“What happened?”

Jihyo huffed while plopping down next to Jeongyeon on the couch.

“I don’t think you want to know...”

Her friend responded hesitantly and Jihyo buried her face in her hands in desperation.

“Y/N?”

She asked although she already knew the answer to her question.

“Yeah...Let’s just say the incident involved Y/N, Sejoo, the ‘Ossio Dispersimus’ spell and... a 200-points deduction for Gryffindor.”

Hearing the statement of Jeongyeon, Jihyo’s head snapped up and she looked at her classmate bewildered.

“200 POINTS???”

She yelled, causing the surrounding Gryffindors to look at her in shock. But Jihyo couldn’t care less about them. Enough was enough. You could be glad that you weren’t in the room right now, because she was sure that she would kill you if you were standing in front of her in this moment. You had once again ruined the championship for them with your selfishness and she was tired of it. You had to disappear. If you weren’t part of the student body anymore, Gryffindor couldn’t lose points because of you. And there was one easy way to reach that: she needed to get you suspended for the rest of the year and she already knew how.

If there was one person in this school that hated you more than she did, it was Snape. He had tried to get rid of you on several occasions, but your misdeeds had never been severe enough to make him reach his goal. But if she would help a little, she was sure that they could get you out of the way with joined forces. It was a risky scheme, but Jihyo was sure that she could come up with the perfect plan. For two weeks, she martyred her brain to find a way to set you up while protecting her own reputation simultaneously. Coincidentally and much to Jihyo’s chagrin, you didn’t get into any more trouble in those two weeks. On the contrary, you actually stood out for behaving extremely exemplary. You were the first one to appear in every class and the last one to leave because you offered your help to the teachers who often made you stay longer to clean up the classroom. You also didn’t roam around in the hallways anymore after curfew and didn’t even prank the Slytherins. In fact, there were now other Gryffindors that did more mischief than you.

Your good behavior didn’t manage to lift Jihyo’s mood though. If any, it made it worse. Now that she had finally decided to take action against you, you were playing innocent? Of course, her conscience was immediately telling her to stop her plan and to give you another chance. But her brain strongly opposed to that idea. Your good behavior wasn’t enough to erase all the trouble that you had caused the rest of the year. Therefore, she decided to follow through with her plan, even though her bad conscience heavily weighted down on her.

On the due date of her plan, Jihyo went to the library, tightly clasping a letter in her hand while nervously looking around. Being secretive definitely wasn’t her strong suit. As a prefect, she usually advocated honesty and compliance, so everything that she was doing right now went against her principles. She kept telling herself that it was for the good of Gryffindor, but the little voice in her head kept telling her that she was acting out of pure selfishness and it took all of Jihyo’s strength to muffle it. Arriving in the library, she scanned the students and soon found the perfect protagonists of her scheme. There were some first-year Slytherins roaming the aisles, apparently searching for some books to help them solve their Transfiguration homework. Their school supplies were scattered across a table next to one of the huge windows in the library and Jihyo approached it while skimming her letter one more time.

If you want to learn some curses that they don’t teach at school, come to the Forbidden Forest at midnight.

Sincerely,

Y/N L/N

Jihyo cringed at the primitivity of the letter, but she knew that it would work. Slytherins were overachievers with an affinity for illegal activities. They would be too intrigued by the offer to turn it down. After looking around one last time to make sure that no one was watching her, Jihyo dropped the letter on the table of the first years before scurrying off. Her heart was beating out of her chest and she felt like she was close to passing out. She didn’t know how anyone could enjoy going against the rules; she felt absolutely miserable right now. Not being able to be around people any longer, Jihyo wanted to rush off to her dormitory, but before she could leave the library, someone suddenly called her name.

“Jihyo!”

Jihyo didn’t need a second to realize who the voice belonged to and her body froze instantly. Had you caught her red-handed? For a split second, she considered running away, but before she had the chance to, she could already feel your hand on her shoulder. Reluctantly, she turned around with guilt reflecting in her eyes, ready to get yelled at by you.

“Um...I know it’s a little late, but I wanted to apologize to you.”

You mumbled sheepishly and Jihyo’s jaw dropped. That was definitely not what she had expected to hear from you.

“I know that I’m the reason for a lot of your worries and I also know that I took it too far with the incident with Sejoo two weeks back. I’m really sorry about that and I will try my best to make it up to you and the whole house. I’m proud to be a Gryffindor, so I want to make you guys proud in return too from now on.”

You continued while firmly looking into her eyes as if you wanted to convey the seriousness of your words by allowing her a glance into your soul. A glance that Jihyo didn’t want, because she could feel the complete sincerity of your apology and it made her actions even harder to bear. Why did you need to tell her all this now?

“Um...i-it’s a little late for regret now, don’t you think?”

Jihyo stuttered, trying to sound snappish, but her bad conscience forbade her to harm you even more. You didn’t seem to notice the lack of sharpness in her voice though. Instead, you looked like a beaten puppy who was painfully aware of their misdeeds.

“I know and I’m really sorry. I hope you know that this is nothing personal. I’m really grateful that you’re our prefect, no one would be better at this job than you. I’ve never meant to upset you with my actions.”

You smiled sadly, managing to break Jihyo’s heart. What had she done? You didn’t deserve to be suspended and she didn’t deserve your kind words. What person would set somebody up like this? She needed to get that letter back. Panicked, she looked over your shoulder to the table of the first years, but to her sorrow, the Slytherins were nowhere to be seen. They must have left the library already. Looking back at you, she could see that you were anxiously waiting for some kind of response and she would have loved nothing more than to give you the chance to explain yourself. Maybe the two of you had started off on the wrong foot right from the start. But there was no time to talk right now; she needed to get that letter back first.

“I need to go.”

Jihyo exclaimed breathlessly before running out of the library, leaving you behind with a confused expression on your face. Frantically, she ran down the corridor while scanning the passing people. Yellow, blue and red uniforms passed her by but not a single green one.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck this shit. FUCK! Where are those little brats??”

She cursed under her breath as she reached the stairs. She had no idea where the Slytherin common room was and even if she did follow another Slytherin student there, she would not know the passwords to enter. Desperately, Jihyo grasped her hair and turned around her own axis. What was she supposed to do now? The castle was too big to find the first years. Panicked, she walked up and down the corridor, trying to think of a way to prevent the fatal consequences of her plan from happening. Her only chance was to stop the first years from going to the Forbidden Forest tonight. If she could intercept the Slytherins on their way to the meeting point, they couldn’t get caught by a preofessor and the letter wouldn’t come into play. It was the only way to make this right.

Therefore, Jihyo reluctantly went to the Gryffindor common room where she waited on the couch in front of the chimney like on pins and needles. The hours passed painfully slow, but after a while one fellow student after the other left the common room to go to bed until Jihyo was the only one left. 11:45, the clock face read, causing her to jump off the couch and to stumble to the exit. Under no circumstances, she could let the first years slip through her fingers; she needed to stop them. Being allowed to roam the hallways after curfew as a prefect, Jihyo didn’t worry about running into any professors and headed straight to the entrance hall where she was just about to open the heavy double doors when they suddenly swung open without her help.

“Oh Ms. Park, I’m glad to meet you here. Look who I’ve found loitering outside.”

Mr. Filch croaked smugly while dragging two of the first years from the library by their robes.

Shit.

Jihyo tried to fake a smile, but on the inside she felt like dying. How was she supposed to change the course of these events now?

“What a lucky catch. Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Filch. I can take them to their head of house.”

She tried to pull the first years to her side, but Mr. Filch tightly clasped their uniforms.

“It’s ok. I will accompany you. I want to propose some punishments.”

He giggled ugly before shoving the scared Slytherins forward. Reluctantly, Jihyo followed them to Professor Snape’s office while martyring her brain to find a solution for this hopeless situation. But there didn’t seem to be one. Before she knew it, Mr. Filch already knocked on the dark oak door to Snape’s office which swung open a second later to reveal the irritated-looking professor.

“What?”

He grumbled and Mr. Filch snickered silently.

“I’ve found two of your students outside. After curfew.”

Mr. Filch put exaggerated emphasis on his last sentence, causing Professor Snape to grunt angrily before motioning all of them to come inside. He looked at the two first years in disgust, making Jihyo wonder why he was the head of Slytherin in the first place.

“P-professor Snape, we can explain.”

One of the Slytherins stuttered anxiously before pulling out Jihyo’s letter from his robe, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. She couldn’t just rip it out of the younger student’s hands and destroy it, right? That would be too suspicious. Instead, she had to watch how Snape took the letter and started reading it grimly before his face lit up suddenly.

“Y/N...”

He mumbled, looking happier than Jihyo had ever seen him before.

“Let’s pay Professor McGonagall a visit.”

Before anyone could disagree with him, Snape already scurried out of the room and the rest of them had to follow him wordlessly. Jihyo didn’t know who looked more miserable right now. The two first years or herself. All of them slouched their shoulders and regret was written all over their faces. Filch and Snape on the other hand resembled two Cheshire cats, especially after bolting into Professor McGonagall’s office.

“Y/N has endangered the lives of two first years. I plead for an immediate suspension.”

Professor Snape blurted out before giving the other professor the chance to process this ambush. Jihyo had never been more distressed in her life to have a plan of hers work out just like she had wanted it to.

“I beg your pardon?”

Professor McGonagall asked confused, causing Snape to snicker in amusement.

“These two students here have willfully been lured into a life-threatening situation by Y/N L/N, your student.”

He repeated himself while handing over Jihyo’s letter. Silently, the head of Gryffindor read the harmful words before sighing in desperation.

“That is a severe delinquency indeed...but I’m sure there must be an explanation for this.”

Professor McGonagall was quick to jump to your defense, causing Jihyo to draw hope that was destroyed a second later though when Snape scoffed dismissively.

“Yes, there is an explanation. Y/N L/N is a danger for this school, or have you forgotten about the incident with Sejoo only two weeks back? As a responsible head of house, I can’t tolerate such behavior.”

He narrowed his eyes and Professor McGonagall straightened up defensively.

“I haven’t forgotten about that, but if I may remind you, it was your student who used a slur about Ms. Park’s decent here that caused this whole incident.”

She bit back while pointing at Jihyo who flinched in surprise. What did Professor McGonagall mean by that?

An unsettling feeling started to form in Jihyo’s stomach, and she gulped thickly. What if everything wasn’t like it had seemed?

“That still doesn’t justify the endangerment of fellow students.”

Snape tried to distract from the misdeeds of his own student, leading to a stare down between the two heads of houses. The tension in the room increased with every second until the door of the office suddenly swung open. Inside came Filch accompanied by you, causing Jihyo’s eyes to widen. She hadn’t even noticed that the caretaker had left the room.

“I’ve taken the liberty to bring L/N in.”

He snickered before shoving you into the room.

You ended up standing next to Jihyo and looked at her nervously.

“W-what is this about?”

You stuttered, trying to sound relaxed although a slight trembling in your voice gave away that your heart had to be pounding in your chest.

“You have been caught red-handed. It’s over.”

Snape grinned while pointing at the letter in Professor McGonagall’s hand. Confused, you frowned, obviously not being able to know what he was talking about.

“Why would you lure them into the Forbidden Forest?”

The head of Gryffindor asked in disappointment and you looked at Jihyo for help.

“I did what?”

The confusion and fright in your voice was unmistakable and Jihyo hung her head in shame.

“Quit playing innocent Y/N. We have all the proof we need!”

Snape yelled causing you to flinch in shock. In reflex, Jihyo immediately grabbed your hand and you squeezed it tightly.

“You’re going down for this! You lured two first years into the Forbidden Forest. They could have died if Mr. Filch wouldn’t have found them in time. I will not let this go until you are suspended for the rest of the year.”

With every word more tears started to pool in your eyes and Jihyo couldn’t manage to avert her gaze from you. You looked so helpless right now and all she wanted to do was to save you from this horrible place.

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about. I have never seen this letter before. Why would I Iure first years into the Forbidden Forest??”

Your voice cracked in desperation, but Snape just kept on accusing you aggressively. After all, you had a history of pranking Slytherins. Jihyo couldn’t imagine how wronged you had to feel right now, and she gently rubbed your hand with her thumb, not knowing whether she was trying to calm you or herself down by doing so. She knew that she could end all this by admitting that it had been her who had left the letter, but despite being a Gryffindor, she wasn’t brave enough to do that. How was she supposed to explain it? How would she be supposed to ever look into your eyes again?

“That’s enough. We’ve understood your point, Professor.”

Professor McGonagall eventually ended Snape’s rant before looking at you with a sad face.

“I see how this incident is out of character for you, Y/N. Nevertheless, I have to agree with Professor Snape, the evidence is overwhelming. Therefore...you are hereby suspended until we can prove your innocence.”

Your jaw dropped, hearing these words from the head of Gryffindor and you looked at Jihyo as if she was your last hope. But she wasn’t strong enough to save you. Instead, she flung her arms around your neck and pulled you against her body.

“I’m so sorry.”

She sobbed, not being able to hold back her own tears anymore. Suddenly, however, she could feel how you started to stroke her back soothingly.

“Hey, it’s ok. This is not your fault.”

You tried to calm her, apparently not suspecting her betrayal in the slightest.

“Y/N, let’s go to your dormitory to get your belongings.”

Professor McGonagall asked you and you pulled away. With a light smile tugging on your lips, you reached out and gently wiped away the tears that were streaming down Jihyo’s cheeks.

“Don’t be sad, your job is actually going to be a lot easier from now on. Although I really would have loved to celebrate our victory in the championship together at the end of the year.”

You chuckled sadly to cheer her up before trying to turn around to leave but Jihyo held on to you and crashed you into her body again. She couldn’t bear to see you cheering her up any longer. Not after what she had done.

“It was me. I wrote the letter.”

She whispered into your ear while new tears streamed down her cheeks.

In disbelief, you separated your bodies and stared at her with betrayal written all over your face, causing her to avert her gaze. Her guilt was squeezing all air out of her lungs and she waited impatiently for you to expose her. This charade was unbearable.

“And here I was thinking that you were starting to like me back... What a foolish thought.”

You chuckled, causing Jihyo’s head to snap up. Slowly, you started to back away from her while grabbing your forehead in disbelief and Jihyo shakily reached out for you.

“Y/N...”

The words in Jihyo’s mind were all jumbled and the only thing she could utter was your name. Why weren’t you yelling at her? Why weren’t you standing up for your innocence? Your calmness and the disappointed look in your face was slowly killing her. She needed you to punish her for her betrayal, but you didn’t show the slightest inclination to do so.

“No, it’s ok. Don’t worry about it.”

You mumbled, still seeming to be dazed due to her confession.

“Y/N, what are you doing? You should expose me...”

Jihyo shook your shoulder lightly, but you only smiled at her.

“Yeah you’re probably right. But I won’t. I could never hurt you like that.”

You shrugged while trying to remove her hand from her shoulder but Jihyo only tightened her grasp.

“What are you talking about, Y/N?”

She furrowed her brow in confusion although the blurry picture in her head was slowly starting to get clearer, revealing a truth that she would have preferred to keep ignoring.

“I genuinely hope that you’re happy now, Jihyo. That’s all I ever wanted. You should look out for Sejoo and his gang though. They don’t like to see a muggle-born in such a powerful position and I don’t know what they will do now that I’m not going to be there anymore.”

With that, you removed her hand from your shoulder and walked up to Professor McGonagall who looked at you apologetically before giving you a sign to leave the room. One last time, you turned around and nothing hurt Jihyo more than to see that the sadness in your eyes still couldn’t manage to erase the affection that reflected in them. She had been so blind all this time...

Who would have thought that she had been the selfish one all along?

#kpop #girl group #girl group scenario #kpop scenario #Jihyo #park jihyo #drabble game #drabble #Jihyo drabble #jihyo scenario #jihyo imagine #twice #twice imagine #twice scenario #twice drabble

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blackwoolncrown · 3 years

Link

The defining feature of conversation is the expectation of a response. It would just be a monologue without one. In person, or on the phone, those responses come astoundingly quickly: After one person has spoken, the other replies in an average of just 200 milliseconds.

In recent decades, written communication has caught up—or at least come as close as it’s likely to get to mimicking the speed of regular conversation (until they implant thought-to-text microchips in our brains). It takes more than 200 milliseconds to compose a text, but it’s not called “instant” messaging for nothing: There is an understanding that any message you send can be replied to more or less immediately.

But there is also an understanding that you don’t have to reply to any message you receive immediately. As much as these communication tools are designed to be instant, they are also easily ignored. And ignore them we do. Texts go unanswered for hours or days, emails sit in inboxes for so long that “Sorry for the delayed response” has gone from earnest apology to punchline.

People don’t need fancy technology to ignore each other, of course: It takes just as little effort to avoid responding to a letter, or a voicemail, or not to answer the door when the Girl Scouts come knocking. As Naomi Baron, a linguist at American University who studies language and technology, puts it, “We’ve dissed people in lots of formats before.” But what’s different now, she says, is that “media that are in principle asynchronous increasingly function as if they are synchronous.”

The result is the sense that everyone could get back to you immediately, if they wanted to—and the anxiety that follows when they don’t. But the paradox of this age of communication is that this anxiety is the price of convenience. People are happy to make the trade to gain the ability to respond whenever they feel like it.

While you may know, rationally, that there are plenty of good reasons for someone not to respond to a text or an email—they’re busy, they haven’t seen the message yet, they’re thinking about what they want to say—it doesn’t always feel that way in a society where everyone seems to be on their smartphone all the time. A Pew survey found that 90 percent of cellphone owners “frequently” carry their phone with them, and 76 percent say they turn their phone off “rarely” or “never.” In one small 2015 study, young adults checked their phones an average of 85 times a day. Combine that with the increasing social acceptability of using your smartphone when you’re with other people, and it’s reasonable to expect that it probably doesn’t take that long for a recipient to see any given message.

“You create for people an environment where they feel as though they could be responded to instantaneously, and then people don’t do that. And that just has anxiety all over it,” says Sherry Turkle, the director of the Initiative on Technology and Self at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

It’s anxiety-inducing because written communication is now designed to mimic conversation—but only when it comes to timing. It allows for a fast back-and-forth dialogue, but without any of the additional context of body language, facial expression, and intonation. It’s harder, for example, to tell that someone found your word choice off-putting, and thus to correct it in real-time, or try to explain yourself better. When someone’s in front of you, “you do get to see the shadow of your words across someone else’s face,” Turkle says.

In last month’s viral New Yorker short story “Cat Person,” a young woman embarks on a failed romantic relationship with a man she meets at the movie theater where she works. They only go on one date in the story; they get to know each other primarily over text. When the affair ends messily, it reveals not only how the bubble of romantic expectations can be popped by reality’s needle, but also how weak digital communication is as a scaffolding on which to build an understanding of another person.

In an interview, the story’s author, Kristen Roupenian, said the piece was inspired by “the strange and flimsy evidence we use to judge the contextless people we meet outside our existing social networks, whether online or off.” Indeed, even for the people we already know, we increasingly rely on contextless forms of communication. This puts an unusually large burden on the words themselves (and maybe some emojis) to convey what is meant. And each message, and each pause in between messages, takes on outsize importance.

“Text messages become marks on rocks to be analyzed and sweated over,” Turkle says.

It’s not always easy to figure out what someone meant to convey by using a certain emoji, or by waiting three days to text you back. Different people have different ideas about how long it’s appropriate to wait to respond. As Deborah Tannen, a linguist at Georgetown University, wrote in The Atlantic, the signals that are sent by how people communicate online—the “metamessages” that accompany the literal messages—can easily be misinterpreted:

Human beings are always in the business of making meaning and interpreting meaning. Because there are options to choose from when sending a message, like which platform to use and how to use it, we see meaning in the choice that was made. But because the technologies, and the conventions for using them, are so new and are changing so fast, even close friends and relatives have differing ideas about how they should be used. And because metamessages are implied rather than stated, they can be misinterpreted or missed entirely.

This metamessage opacity spawns thousands of other text messages a year, as people enlist their friends to help interpret exactly what their romantic interest meant by a certain turn of phrase, or whether a week-long radio silence means they’re being ghosted. (The New Yorker parodied this collaborative textual analysis in a video in which a group of women gather, war-room style, to answer the question “Was It a Date?”)

Features intended to add clarity—like read receipts or the little bubble with the ellipses in iMessage that tells you when someone is typing (which is apparently called the “typing awareness indicator”)—often just cause more anxiety, by offering definitive evidence for when someone is ignoring you or started to reply only to put it off longer.

* * *

But just because people know how stressful it can be to wait for a reply to what they thought would be an instant message doesn’t mean they won’t ignore others’ messages in turn.

Sometimes people don’t respond as a way of deliberately signaling they’re annoyed, or that they don’t want to continue a relationship. Turkle says sometimes taking a long time to write back is a way of establishing dominance in a relationship, by making yourself look simply too busy and important to reply.

But oftentimes, people are just trying to manage the quantity of messages and notifications they receive. In 2015, the average American was receiving 88 business emails per day, according to the market research firm Radicati, but only sending 34 business emails per day. Because—who has the time to respond to 88 emails a day? Maybe someone isn’t responding because they’ve realized the interruption of a notification negatively affects their productivity, so they’re ignoring their phone to get some work done.

I find myself ignoring or procrastinating even important messages, and ones I want and intend to respond to. I had to create a bright red “Needs Response” email label to battle my own “delayed response” problem. I regularly read texts, think “I’ll respond to that later,” and then completely forget about it. Working memory—the brain’s mental to-do list—can only hold so much at once, and when notifications get crammed in with shopping lists and work tasks, sometimes it springs a leak.

“A lot of the time what’s happening is people have five conversations going on, and they just can’t really be intimate and present with five different people,” Turkle says. “So they kind of do a triage, they prioritize, they forget. Your brain is not a perfect instrument for processing texts. But it will be interpreted as though it really was a conversation, and so you can hurt people.”

* * *

Still, even though instant written communication can be overwhelming and anxiety-inducing, people prefer it. Americans spend more time texting than talking on the phone, and texting is the most frequent form of communication for Americans under 50.

While texting is popular worldwide, Baron, of American University, thinks that a strong preference for communication that can be easily ignored is a particularly American attitude. “Americans have far fewer manners in general in their communication than a lot of other societies,” she says. “The second issue is a real feeling of empowerment. I think we have become a version of power freaks, not just control freaks.”

In a survey Baron conducted in 2007 and 2008 of students in several countries including the United States, the things that people said they liked most about their phones were often related to control. One American woman said her favorite thing was “Constant communication when I want it (can also shut it off when I don’t).”

“What I have seen in this country, and I don’t know if it’s a national trait, is people wait until they think they have the perfect thing to say, as though relationships can be managed by writing the perfect thing,” Turkle says. “And I think that is something we pay a very high cost for.”

In Baron’s survey, people also mentioned feeling controlled by their phones—bemoaning how dependent they were on the devices, and how the constant connectivity made them feel obligated to respond.

But texts and emails don’t create as big of an obligation as phone calls, or a face-to-face conversation. When young adults are interviewed about why they don’t like making phone calls, they cite a distaste for how “invasive” they are, and a reluctance to place that burden on someone else. Written instant messages create a smokescreen of plausible deniability if someone doesn’t feel like responding, which can be relieving for the hider, and frustrating for the seeker.

More than anything, what the age of instant communication has enabled is the ability to deal with conversation on our own terms. We can respond right away, we can put it off for two days, or never get around to it at all. We can manage several different conversations at once. “Sorry, I was out with friends,” we might say, as an excuse for not texting someone back. Or, “Sorry, I just need to text this person back real quick,” we might say while out with friends.

As these things become normal, it creates an environment where we are only comfortable asking for slivers of people’s distracted time, lest they ever obligate us to give them our full and undivided attention.

#technology #tech #text #relationships #articles #digital media #social media

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oh-so-scenarios · 4 years

Text

ᴛʜᴇ sᴇʀᴇɴᴅɪᴘɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪɴɢs...♠| 12

⤖ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴀs ᴛɪᴍᴇ ғᴏʀ sᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇs? Jᴜɴɢ Hᴏsᴇᴏᴋ ɪs ᴛᴏᴏ ʙᴜsʏ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏғ ʜɪs ᴍᴀғɪᴀ ɴᴇᴛᴡᴏʀᴋ. Hᴇ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇʀᴇɴᴅɪᴘɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ʜɪs sᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍ…ʀɪɢʜᴛ?

⤖ Mᴀғɪᴀ Lᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ Hᴏsᴇᴏᴋ x ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, sᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇ!ᴀᴜ

Warnings: Violence, mentions of death, blood, Smut.

This is a Hoseok POV recap chapter. Everything moves in order, it starts back at their first meeting all the way to chapter 11. A lot of time jumps.

****Please ignore any errors! (Word Count: 15.6K)

Previous | Next ◀ ▶ Series Index | Masterlist

Hoseok’s POV:

What the fuck? What the fuck? I’m certain that the disdain wasn’t visible on my face, but my injuries were the least of my problem. My eyes stayed focused on the medical degree that hung up on her wall, avoiding her curious gaze.

This week has been a shit fest and it’s gotten worse.

I let Yoongi convince me that Jungkook was able to handle a heavy mission on his own. I don’t know why I allowed myself to be swayed. I knew he couldn’t handle it. Jungkook has the muscle, but lacks the ability to hide what he's thinking. His face gives a way his emotions, and I should have known better.

We lose contact with him, only to hear some woman say she’s taking him to the hospital? Oh great. I was already trying to gather a plan to explain why this 22 year old man was shot in the side. Along with questions as to why the CEO of Jung Inc was the guardian of this man. It would all unravel as the noisy police dig into Jungkook’s past.

They’d try to find his parents, and ultimately trace it back to my father. I could see it all unfolding in my head.

We were left in the dark all night, calling different hospitals to see if that idiotic female had checked him into the ER. We called every hospital within a 60 mile radius and came up empty. I couldn’t sleep that night, worried that our youngest Jungkook had gotten himself into trouble.

I don’t underestimate women. They are capable of just as much damage as any man, they’re just sneaky about it. I've learned from experience.

At 3 in the morning, Jimin gets a call from Jungkook’s phone and it’s the same woman. She’s a surgeon. Jungkook is one lucky man. I didn’t want much contact with whoever she was. But she did save Jungkook. I decided to give her some money, since she was smart enough to ask no questions.

But the mission we entered today went left, having things get ugly. We were outnumbered and unprepared, leaving us with injuries. We’re usually prepared enough to tackle issues without violences, but since Seok’s mafia presence has been more low-key, other smaller illegal organizations are acting up.

I spoke to her for less than 30 seconds, but vaguely remember the tugging of the red string wrapped around my pinky. I groaned my eye at the thing, remembering the few times it’s done that in the past.

I don’t have time for such foolish things. Soulmate? Who could be cursed enough to be matched with them? The appearance of soulmates almost 200 years ago is explained as something wonderful. A guide from whatever power is above us. I used to believe that bullshit. When I was younger, the thought of a soulmate made my heart race.

I’d gaze at my parents with twinkling eyes, knowing that I was a product of...love. True love. I hold some resentment and disgust for my younger self. The signs were clearly there. That my mother wasn’t happy, and that my dad was sick.

I was too focused on my childish things. That was thanks to my mother. I could vomit mentioning any sort of thanks to that woman, but she was the one holding off my father’s training to take his place.

My older sister, who I haven’t spoken to in years, was sent off to leave with a distant family member. Who knows what she’s up to.

I see now that the appearance of soulmates was simply the universe’s sick attempt at regaining control over humans. I watch people hopelessly drop everything for this stranger, simply because a red string is linking them together. That won’t be me.

Why do I have to put up with a person because some unseen force decided that we are good together? The stories of meeting your soulmate, falling in love, getting married and starting a family are just that, stories. Such a thing isn’t possible for me. I can barely keep the company of real friends, who am I to keep a lover?

I glanced at her from the corner of my eyes, seeing her rushing back into the living room with a black bag. She starts laying out her tools, and despite the slight shaking of her hands, she seemed to know what she was doing.

She was afraid. As she should be. But we were desperate. We never had the need for a doctor, since we avoided getting hurt. But here we are. Our youngest Jungkook was worried, staring at his injured hyungs with wide eyes.

So when he said he knew where we could go, I should have known I would end up at the apartment of the crazy surgeon that was eager to save the injured boy she found in an alleyway.

The tugging of the red string when I spoke to her on the phone now makes sense.

I averted my gaze to the white ceiling, trying to figure out what I was going to do. She’s seen our faces, and she knows we’re criminals. I don’t want to deal with another dead body. Plus she lives in an apartment building. I don’t know how close she is with her neighbors, but with an important job such as a surgeon, her absence would be noticed quickly.

“So who is going first?” She calls out after finishing her set up. When I look at her, she’s staring at the different faces in the room. Her eyes don’t match the tremble in her voice. She looks...uninterested? And annoyed.

“You’re not going to ask any questions?” I ask. She sighs, being the one to avoid eye contact this time. She fidgets to slip gloves on, and dipping her tool in alcohol.

“I don’t have time to ask questions.” She says harshly, only meeting my gaze for a second.

Though she’s asking for little information, the guys begin to open their big mouths, giving out more information than needed. They’re digging me into a bigger hole. When it’s out that we’re criminals, the look of dread is hard to miss. I see the wheels turning in her head, and I wonder if she’s thinking of contacting the police.

She can’t be that stupid right?

Without another word, she calls Yoongi forward first and starts to tend to his wounds. I hiss quietly as the fabric of my shirt rubs against the cut on my chest. The blood had dried, but a slight movement caused a tearing pain.

I keep my eyes on her while she works. Soulmate huh? I look down at the side of my pinky and notice her initials suddenly printed there.

The universe did a trash job. A doctor of all people? It’s like a healed wound is being reopened and left to bleed. The longer I stared at her, the angrier I got. At least she’s not ugly, but a doctor? Surgeon?

I didn’t realize I was glaring at her till Jin hit my leg, making me look his way. He didn’t speak, but the question in his eyes were clear. I could only scoff, before closing my eyes to try to relax.

I heard shuffling of feet as she patched up the next person. She’d run into the kitchen with her tools, do some type of clearing process and come back with clean gloves and tools. When she leaves again, Taehyung leans towards me.

“Boss, what are you going to do about her?” He keeps his voice low.

“I say that we hire her.” Jungkook adds, making my eyes snap open. I glare at him but he only grins back.

“Hire her?” I repeat.

“That’s really smart. She could be our personal doctor? Didn’t you say that you wanted to get into black market surgeries? Now you can. That way we could keep any eye on her.” Jin added, giving Jungkook a friendly pat on the head.

Keep an eye on her? I think for a moment.

“I mean…” Jungkook trails off, “you weren’t thinking of killing her were you? She did save my life.” He stares at me with big doe eyes. I close my eyes again, leaning back to relax.

“She’s going to help you next boss, you’re the only one left.” Jimin whispers as her footsteps approach us.

~!~

I march into the headquarters with the others trailing behind me. I set my gun down on the round table and look towards the white board. The plan of our failed mission written in blue marker.

“So that went to shit.” I mutter to myself, searching for the white board eraser. I am not one to dwell on a failure like that for long. We need to move onto the next mission. As I wiped off the board, the hushed words of the guys behind me were hard to ignore.

“What? Do you have something to say?” I snap, turning around to face them. The whispers stopped as everyone stared in silence

“So...your soulmate is a doctor.” Jimin starts, the smile he was trying to hide breaking through. Another silence followed Jimin’s words before Namjoon chimed in.

“That’s ironic, but she’s cute. Good for you boss.”

My bitter chuckle doesn’t stop the onslaught of congratulations. I couldn’t tell if they were joking or not but I wasn’t in the mood.

“Were you guys not in her apartment just 30 minutes ago? You know...when I told her I didn’t want any sort of relationship with her? I made it clear that all I can offer her is work.”

For guys who looked battered up an hour ago, their humor was still intact. They knew better than expect happiness from me for something as stupid as soulmates.

“I think it’s cute,” Jimin voices, smiling widely at me.

“I don’t really care.” Yoongi said calmly, “As long as she doesn’t get in the way of work, it doesn’t matter.”

“Exactly.” I agreed with Yoongi, “I’ll just have her work for us. She’s already seen our faces and I can’t have her telling anyone about what happened tonight.”

“But boss,” Namjoon said seriously, pulling out a chair to sit at the circular table. His eyes were serious, and I crossed my arms over my chest, knowing that Namjoon was going to drill me with some serious concerns.

His brows furrowed and he looked down at the table for a moment as the others also took seats at the circular table.

“Did you hear bells?” He asked, looking at me with raised eyebrows.

I blink at the unexpected question, my mind moving too slow to process what he said.

“What?”

“Did you hear bells when you saw Y/n? They say that if you hear bells when you meet your soulmate, it’s a true love match! That the universe did it’s best work when putting you and your soulmate together.”

I don’t answer him, searching for the dry erase marker to start the plans for the next mission.

“I guess he didn’t.” Namjoon says under his breath. But as I write out the information on the board, a heavy feeling sets on my shoulders.

So I wasn’t going crazy when those bells were ringing in my ears?

True love? Gross and impossible.

~!~

“Y/n works at Seoul Sky hospital?” I exclaim, staring at the papers Namjoon set on my desk. I had Namjoon dig up some information on Y/n. She was hesitant about taking the offer I laid down, so I need some type of leverage. Maybe she has a criminal record or something she is hiding.

Of course a woman like her is squeaky clean. She comes from a pretty good family. Her mother was a doctor and her father was a successful businessman. Not crazy money but better than most people. She graduated high school early and went right into pre-med. Grades are good, the record is clean and not deep dark secrets.

But she works at Seoul Sky hospital. That poor excuse of a hospital where my father passed. It’s perfect. I could keep an eye on her from work.

“When is the next chairman’s meeting?” I ask with a smirk on my lips. Namjoon’s ears perk up and he stares back at me with wide eyes. He ran his fingers through his hair, stifling a laugh.

“You’re actually going to attend one? You said you wanted to be an anonymous investor?”

I didn’t answer Namjoon right away, plotting just what I was going to do when I got to the hospital.

“Call whoever you need to call and tell them I’m coming to visit the hospital tomorrow. They should have all preparations ready and I’d like to meet with the other directors to discuss the additional funding.” I state, trying to hide the smirk playing on my lips.

Oh this is gonna be fun!

And just like I thought, it was fun. I strolled through the hospital, ignoring the long speeches each department head was giving me. I didn’t care. I don't care about this hospital or any of the damn doctors. If I could burn this place to the ground, I would. The land could be used for something more useful.

Not a hospital that seems to hire incompetent doctors who allow emotions to cloud the work they are doing. I became a director for this hospital in hopes that my mother and that stupid man she ran off with, would return. I don’t know what I will do when they return, but it wouldn’t be a warm welcome.

We walked through the hallways, patients and nurses all staring as we walked. My instructions of a casual hospital tour were ignored, seeing as I had all the department heads following behind me. Yes, I was tuned out to whatever this man was saying.

I think his name is Dr. Lee, I could hear the soft whispers of those behind me.

“He’s handsome isn’t he?” One female doctor says.

“I know right? He seems so intense and studious. Being loved by a man like that is the best.” The other one says.

Namjoon chuckles form beside me, also hearing the nonsense that those two were saying. I throw a glare at him before bringing my attention back to Dr. Lee.

“Do you think I should try to make conversation with him?” The same doctors whisper. I roll my eyes.

God, I hope they don’t. I am not one for aimless conversation. The last thing I want to do is date a doctor. Actually I don’t want to date at all. My work has become my everything and I can’t see myself making room for anything else. But I can only speak for myself.

I wonder how the guys feel about this. If they want to get married, have a family. I haven’t heard them say anything about such things. Hell, I don’t think they’ve even had girlfriends. I don’t expect them to share such information. Years ago I told them to keep personal life things away from work. I didn’t want to hear anything about their personal lives.

I don’t want to try to rebuild the friendships we had. It’s too late. They were forced to stay by my side, so I’m sure all that’s left is animosity. They do pretty well hiding it, but I can’t say I’m integrated into their friend group.

You’d think we’d be closer with how often we are together.

My thoughts stopped short as an already familiar figure came into view. She was standing there with a co-worker of hers. Jennie. I did some digging on those close to her here in Korea. It seems that Jennie is her only friend.

Dr. Lee looked over at the two women, and back at me. The other doctors did the same, my gaze on them catching attention. I noticed Namjoon clear his throat, but my lips turned up into a smirk. I walked ahead of Dr. Lee, closer to Y/n and Jennie.

“Gossiping is more fun in person!” Jennie exclaims.

“Oh is it?” I break into their chit chat. Both women grow stiff at my voice, and turn around to bow at a 90 degree angle. I keep my eyes on Y/n who hasn’t recognized me yet.

“Gossiping is what the doctors of Seoul Sky do?” I question.

I ignore Dr. Lee’s protest to me words and watch Y/n stand straight, only to gawk at me with wide eyes. Oh, her reactions are always so fun.

She takes a small step back, bumping into Jennie who looks lost. I watch her eyes dart over my face, the concern flashing in her eyes is clear. Even at a time like this, you’re being caring? It was easy to tell that she was checking for the cuts that were on my face 5 days ago.

But with how she cared to the wounds, there shouldn’t be much scarring. A little powder covered them right up. I wasn’t going to appear in front of people looking cut up.

She looks more official in her white doctor’s coat. I could tell she was official when I saw the work she did on Jungkook, but seeing her in that white coat felt different. A bubbling in my chest made me feel angry at her. That white coat makes me even angrier.

But I kept the smile on my face, aware of the eyes watching our tense exchange.

Dr. Lee introduced the two doctors to me, and had some pointless banter with Jennie while Y/n tried her hardest to keep the glare off her face.

I stared back at her, hoping that my message was loud and clear.

You can’t run from me.

~!~

“She’s not going to call.” Namjoon said as we walked into the headquarter’s lobby.

I give him a pointed look, slipping off my green suit coat and draping it onto one of the chairs at the circle table.

Jungkook, Yoongi and Taehyung also sat at the circular table. Each person was occupied by something else. Taehyung was reading a book, Yoongi typed away on his laptop while Jungkook stared at his dimly lit phone screen.

Jungkook only looks up from his phone for a second, telling me that he’s distracted by some game. His mouth was gaping open as he concentrated.

“She’ll call. I’m sure she’s a smart girl.” I said to Namjoon, unbuttoning my cuffs and rolling up the sleeves.

“Who are you talking about?” Yoongi questioned, his tone showing little to no interest.

“Who else would he be talking about?” Taehyung jeers before snickering, “When was the last time Boss talked about a woman that wasn’t just a one night stand?” Taehyung grins at me and goes back to reading.

“He snatched her up, pulled her into an empty room and pushed her up against a wall.”

“O,” Jungkook coos, “kinky.”

I roll my eyes at the youngest’s cheeky smile.

“She’s dragging this out. I already have the operation place set up, and I’m already searching for her assistant. I gave her 2 days. If she’s smart, she’ll call. It would be a pain to get rid of her.”

Jungkook sets his phone on the table, a pout of defeat playing on his lips.

“Why don’t you just leave her be? I don’t think she’ll tell anyone. Plus you can just keep an eye on her at the hospital? There is no need to drag her into black market work.”

Everyone looks at Jungkook as he shrugged after expressing his opinion, ‘You would just be exposing her to more stuff if you bring her into work with you.”

I stared at Jungkook in silence, not sure what to say. He has a point. I could just keep an eye on her from the hospital. I know where she leaves, I know where she works and I know all her friends. She can't escape.

So...why do I need her here again?

“It’s okay if you just want her close, we won’t judge you.” Yoongi says in the same uninterested tone.

“It’s not that.” I defended myself.

Yoongi shrugs in a sluggish manner, “It’s okay if you want to keep her around. She’s your soulmate after all.”

I glare at Yoongi for a moment, “I’ve had black market surgeries on my to-do list. So I’m killing two birds with one stone.”

“There’s no urge to be near Y/n? You know that soulmate connection?” Taehyung asks, folding the page he was reading and closing the book.

I feigned some deep thought before shaking my head. Connection? I didn’t feel anything towards her. I was surprised to see that red string connect to someone else, and after that was a sense of dread and anger.

“I think I’ve had better connections with brick walls.”

The fake hisses of pain are followed by comments.

“Heartless!”

“Ouch!”

I walked around to one of the smaller desks that were across the room. I grabbed a familiar grey folder and placed it on the circle table, opening it to see what was in there.

The folder was thick, and had things I had to take care of. No matter how much work we did, I don’t think there’d ever be a day this folder would be empty.

I remember thinking why was my father always so busy? He always said he had no time, and at a certain point, I thought he was lying. I often misunderstood it being an excuse to avoid doing something with me.

My father was present in my life, and he was a kind man. Too kind. He taught me to give people chances, pertaining to things outside of work. Although my father wasn’t obvious about his work, I’d say he was more violent.

He was harsher. The slightest glimpse of weakness would be eliminated. When it came to work, he didn’t allow room for mistakes or failure. Yet, he was caring and understanding with the family, and all things outside of work. He stupidly trusted my mother 100%. Would tell me they were the world’s best example of true love.

Guess he and my other were on different pages.

I scanned over all the items that needed to be completed. The Charity Gala robbery, recapture of money from a bad trade off, some drug trades in Japan and a cop that has been snooping around asking about Seok. Those are the main focus as of now. At least those are the things that will require either my attention or the whole team.

Each one of the guys have things they do separately. Those usually go smoothly.

I groan and run my fingers through my hair, “Where is Jimin?” I ask.

“He finished that one debt collection and headed home. He said he was done for the week.” Namjoon said.

“Call him and Seokjin up. Tomorrow is gonna be a busy day. We’re gonna go take care of the Ryu deal, and if Y/n is as predictable as I think she is, she’ll call me tomorrow.”

“Or she’ll run off to a different country.” Namjoon says under his breath.

I almost chuckle at the comment, knowing Y/n couldn’t be that idiotic.

~!~

“Mr. Ryu, I really don’t want to do this!” I yelled as I tucked my gun into the waistband of my pants. I stepped over the dead and injured bodies of his men, while Jimin and Yoongi flanked me, with their guns pointed at the older man.

He stood with his back pressed against the wall of his own hideout. They’re a small organization with strong connections to Russia. I took a risk working with them, and it blew up in my face. The trade off is what landed Jungkook with a bullet grazing his side. It was supposed to be a one man hand off, but Mr. Ryu brought all his men and ran off with the money.

He had to know we’d come for him sooner or later.

We were able to take out all his men in a silent manner. He let his guard down, not truly knowing who he was messing with. He didn’t know he was dealing with Seok’s organization. It was a test of loyalty and he failed. Blood was starting to pool on the concrete floor. Harsh and shallow breaths from a few men who hadn’t died yet was all that could be heard.

“I have the money! I’ll get you the money!” His pleas echo through the warehouse, and I could hear the way it’s straining his vocal chords. His thin grey hair was unruly. Evidence of his fingers racking through it repeatedly. His suit is disheveled and stained.

I stopped my slow walk towards the man, leaving me about 5 yards from him. Yoongi and Jimin didn’t stop their slow parade with their guns up.

I sighed, “This could have been easier if you did that the first time!”

“Boss!” Someone calls from behind us. I don’t have to turn around to know it’s Namjoon.

“We found the money! It’s all there.” Mr. Ryu doesn’t leave my line of sight, but I nod in response.

“See!” Mr. Ryu rushes out desperately, “The money is there! Take it! It was never taken out of the suitcase!”

I click my teeth and fake disappointment, “I don’t leave loose ends Mr. Ryu. You’ve already seen my face.”

His body trembles in fear, his face growing red with every second, “Who are you?!”

“Why tell a dead man such important information?” I mutter taking a step forward when my phone dings. I pause for a moment, kicking myself for not silencing it.

I don’t miss the eye roll from Yoongi, “Gosh boss, you can’t silence your phone?”

“He’s been waiting for a call from his lovely Y/n,” Jimin jokes, re-gripping his gun.

I dug into my pocket to see a number I didn’t recognize texting me.

[8:34 PM] Unknown: Hello ...?

“Of course he answers it at a time like this!” Seokjin shouts. It seems he’s standing further behind us with Namjoon.

“Now is not the time!”

It has to be Y/n. This is my personal phone number, and she’s the only one who’d have it.

[?:?? PM] Hoseok: Be at this address in 20 minutes.

Due to the bad service, the text message takes it’s time sending. I shove it back into my pocket and stride towards the man.

“Let’s be quick about this old man.” I slip my fingerless leather gloves tighter on my hand.

“Please don’t!” He slides down the wall and lands on his butt so he’s sitting. I kick him in the gut, and he hunches over. I take the chance to place one hand on his forehead, and another on his chin. I swiftly made a turning motion, snapping his neck.

His body goes limp and falls over.

“Let’s go.” I call out just as my phone dings again. We start leaving the warehouse, and I dig into my pocket.

[8:43 PM] Unknown: Could we do this tomorrow?

Does she think this is a hair appointment? Does she not understand what she is getting into?

~!~

I watch Y/n move around the operation room and I think I’m seeing excitement? She giggles and let her fingers graze the tables. Her eyes are lighting up with joy. What a weird one. But this is the first time I’ve seen just an expression on her face.

“This is the type of stuff you get excited about?” I tease.

To my surprise, she smiles at me. A genuine smile. It’s like the fear from earlier was non existent. Is she not worried being alone with me? She doesn’t know anything about me! I could be an awful guy, well I am a bad guy, but I’ll never force myself on someone.

She doesn’t know that, but here she is. Leaving herself open and vulnerable to me.

“We all can’t be making big money like you, Hoseok. How can you live life if you can’t appreciate the small things?”

She wasn’t expecting a reply from me, seeing as she turned her attention back to the operation room. She starts rummaging through the cabinets.

“Fresh and new tools, all with the potential of helping and saving someone. It’s thrilling.” She mumbles.

Is it? I think.

“...to me.” She adds as if she could hear my thoughts.

“You’ll have an assistant--”

“An assistant?”

I hate when people cut me off. Let me finish my sentence.

“Yes. She isn’t a surgeon like you, however she does know about lab work and pharmaceutical things…”

I go through the rest of the details. All the things I can remember from the file Jimin handed me earlier today. I pretended I didn’t see her eyes moving from up and down my body.

It can’t be helped, I’m an attractive man.

I take this time to get a good look at her face, feeling like I haven’t really looked at her time now.

She’s not ugly, that’s for sure.

“You are a part of this team now, I will hold you to the same standard as the others. I will treat you the same as the others. Do not--” She cuts me off again.

She’s going to make this a habit.

“--expect any special treatment because you are my soul mate. You don’t have to say that every day Hoseok. I’m not stupid.”

Those puppy dog eyes she was giving me that first night we met told me otherwise. She has to be one of those girls that has a skewed preselection of her soulmate. Fairytale ending with Prince Charming. That unrealistic expectation is why people act so stupidly.

“Isn’t that how that soulmate thing works?” I retorted, “Once someone finds their soulmate they lose the ability to think straight? They throw out common sense and only make decisions based on their selfish wimps and wants pertaining to their soulmates?”

A bitter aftertaste grows on my tongue after speaking those words. She’s quiet for a while. I watch her eyebrows scrunch up in confusion before she speaks again, “W-well that’s not me!”

“Do not worry about any sort of feelings getting in the way. I am not swayed so easily.”

Sure.

~!~

Bugging Y/n at working is starting to be something I look forward to. Her reactions are too funny. The grimace on her face as she slowly stand s to her feet and bows like the rest of her co-workers, making me want to laugh.

You can always tell what she’s thinking by her facial expression. I dropped by the hospital for some paperwork, and decided to see if I could find Y/n around.

Just to mess with her of course. She’s the one that wanted me to keep my distance at her workplace, so I have to do the opposite.

“Are you still mad at me?” I say, noticing the curious looks from her co-workers.

“Hello Mr. Jung.” She replies.

“Hello, doc.” I take in her standing there in that awful white jacket, quite different from how she was dressed at headquarters.

“You really clean up nice for work.” I grin at her and manage to get a few light jabs at her before letting the cat out the bag in front of her co-workers. I know the gossip will spread around the hospital, and it’s for the best. I don’t want any of our conversations being questioned.

If people see us talking at the hospital, they’ll just see it as flirting and a quick couple’s chat.

After I took a seat, her friend Jennie was carrying most of the conversation. Y/n would just look at me with distaste and sigh, leaning back in her seat. It’s not till Jennie brings her back into the conversation that Y/n says something.

The true displeasure Y/n was showing me came off as a cute couple bantering to Jennie.

“Don’t let Y/n’s awful behavior scare you away!” Jennie exclaims. I lean in closer to Y/n, forgetting just how close out chairs were to each other.

Oh, she smells amazing. Odd thing to notice but, when I got in close enough I caught a whiff of something pleasant. I placed a hand on her knee, causing her body to tense up and her eyes to widen.

“Thankfully, I don’t scare too easily.” I joke back to Jennie.

Has...has Y/n never felt a man’s touch? She froze up like an inexperienced teenager. Oh this is too good! I move my hand up an inch and hear her let out a shaky exhale. I look at her and start to caress her thigh with my thumb. She shivers.

I announce that I’m leaving and decide to really add the cherry on top. Since half of the lunchroom was already watching, might as well give them a show. My hand smoother slides from her thigh to the small of her back. I lean in closer, bringing my lips to her ear.

Her warmth is...welcoming.

“Doc,” I whisper. I inhale softly, taking in the alluring perfume she has on.

“I’ll need you tonight.” I say a little louder. The gasps from the women listening in was exactly what I wanted. She shivers again.

“Oh wow, was that a little tremble I saw?”

She rolls her eyes and I almost want to laugh at the animated action.

“Doc, these little reactions of yours are so amusing...I can’t help but mess with you like this.” I reason.

“I can’t stand you.” She hisses back.

Oh if only she knew how that white coat of hers makes my skin crawl. I can’t stand it or her. But at least she’s proving herself useful.

I am barely out of the lunchroom when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Why does it feel like I can still smell Y/n? Like she left a lingering print on me.

I answer my phone, “Hello?”

“We have a problem!” Taehyung shouts into my ear. I wince at the volume of his voice and quickly look at my surroundings. No one is really looking my way, so I lower my voice and continue down the hallway.

“What’s up?”

“The cop! The cop that has been trying to find info on Seok! We found her!”

I raised my eyebrows, “That’s great Taehyung! What’s wrong with that?”

“She’s the one we hired as Y/n’s assistant.”

My power stride stopped immediately. Just great! Sometimes I wonder if my father made this many mistakes! How could that have gotten past me?

“We did a background check and everything. She was clean.” I said through clenched teeth.

“She took on someone else’s identity! We did all we could! But at least we sniffed it out before she met you in person. What should we do?”

I started my stroll down the hallway again, checking for anyone who may be listening in.

“Do you have her? Like in your custody?”

Taehyung is quiet, “Should we?” He drags out.

“Well she’s already seen your faces! She’s seen Namjoon! Namjoon has been seen as the bodyguard for Jung Hoseok, the CEO of Jung Funding.” I groan, pinching my nose and whispering the next order.

“You gotta get her. I don’t know how, but you have to before they connect the dots. We don’t know how many team members she has helping her. But get her and bring her to the headquarters. We’ll have to get information out of her, then tie the loose end.”

“Got it!” Taehyung says and the line goes dead.

My dumbass forgot that I also told Y/n to come to headquarters, so we were standing there later that night discussing the black market surgeries she would be performing. Her shock to the tasks was confusing. Did she think she’d just stay around and patch us up? We don’t get hurt too often! If she’s gonna be around, I’m using her to her full potential.

“Oh the others are back!” She whips around to see Jungkook poking his head in. My eyes went wide just as Jungkook’s did. Fuck! They’re bringing the cop in! I hope they knocked her out. If she starts calling for help with Y/n here, it’ll make things more difficult.

“Jungkook, is everything ok--” I reach out and spin Y/n around to face me. I pull her close to my chest. I have both hands on her shoulders and feel her tense up again. Is it that she’s never felt a man’s touch, or is it just me that she stiffens up like that.

“W-what was that about?”

I told her to keep her eyes on me and she does. The look in her eyes catches me off guard. They're not fearful, but they don’t hold her regular annoyance.

I ignore most of the questions she asks me as the guys the officer down the other hallway. I tuned her out some time ago but when I finally looked at her she said, “Oh wow.”

“You seem to forget what my line of work is.” I jeer. I remove my hands from her shoulders and step back.

“I forget just how real your job is at times.”

~!~

I strolled into the blue room, wearing some medical gloves. My eyes laid on Jiae, the undercover cop who was tied to the blue metal chair.

“I forgot that I told Y/n to drop by.” I explained, seeing the questions in their eyes.

“It’s cool, we weren’t trying to interrupt your little date.” Jimin cooed, smiling widely.

Of course the teasing begins.

“It wasn’t a date. I was giving her the procedure files. “ I say, before turning to the woman who watched my every move in terror.

Her mouth was covered with duct tape, and her eyes were bloodshot. The few moments of eye contact shook fear into her. She couldn’t have been any older 35. Her straight black hair was a mess, and sweat dewed on her forehead. Her eyes welled up with tears but it didn’t move me.

My eyes moved back to Jimin who was slipping on his own gloves. It must be scary for Jiae. Watching these men she does know calmly put on gloves while chatting. She has no idea what to expect.

“Make sure Y/n finds an assistant.” I muttered. Namjoon who was leaning against the wall scratched the back of his head.

“Why don’t we ask that Jennie friend of hers?” He suggests. I simply hum and nod, walking up to Jiae who trembled.

“You almost slipped past us!” I yelled, grinning at her. I reach forward to peel the tape off her mouth. I do it slowly, and she exhales deeply before coughing.

“Why are you looking for Seok?” I stood staring at the panting women.

“I-I can give you money if that’s what you want? Tell me what you want! Whatever it takes, I have people who can get it for you! You don’t have to protect Seok! I’m just trying to get to him!” She begs, rocking her body a bit. The ropes around her arms and legs must really burn.

“Who sent you here?” I asked another question, stepping even closer, “There is nothing you can offer us! I just want to know why you’re here and who sent you.”

She gulps, “I-I can’t tell you.” She moves her focus to the ground and I try not to snicker. This night is dragging out too long. I’m already in a bad mood, and I have more work awaiting me. I don’t have the energy to interrogate kindly.

“Why are you here?” I growled again.

“We’re just trying to find Seok! Please I won’t tell anyone.”

“Who is ‘we’?” Namjoon speaks up this time, “the FBI? CIA?”

Jiae hangs her head in defeat, “We’re just a small detectives office! It was a stupid move and we weren’t aware of who we were up against. It took months to get this close to Seok, and I know you’re just following commands.”

“Ms. Jiae,” I call sarcastically, “I don’t know if you’re aware but outsiders don’t get to see Mr. Seok and live. Do you not know that?” I cock my head, wondering if I should just let Namjoon take control. I’m at my wits end.

“I don’t even want to find him anymore! So if you could please--”

“But I’m right here.” I pout, and watch the realization grow on her face.

~!~

I walked into the lobby of headquarters to hear Jaehyun and Jennie yelling at each other. I tried my best to keep from groaning in annoyance. I knew their relationship before bringing Jennie to work with Y/n, but I was hoping they could overcome it. Jaehyun won’t be working with us for long. He’ll help us with this mission and probably with forging documents in the near future.

My eyes settled on Y/n. I could only see the back of her head as she slumped back in her seat. She wasn’t talking,only watching the couple as they threw insults back and forth.

I haven’t seen her in a few days. It seems things have gotten busy at the hospital, which is the only reason I didn’t bother to grill her for missing the meeting I called her to a few days ago.

Unfortunately, I have become quite aware of her absence. Her glares and her teasing remarks have been a part of my everyday routine. It's obvious that she’s tired, so she'll fall asleep in no time. I

I took a seat beside Y/n, and she looked at me. She still smiles at me, though it doesn’t meet her tired eyes. She beams at me, and though she looked exhausted, it was clear that she was happy to see me.

She’s...happy to see me?

“You look tired.” I said quietly. I wasn’t trying to be rude, but rather made an observation. Y/n understood, seeing as she laughed.

“Just say you missed me so we can move forward.” Her shoulders shook as she giggled, and the corner of my lips twitched, a smile threatening my lips.

I guess...I missed her?

Wait! No! I just noticed how quiet it was without her. Y/n was always bubbly and talkative compared to me. The guys love having her around. She draws out conversation and makes the gloomy atmosphere bearable.

I take a look at the files spread out on the table, and tell Jennie and Jaehyun to settle down. The upcoming mission is important, and ends everyone’s part to work. Everyone including Y/n.

I sat at home, wondering if it was smart to bring Y/n into this. I said from the beginning that I wasn’t going to involve her in anything that wasn’t black market medical work, but could it be avoided?

The whole hospital believes we are a couple, and with the Charity Gala coming up, it wouldn’t make sense to not take Y/n as a date. However, I don’t want to parade around with her on my arm, as she has no idea what is going on behind the scenes. I at least respect her to not be so rude.

Y/n shifted in her seat, leaning closer to me. She was paying attention to everything I was saying, but the expression was unreadable. Most of the meeting went well while I laid down everything in detail. I let Jin take over as he broke down more details of the mission but my attention was divided as /n moved closer and closer to me.

Her head dropped on my shoulder and glanced at her to see her eyes closed. She fell asleep. I snicker looking back down at the document in my hand. My senses were overtaken by her shampoo and the light traces of perfume. She was warm, and my shoulder was growing hot.

I stared at the printed words on the paper for a few seconds when I recognized the silence that surrounded me. Why isn’t Jin still talking?

My attention moves to the quiet people at the table. They were staring at me like I had two heads. My face scrunched up in annoyance and I glared at each person. I’m going to pretend i don’t know what’s going on.

“What?” I asked, my gaze moving to each face around the table. I noticed Jungkook who gave me a knowing smile, his cheeks lifted high as he grinned that bunny-like smile of his. The meeting went on, and soon Jennie was also asleep, her work schedule being as crazy as Y/n’s.

My eyes couldn’t help but stare at her and Jaehyun for a moment. The way Jennie naturally leaned on him, looking so comfortable and trusting of him. Jaehyun received all her affections, throwing an arm around her as she hid her face in his neck.

That’s probably the type of relationship Y/n was looking for. A person she can trust in and feel completely comfortable around.

But...I don’t think I can think of a moment in which Y/n didn’t trust me. It’s weird. Maybe she doesn’t really understand how my job is?

“Vitals.” I heard Y/n mumble in her sleep before she shifted, her hand landing itself on my thigh. I tensed at the movement, my eyes staring at her hand as if it could move it away with my gaze.

It was now Yoongi that was voicing some concerns about the mission but I couldn’t focus. Her hand was palm resting carelessly on my lower thigh near my neck. I glance at her hand again and my own hand was itching,

I wonder if…

I look back up at the papers in my hands and set it on the table as Yoongi continues to speak. I slowly brought my hand up to rest on my knee, not too far from her hand. My eyes move from Yoongi speaking to my hand.

Maybe…..

I slowly inch my hand towards her, some of my fingers brushing her hand. As if Y/n could sense what I was doing, she sighs and readjusts herself, her hand moving to fall right on top of mine. I tune back into the conversation, the guys too focused on their points and opinions that they didn’t notice my attention was else. I shifted in my seat, sitting up a bit and Y/n squeezed my hand.

She moved with me, adjusting to me and sighing. This is...warm. She is warm and not so bad.

I look over at Jaehyun and Jennie. Jennie was still knocked out and leaning on Jaehyun. I wonder if...Y/n and I look as natural as they do.

The possibility of a real meaningful relationship has felt so unneeded and out of reach but….this is nice.

But I couldn’t meet the expectations that she’d have. Plus, doctors are crooked. Doctors like to say they became doctors to help people, but oftentimes they have the worst personalities. They have the biggest egos.

~!~

“Boss, have fun!” Jungkook cooed. I rolled my eyes at him, looking over the last of the plans. I was at the HQ lobby and we all stood around dressed according to our roles in the mission. The car waited outside, but Jungkook was bouncing around me with a smile.

“This is technically a date!” He chimed.

“I doubt Y/n sees it that way.” I replied. Jungkook clasps my shoulder and grins.

“I actually agree but, I think you should enjoy yourself tonight. We have the mission under control, just worry about showing Y/n a good time. I think you’ll realize that a future with Y/n isn’t so outrageous. You like her.”

My eyes widen, “I like Y/n?” I laugh and look up at the ceiling in disbelief.

“Never that.” I added.

“It’s okay to admit it! I think you deserve to have someone for yourself! You can’t go around frowning for your whole life. The universe--”

“Don’t talk to me about the fucking universe.” I hiss. My harsh tone doesn’t phase Jungkook, he continues to speak.

“The universe doesn’t make mistakes!”

“You’re still saying that?” Namjoon chimed in as he walked towards us.

I scoffed, “Jungkook is young, so he thinks it’s that simple.”

“It is that simple!” Jungkook fussed. It was quiet for a moment as everyone moved about.

“Boss.” Jungkook called. His tone was different, the beaming smile was gone and a smirk sat on his lips. I was surprised by the change of tone from him.

I raised an eyebrow at him and he ran his fingers from his hair.

“Since you don’t like Y/n...can I ask her out?” The challenging tone had me staring at the younger man seriously. He stared back, his smirk growing wider.

“You’re not going to wait for your soulmate?” My voice was low, and undermining.

“Boss, do you not listen to me when I talk? I told you I’ve found her already, and she has a boyfriend, but that’s a different situation. You don’t like Y/n...so I can pursue her?”

The tension was staggering, and the air grew heavy as we stared at each other in silence. Jungkook didn’t back down, cocking his head to the side. He’s serious?

“Come on Kook!” Jimin laughed, putting himself between us, “Boss, I’m sure he’s joking.”

Jimin’s intrusion wasn’t enough to make us break eye contact.

“You’re joking right?” Jimin says with a bright smile. Everyone had stopped what they were doing and watching Jungkook. Jungkook has never seriously challenged me on something.

At this point, Jungkook is probably closer to Y/n than I am, so this development of feelings shouldn’t surprise me.

Jungkook breaks the staring competition and smiles that normal gummy smile of his, “Of course I’m joking!” He exclaims. A unified sigh of relief is heard in the room, but not from me. The others let out nervous chuckles, but I narrow my eyes at Jungkook who’s smile doesn’t meet his eyes.

The bunny smile is there, but the challenging look in his eyes remains.

That conversation with Jungkook was on my mind on the drive to pick up Y/n. Jaehyun trailed behind me with a different car.

“Since you don’t like Y/n...can I ask her out?”

He looked me right in the eyes and said that. I do forget that there are other men that have eyes for Y/n. That stupid Dr. Lee at the hospital has made it apparent that my presence didn’t deter him. I keep saying soulmates are a foolish notion, so when Y/n decides to move on, I’ll be okay right?

A strange discomfort is building in my chest as I think about it. A vision of Y/n’s smiling face appears in my mind and I sigh, almost defeated. I press my hand to my chest, the hammering of my heart clouding my thoughts.

“What the fuck.” I mutter to myself.

“Sir,” The driver calls, “We’ve arrived.” I look around to see that we were in front of Y/n's apartment complex.

When she makes her way out I can’t help but stare. I just knew that dress would be perfect for her. You’d think it was made for her and her alone. Her hair was styled simply and the make up was done simply.

She is...beautiful.

Fuck.

My eyes move along her body, from head to toe and once again. The slit on the dress with the draping neckline that showed just a little cleavage had me feel some type of way.

I looked back to her face and wondered how my face looked at this moment because it felt like my throat was drying up and my hands were getting sweaty.

I should tell her how good she looks. I should say ‘you look pretty’ cause saying beautiful would be too much right?

You look pretty!

Ugh, what the hell Hoseok, are you a middle school boy? It’s Y/n! Doc! Just say something before this silence gets weird.

“We’re matching!” She announces, smiling widely.

The corner of my lips twitch up, fighting a smile. When we’re in the car I’m speaking with Namjoon on the phone as he explains that things are set in place. Y/n sits beside me, not saying anything. She stares out the window unaware of my lingering gaze.

When I’m off the phone she makes some comments about my favorite color being green. She’s not wrong and It looks good on her so why not?

Strolling past the flashing cameras and into the venue, we were met by different people all turning their heads our way. My hand rested on the small of her back. I watched her eyes dart around the place at the rich people and celebrities that were about. This wasn’t her type of crowd and it was clear.

I keep her pressed against me, noticing the goosebumps on her shoulders. Her chest is rising and following quickly. Of course she’s nervous. It’s already an intimidating event but also knowing about the crime that will take place? I’m sure she’s stressed.

I smiled at her actions, as it reminded me of a nervous puppy.

“Hey, look at me for a second.” I whispered. When she looked my way, her jaw dropped open for some reason. I smiled wider at the beautiful woman staring up at me.

“Look like you’re happy to be with me.”

She beamed at me, that same smile of hers. She doesn’t have to pretend does she? Am...am I pretending?

Maybe I’m just pretending that this isn’t going to go up in flames like it did with my parents. Maybe I’m pretending like she didn’t have heart eyes for me since the beginning. I mean I am the soulmate she has always been waiting for. So when that spark is gone, would she still smile at me like this?

I take my hand off her back and she takes hold on my arm.

We weren’t left alone for long, different company executives approaching me often. Y/n listened patiently and would make small talk with jokes and puns. What was she nervous about? She’s a natural at this. I can’t even call her a social butterfly, she’s just a people person.

As I introduced her to some executives, she smiled beautifully and my arm naturally wrapped around her waist and held her close to me. We stood and spoke with quite a few people. I found myself glancing over at her every once in a while. She’d be too focused on the conversation to notice my stare, but when she did, she’d simply smile at me then tune back into the conversation.

My eyes scanned the black, catching Jimin who was in disguise. I knew everything was going smoothly since I hadn’t gotten any text messages or phone calls since we arrived.

These two women were talking my ears off while Y/n tried to hide the glare on her face. She’s been throwing looks at women who eyed me. I chuckled as I watched the women shying away as Y/n put her intimidating gaze on them.

A sigh sounded from Y/n, making the two female executives stop talking to look at Y/n. I used this time to make the women stop their ogling at me in front of Y/n.

“Are you tired already, baby?” I whispered in her ear. The name made her look at me in surprise. The close proximity of our face had to be making the female executives uncomfortable. Her lips parted and her eyes flickered down to my lips so quickly that I don’t think she knows she’s done it.

Fuuuuucccck.

The night doesn’t end in the most peaceful. Even though the mission went well, I let my anger get to me.

“For once...it felt like you didn’t hate me.” She says honestly.

We’re standing on the balcony, looking up at the dim stars in the style. Y/n is a bit drunk, and her honest thoughts start to fall out her mouth.

I’m left staring at the side of her face while she stays keyed in on the stars. The small smile on her lips did lessen the effect of her words. She sounded genuinely hurt.

“I don’t hate anyone.” I argued. And well that was a lie. I hate my mother and that stupid man. But Y/n thinks I hate her?

“Doc, I don’t hate you.”

“But you hate soulmates and doctors.” She accused me.

“Who told you that?” I snapped.

Y/n rolls her eyes, “What does it matter? I got the message.”

What the hell? She speaks like she has me figured out. I’m not the most easy going and open but to hate her? She genuinely believes that? How can she tell me about my feelings? What cause I’m not the fucking prince charming she expected.

“What about you doc?” I start “Do you really like me?”

“Yes.” She says sternly.

“You really like me? Or do you like the image of a soulmate? The idea of a soulmate is what you like. I am not the picture perfect guy you dreamed of, stop trying to put me in that box.”

She looks at me, scrutinizing my face. I watched her eyes move all across my face, taking in every facial feature of mine. Her eyes were big, and honest. I know she isn’t lying to me. What does she have to gain from me? Y/n hasn’t hidden a single thing from me.

“I do admit, I liked the idea of a soulmate. I liked the idea of meeting someone and just connecting instantly and understanding each other.” She said sternly. It’s just as I expected but I’m disappointed to hear her say it.

“My point proven.” But Y/n didn’t back down, still staring up at me.

“You were not what I expected. Your lifestyle is frightening and dangerous. You are cold, calculating, hard to read and sometimes scary. You’ve probably killed people and I’m sure committed many crimes. Hell, I sat here and played ‘couple of the year’ while the others robbed artwork.”

“Oh--” A voice said from the entryway. We both turn our attention to Jungkook who stared on with wide eyes. He wasn’t sure what he had walked in on, but he was hesitant to speak. The atmosphere was heavy and uncomfortable. Ugh, of all the times for him to walk in.

The soft and caring look in Y/n’s eyes when she saw the boy was annoying to me.

“Noona, I’ll be taking you home.” He announced, “Just let me know when you’re ready to go.” Jungkook’s eyes flickered between us, wondering what conversation had happened before he walked in.

“Thank you Jungkook,” Y/n’s voice wavered, “I’ll be right there.” She dismissed him. Jungkook gave me a pointed look and left.

Y/n sighed, pushing her body off the ledge and standing straight. She smoothed her dress, and brushed off any possible dirt.

She looked back up at me and flashed a sad smile, “Despite all those things. Your lifestyle, your crimes and your cold attitude ...I still like you.” She stared right into my eyes, that same soft and caring look she had for Jungkook before was there but...there was something else.

‘Heart eyes’ the guys have been calling it. It’s as clear as day.

“Really?” I laughed a bit to hide my discomfort. The way she gazed at me had me feeling...vulnerable.

“Truly.” She confirmed, not daring to look away from me. Y/n stepped closer to me and I watched closely, looking down as one of her hands found mine. She held my hand, stretched her head up and put her lips to my cheek.

She just….kissed me? On my cheek?

“Tonight was fun. Thank you Hoseok.” With that, she spun around and made her way back inside. Probably going to find Jungkook so she could go home.

My heart is pounding in my ears. I can’t think straight. She kissed my cheek? She really really likes me?

A person with such a sick job? I’m a fucking criminal! Did she forget? I kill people! I lie and steal!

Who the hell would want to stay with a man like me? Like my father? My mother’s harsh words to me still sting like they were yelled at me yesterday.

● ● ●

I stood by my father’s hospital bed where he laid weak and fable. As a 16 year old there is only so much I can do while my mom yells at my father. My eyes darted to the doors behind my mother’s raging figure. Where is the hospital staff?

“Mom, what are you doing? What are you talking about? I don’t understand! Why would you be leaving?”

She stared at me with tearful bloodshot eyes. Her face was red and she breathed heavily.

“Son, your mother--” My father’s words were cut off.

“I’m leaving Hoseok. If you don’t want out of this horrible way of life, then fine! I won’t subject myself to this! I found my soulmate, a normal man with a normal job.” She was yelling while fighting back tears. I stagger back, looking between her and my father.

“Y-you guys aren’t soulmates?” My voice comes out quietly and my eyes sting with ears. The sadistic laughter that left my mother’s mouth was chilling.

“I pity the woman who’s soulmate is a mafia man! This life is draining! I’m tired! In the start I thought love was enough but it just isn’t! It’s become a burden!” She threw her hands up in exhaustion.

“Hoseok, if you choose this life just know that you don’t deserve a soulmate. Don’t put someone through the torture of not knowing if their husband will come home! Or dealing with random mysterious trips! You’re better off alone in this type of work? Do you hear me Hoseok? When you find your soulmate, run the other way! For her sake!”

~!~

I sit in the hotel bed, staring up at the ceiling with my phone pressed to my ear. I am in Japan for not only underground work but investments. It’s been a pretty busy trip, and all while I’ve been here Y/n was clouding my mind.

In the meeting with Jisoo about the Japanese part of our mafia network, Y/n was dancing in the back of my mind.

I know damn well it was wrong of me to travel without telling her. It’s been a week since I’ve seen her and I’m itching to see her again. I don’t know what I'm going to do or say when I see her, so I’ll figure it out when the time comes. It’ll be another 4 days before I’m back in Korea. So when I saw the missed call from Y/n I thought something bad happened, but the simple sound of her voice made my body tingle.

Fuck my life.

What am I gonna do about this? I think I’m getting a hard on just at the thought of her laying in her bed as she speaks to me.

“Ok, cool. Umm...how much longer are you staying in Japan?” She asks softly. I joke to lighten the mood. It was probably only me who was feeling so heavy. It’s been a dry spell, and I can’t get myself to call one of my usually booty calls.

“Why?” I grin, “Do you miss me?” I chuckle knowing a swift denial from her when she speaks in a breathy voice.

“I miss you a lot.” She’s doing this on purpose, she has to be. I shift in my bed, hissing under my breath as I felt my dick getting hard.

Oh she misses me huh? She’s probably laid up in her bed, sleep still on her eyes. Still smelling good like she always does. Warm like she always is, welcoming like she always-

The whole time we were speaking, my mind was wandering and my dick was bringing me discomfort. It’s hard and I have no one to ease the discomfort. Ugh.

“Y/n?” I called out my voice strained, “Whenever you start missing me, just call me.”

Because I am definitely missing you. I hung up the phone and tossed it beside me on the bed, sitting up and seeing the imprint of the boner in my boxers.

I pushed my boxers down and spit in my hand a few times before I began to stroke my length, thoughts of Y/n in the cute outfits she wears under that white coat driving me forward. As well as the way she looked the last time I saw her, at the Charity Gala.

I think I'm losing my mind over here. What the hell is happening to me?

A breathy groan escapes my lips and moans of her name drip off my tongue. It’s a little shameful who just the sound of her voice invokes such a fire in me.

When did I get myself wrapped around her finger like this?

~!~

I look at the door for the 5th time, ignoring the yelling between those who were present. I’m finally back in Seoul after 12 days of traveling and I can’t lie to myself about the excitement of seeing Y/n again.

After jacking off to the thought of her, I wonder how I'll be able to face her. I feel...weird about it. I wouldn’t ever tell her about it, since no sexual interaction has happened between us in the slightest. But my emotions have felt intensified by 10 these days.

I also mean to talk to Jungkook about his words before the Gala. I need to make it clear that Y/n is off limits. She’s not my girlfriend or anything but, Jungkook needs to back off. I have to start driving her myself, and since Y/n says she likes me….she won’t mind.

“You missed her!” Taehyung sings from his seat, “You missed Y/n!”

I only stare at the cheesing boy, before looking to Namjoon to start explaining the information he gathered.

“Of course he missed her!” Seokjin called out, “he’s looking at the door every few minutes!”

“Boss is not in the mood to be teased,” Yoongi exclaimed before showing me a goofy smile.

“Not by us at least.” Jimin jokes.

The boys laugh collectively and I can feel my ears burning red.

“Oh, his ears are read!” Yoongi observes fighting off his laughter.

“They are!” The others chime in.

“What happened Boss, did you have a naughty dream about Y/n?”

“Did you get off to her?”

“Have you finally realized your feelings?”

They were all speaking at once and I could only keep my head down as my ears grew hot.

I must say...it’s been a long time since the boys have openly made fun of me like this.

“I’ve just been…” Their laughter trails off as I start to speak.

“I’ve been feeling a lot of things lately.” I shrug to try to move past the awkwardness that came with the words.

“Well duh!” Taehyung says, “You’ve probably just realized your feelings, and your little soulmate connection things are just now starting! Don’t worry boss, I doubt Y/n is going to care if you showed her more affection-- I’m sure she wants it.”

“L-let’s just change the subject,” I mutter, “Order some food for everyone, I’m paying.”

A cheer sounds through the room and I’m just glad the subject has changed. While Namjoon is speaking, Jin ends up calling Jungkook about what to order but my attention in tuned into Namjoon.

It’s when I hear a door opening followed by whistles from the guys that I knew Y/n was here. I kept my eyes forward, while Namjoon kept explaining what he wrote on the blackboard. We were having a discussion on this when I heard her voice.

“Hey guys.” She greeted everyone. Namjoon even greeted her in return, looking at me while I pretended to be too focused on the blackboard.

Soon she stood at my side, “Hey.” She says softly.

“Hey.” I replied before looking at her head on. Beautiful as always. My eyes drop down her body and back to her eyes. She wore a fine yellow outfit, and I hope the jump in body didn’t translate onto my face.

I sat on the table and she stood, she was almost eye level with me. After asking about how my flight was, she kisses me on the cheek. I stare at her in surprise while she smiles in return.

“I’m glad you’re back.” She said. I narrowed my eyes at her, and my eyes dropped down to her outfit again.

Damn, she has to be doing this on purpose. Even after she diverted her attention to Namjoon, I couldn’t help myself. She gave me a perfect view of her ass, I had the urge to be...close to her. Fuck I liked to have her under me screaming my na--

“Boss is looking hungry!” Taehyung sang, potentially pulling me from my train of thoughts.

“But not for food.” Jennie adds.

I look back at some files I was supposed to be reading with a small smirk on my lips. My ears grew hot as they turned red.

“Cute.” She mumbles.

~!~

“Now why did you guys go and make her cry?” I said to the guys as they sat around the circular table. I sent Jennie and Y/n home after Y/n bursted into tears after hearing the contract the guys’ parents signed to be free of debt. I didn’t want to touch this subject again, but as I watched Y/n overwhelmed with sadness on my behalf, I knew I couldn’t ignore it.

“She asked us questions and we answered it.” Yoongi said softly, throwing a concerned look to Jungkook who was crying.

“W-we don’t hate you Hoseok!” Jungkook sobbed, wiping his face with the sleeves of his shirt.

I was surprised to hear my first name from him.

“A-and I’m not pursuing Y/n. It was just a small crush.”

I almost had to laugh at the way he gargled his words while tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Guys, let’s not do this okay? We can just-”

“We don’t hate you hyung,” Jimin chimed in, shyly looking down at the table instead of looking at me.

“Guys--” I’m cut off again.

“I am sorry hyung, I was angry with my parents. You didn’t do anything and it wasn’t right for us to shut you out like we did. We should have been your family and support at the funeral but we left you all alone. It wasn’t fair to you.” Taehyung stared at me with wet eyes.

“You took care of us so well, a-and we didn’t realize the damage it caused! There is no hate for you anywhere in my heart.”

They went on like that for a while. I simply listened, taking in their words. Long monologues about how they were sorry and so on. It was nice to hear and it did ease me just a small bit. When it was silent and my turn to speak.

“I am not angry at you guys. It was lonely all these years. You guys were here but it was lonely.” Was all I could say, scratching the back of my neck. It’s uncomfortable to talk like this with them.

“Well,” Namjoon began, “We won’t let you feel lonely anymore hyung!” With those words Jungkook rose on his feet and charged towards me. I was pulled into a tight hug.

“I only like hugs from Y/n.” I joked, hoping the awkward feeling would pass. But soon I was in the middle of a huge group hug.

“Let’s take some baby steps and work up to hugs.” I muttered, resulting in a laugh from everyone else.

~!~

The music was booming and the lights were a hot red, matching the hot atmosphere of the club. The bass of music was vibrating strongly and it was adding a small shake to the glasses of drinks on the table. Y/n and Jennie went to the dance floor some time ago, and the way she looked when she approached me was printed in my mind.

She looked hot. I felt my blood growing hot and I couldn’t stop the need to get my hands on her. The urge to have Y/n close has grown intensely. I can’t say I'm a skinship person but with her, it’s different. I need her close, I want her close.

The way she came in and took a seat next to me without any hesitation. I mean, where else would she have sat? Having someone by my side is...nice. Great even.

I wonder if she’d let me drive her home. I’m tired of always having Jungkook do it. He told me his declaration to pursue Y/n was a joke, but I’m not going to let my guard down just yet

“Hyung, there are three of them. They’ve already noticed our presence so I expect one of them to approach us.” Jimin stated, “They’ll try to intimidate us. It’s the same pattern they’ve been doing at the last spots they hit.”

“I’m gonna ring up Y/n and tell her and Jennie to clear out of here soon, before things pop off.” I said reaching into my pocket to grab my phone.

“Look at you being a worried boyfriend.” Jimin cooed.

I paused my movements before giving Jimin a curious look, “Jimin...how would you ask someone out on a date?”

Jimin’s toothy grin went into a full out mouth opening smile.

“Hyung!” He yelled in excitement. I instantly regretted my question.

“Never mind,” I dismissed, shaking my head,

“Wait hyung! I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you!” He shouted. I barely heard him over the music but I simply nodded.

“I’ll tell you later, but I think with Y/n, just ask her to a movie or to dinner!She’s pretty chill.” He added. I stood up from my seat, ignoring his last words. However, I will be asking him later.

With my phone in my hands, I scrolled through my contacts to find Y/n. I walked out from the seated pit area to find Y/n. My eyes searched the club, spotting a suspicious man stand near the edge of the dance floor.

I spotted him briefly, moving my gaze off him naturally. I want him to believe I didn’t spot him. He’s clearly a part of the men we were watching.

I looked back to my phone and instead of texting Y/n, I text Taehyung who was already on high alert.

To Taehyung: Keep eyes on dude on the right. Far end of the dance floor. He’s up to something.

Just as I looked up from my phone, I saw Y/n approaching me. I couldn’t read the expression on her face, but it’s clear she was eager to get to me.

“Where’d you go? I was looking for you--” I was cut off as she slammed into me, throwing her arms around me in a tight hug. It nearly knocked the wind out of me, but the display of affection left me smiling.

“Did you miss me already?” I chuckled. It was at the moment that I heard her labored breathing in my ear. Something is...off.

“H-hoseok.” She called out weakly. Her arms dropped from around me and she was putting all of her weight onto me.

“Y/n?” I asked, shoving my phone into my pocket and wrapping my arms around her. The next thing I knew, I heard a terrifying scream, and looked up to see Jennie standing about 12 feet from us with a horrified look on her face.

Something is wrong.

“Y-y/n?” I called again. She’s not responding. She’s not talking. Her shallow breaths were all I could hear. The music was being tuned out and my heart was beating in my ears. My hands moved from her back to her hips and her side when I felt it. I froze as I realized my hands were...wet?

I glanced down at my right hand and thought I could have collapsed when I saw the bright red on my hand. My hand pressed back to her side, putting pressure on where the blood was coming from. All this happened in seconds, but it felt like hours.

“Y-you’re bleeding? Y/n? Y/n!” My voice shook as I tried to get any response from her.

“Taehyung!” My voice pierced through the music, and I turned my head to see the guys rushing towards me with Jennie walking up with tears in her eyes. She was asking me questions with her eyes but I didn’t have any answers.

“Taehyung, bring the car around to the back!” I yelled.

“Yoongi, Joon go after those bastards! They couldn’t have gone far!” I’m yelling and everyone is moving. We’ve caught the attention of some people on the dance floor, as well as those sitting in other pits, but their curious stares didn’t mean a thing to me.

“I’m...tired.” Y/n said, as if she was sobbing.

I scooped up Y/n into my arms and made my way towards the back exit of the club. We had to push our way through the staff rooms and the small kitchen but we got through with no problem. Jennie was at my side, taking a clean rag she got while we pushed through the kitchen, and pressed it to the wound.

“Please Y/n.” I whispered, holding her closer to me.

Usually such bullet wounds won’t cause all this worry, but with the amount of blood that was coming...it was scary. Even by my standards. Did the bullet hit an artery? That’s...that’s the worst thing that could happen. If an artery was hit, Y/n will die for sure.

“Y/n? Stay awake for me.” I said again, as we made it out the back exit to the alleyway where Taehyung already had the big van parked. Jimin through the sliding door open and I stepped in with Y/n still in my arms. Jennie followed in after me.

Jimin closed the door and hopped into the passenger’s seat before Taehyung took off.

Jennie was scurrying to do different things. Despite the blood on her hands, she took the towel and pressed it to the wound. She took my free hand that wasn’t wrapped around Y/n’s back, since Y/n is sitting on my lap, and placed it on the towel.

“Keep pressure on it.” She instructed, before shuffling around the van, seeing as she was practically standing in the van. She was a bit bent over as she worked.

“Call Jin and Jungkook! Tell them to have the surgery room ready. I need all the tools cleaned and disinfected. I’ve shown them how to do it.” Jennie orders. Jimin gets right on and in that moment I was thankful that Jin and Jungkook wanted to stay back for this mission.

She was checking Y/n’s pulse and breathing, at some point pressing her ear to her chest.

“How is she?” I couldn’t recognize my own voice. My voice was quiet, unsure and weak. Ugh so weak. I noticed Jimin look at me with obvious pity.

Taehyung looks at me from the rearview mirror and I wonder what my face looks like at this moment. But I look at Y/n and frown deeply. The color is draining from her face, and all I can do is stare at her.

It’s like watching the life drain from my father all over again.

“Her pulse is….slow. Dangerously slow. I don’t think an artery was hit, but I don’t know Y/n’s medical history so it’ll be tough to figure out--”

“Jimin, find a way to get Y/n’s medical records.” I order.

Jennie seems shocked, “Hoseok it’s--”

“I have my ways.” I deadpanned, before looking over at Y/n’s face again. She’s not responding to anything and the only thing keeping my string of sanity from snapping was the rising and falling of her chest.

We arrived at the headquarters and rushed in.

“What happened?” I heard Jungkook cry as we rushed in. I went with Jennie, straight to the surgery room, thankfully to see everything set up.

I set her down on the table as Jennie rushed to wash her hands, threw on spare scrubs over her outfit, and washed her hands a second time, disinfecting then throwing gloves on.

“Out.” She ordered.

“What? I--”

“Out! I got this Hoseok! I promise! She will be fine!” She stared up at me. My eyes moved back to Y/n who was laying there looking….ghostly. I looked back at Jennie and nodded before making my way out the room.The door was still open. Jungkook, Jin and Taehyung watched, all with worried eyes.

I looked at Jennie once more as she started tearing the clothes off of Y/n. To respect her privacy, we all looked away. I stepped out the room and shut the door, leaving the guys and I in a heavy silence.

My eyes are trained on the ground and my thoughts are moving rapidly.

“Hyung--” Jungkook started, his face turning red as tears bubbled in his eyes. I glanced down at my legs, the fabric sticking to my body because of the blood that had begun to dry. My hands were covered in red and the sight disgusted me.

Blood hasn’t bothered me before, but it being Y/n’s blood left me sick. What if she dies?

I can’t keep anything good in this life can I? It was careless of me to think that I could bring her along while working. What the fuck was I thinkng?

It was a stupid move on my part so I--

“Hyung!” Jimin’s voice took me out of my thoughts. I was so zoned out that I didn’t notice I was now in the middle of a circle. Jimin, Taehyung, Jin and Jungkook all stood around me in concern. Jin reached out to place a hesitant hand on my shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Jin asked. He stared at me seriously, scrutinizing my response.

“I…” I trailed off and looked towards Jungkook who held eye contact with me for all of 3 seconds before he started crying again. I could only look away from him and back to Jin.

“I’m going to go take a shower.” I answered before stepping out from the circle. I walked out from the circle and past the circle table before walking down the hallway. I stopped at the silver door and stepped into it. It was our regular clean up from. You walk in to see what looks like a huge closet. Different shirts, uniforms and more. I walk over to a small sink in the corner and wash my hands swiftly.

I actually washed my hands three times, feeling like the red wouldn’t go away.

When looking for disguises, we come here. I walk through the room, unbuttoning my shirt and throwing into the trash bin. I don’t think I could wear these clothes again. I take off my shoes, my socks, pants and boxers before grabbing a towel not too far away. I throw it over my shoulder, feeling a little weird standing in the room completely naked.

I walked towards the second door in the room which led to a bathroom with a shower. Two separate and private showers. I hung my towel up in arms reach and stepped into one of the glass shower squares. The water was cold when it hit me, but I needed it. It felt like my whole body had been on fire for the past 30 minutes.

I took both my hands and placed them on the grey tile wall as the water grew warmer. I closed my eyes and stood there for a while. The water fell onto my hair and all down my face but I was trying to steady my breathing. My heart felt like it was going to pop out of my chest.

I grabbed my loofa and took a nice long shower, trying to keep my mind empty of any others. I stepped out of the shower, dried off and wrapped the towel around my waist. I looked through the closet area and found a simple black tee shirt and joggers. Got refreshed and put on the clothes and some nike slides before stepping out into the hallway.

When I stepped out to the lobby Yoongi and Namjoon had returned.

“Boss, we--”

“You weren’t able to catch them, I figured.” My tone was a bit harsh and I felt bad after saying it, but I’m sure they understand how stressed I am right now.

“I’ll catch them myself.” I muttered, looking towards the closed door of the surgery room.

The room is quiet again.

“It’ll be hours till she’s done so you guys can head home. I’ll keep you updated.” I announce and sit in a chair with my arms folded. The guys seemingly ignored my suggestion, cause I closed my eyes to think, and hear their shuffling.

About 30 minutes passed till I opened my eyes again and they were still there, also sitting with me.

I closed my eyes again, and didn’t open them till a tired Jennie stepped out from the room. I don’t know how much time had passed, but all the guys were sluggish in their movements cause they were half asleep.

I sprung up from my seat and looked directed at her. It was like the whole room was holding their breath.

“She’s stable. She’ll wake up in a day. I did everything right.” Jennie breaks out into a smile, tears welling in her eyes.

~!~

It’s day 5.

Y/n has not opened her eyes. I’ve sat there staring at her unmoving body for days. She’s not waking up, she’s responding or even giving us a hopefully foot twitch.

My angry eyes turn to Jennie who has unfortunately become the target for my anger. I feel bad, I really do but, Y/n should have been up days ago. None of the tests Jennie does shows anything wrong with her.

Yesterday I was yelling profanities at Jennie, asking her repeatedly if she’d done everything correct. I don’t know much about surgeries but I know a bullet to the hip or thigh area shouldn’t cause someone to be out this long!

I had already apologized to Jennie for the 3rd time and each time she was understanding. Everyone was worried. Jennie still had to go to work at the hospital so when she was gone, I just sat here in the hospital room, listening to the heart monitor beep.

When Jennie arrived, we exchanged a knowing look before I made my way out the room. And that’s how I ended up here.

I am at a familiar cemetery, staring at my father’s tombstone. It was on the father end of the cemetery, leaving a lot of space between it and the other tombstones.

“Jung Yunseok.” I read out my father's name. I sat down on the grass so I was facing his tombstone and like always I speak my mind.

“Dad, it’s been a while.” I say quietly. I look up at the sky for a moment. The sun is starting to set, leaving the sky a calming orange. Not too calming for me, but it’s pretty to look at.

“Work has been hectic. Y/n...has been distracting me. I don’t know if that’s how it was for you and mom-” I paused. The mention of her leaving a bittersweet taste in my mouth.

“How did you balance work and your personal life?” I chuckled to myself, “I didn’t think I’d like Y/n, so I brought her into my work world right from the start. What a stupid decision.”

“Because of my stupid decisions Y/n is laying there looking like a corpse.”

I stay quiet for a moment.

“She’s not like mom...at least I don’t think she is. If she was getting tired of me, she’d tell me. Every time she sees me, she looks at me with these bright eyes. She’s always happy to see me. No matter what. Could it style like that forever?”

“She did jump in front of a bullet for me.”

I run my fingers through my hair, “You and mom weren’t soulmates, so that plays a part into everything turning to shit but...Y/n and I are so if the universe doesn’t make mistakes like everyone says...she wouldn’t get tired of my lifestyle?”

“Would it be messed up if I took a step back? To clear my head?” I nervously rub my hands together before letting out a lengthy sigh.

“You always said when I’m confused, I should take a step back and see what my options are. But I know what they are. I can’t pretend I don’t like her, so it’s either I try this relationship thing 100% or I back off completely.”

The wind howls and the leaves rustle in the wind. I narrow my eyes as the wind causes tears to well up in them.

“I’m gonna keep my distance to gather my thoughts. No more decisions made off unsure thoughts.” I mutter.

My phone dings in my pocket and I pull it out to see a text from Jungkook.

Y/n woke up. She’s asking for you.

I read the text over and over again before locking my phone.

“Remember how I’d always say something was serendipity and you’d always say it was destiny.” I giggled at the memory.

“Well, serendipity is a good thing you’re not expecting or looking for. So meeting Y/n was serendipity for sure...I just can’t be sure if it’s really destiny.”

I stand up from my spot on the ground and brush off the dirt on my pants.

“I’ll let you know how things go dad.” I mutter, “Whether it’s good or bad.”

~!~

“We will discuss it another day Mr. Robins. For now, I will not raise the amount.” I said as I stood up from my seat at my desk. I stepped out of my office and down the hallway, wondering if I could get a few more kisses from Y/n.

Stupid work call interrupted us.

“Okay Mr. Jung. Sorry to call you past work hours and happy birthday” Mr. Robins said before the line went quiet. He hangs up just as I walk out to the lobby. Jennie, Jaehyun, Yoongi, Taehyung, Jungkook and Y/n laughing. Everyone’s attention turned to me as I walked in, Y/n’s gaze being the only one to linger a bit. She smiles at me before looking back at Jennie who was telling some story.

“So I’m standing at the check in desk, getting files from one of the nurses…” Jennie is sitting down at the table with Jaehyun sitting beside her. Everyone was seated except for Y/n and Jungkook who were standing next to each other near the table.

“He walks up and at first nothing looks wrong cause he’s his hand behind his back.” Jennie continues with her story as I walk up placing myself on Y/n’s other side. I could put my arm around her, or would that be too much?

Don’t want to look like I’m eager, but I am.

As if my internal conflict was heard, Y/n slides an arm around my waist and leans into me.

“I’ve heard this story a few times, but it’s still funny.” She whispers up at me with a smile and turns her attention to Jennie again.

“He says, ‘My hand just hurts a bit.’ So I tell him to write his name down and wait. So this guy brings up his hand that is wrapped up and is literally bleeding like crazy and I’m just staring at him like what the fuck?” Jennie going on.

“Does stuff like that happen a lot?” I whisper to Y/n.

“Oh yeah,” She whispers back, “All the time.”

“I ask him, sir, what happened to your hand? He says, in the calmest voice ever, ‘my circular saw split it in half while I was doing woodwork, and we all just stare at each other. Me, the nurse and the calmly bleeding man.”

I laugh as she explains further, “It was like a scene from ‘The Office’. I looked at the nurse, she looked at me, we both looked at the man and started shouting ‘GET A STRETCHER, I NEED NURSES ON HAND.’ It was horrifying.”

“So what happened to him?” Yoongi asked.

“We stitched up his hand and he was out of there a day later. But he was so calm, that we the doctors had to do the panicking for him,”

The conversation went on with weird topics and I just listened, laughing when someone said something funny.

“Awww,” Taehyung suddenly cooed. Oh no.

“Look how cute Hyung and Y/n look!” He put his hands to his cheeks and giggled.

“That’s my cue to leave!” I groaned, stepping out of Y/n’s hold.

“Wait Hoseok, don’t go! Let us gush over how cute you two look!” Yoongi joined in.

“I have more work to do anyways!” I yell back as I head back to the hallway.

“Y/n,” I say, realizing she isn’t following behind me, “let me know when you’re ready to go. I’ll drive you home.”

She looked surprised but nodded, “Okay.”

I waltz down the hallway and stop at the blue door, punching in the number code on the lock and opening the door enough to pop my head into the soundproof room.

I laid my eyes on the three men who sat tied to a chair, with duct tape on their mouths. Only two of them were awake, the dried blood on their face and cloths evidence of when we brought them in.

They panicked as they saw me, but I only shook my head.

“Oh don’t worry, I'm not finishing up today.” I say before looking into the hallway again to make sure Y/n isn’t coming.

“Honestly,” I start sarcastically, “I really hate the whole torture before killing thing but...you shot my girl, so I guess we all have to deal with the consequences.” I flash a smirk before stepping back and closing the door once again.

My girl.

Has a nice ring to it.

♠----♠----♠-----♠

Whew! 15k! My goodness what a long chapter! So let me know what you think! Do you think you understand Hoseok better?

Was it what you expected? And the things that were going on that Y/n, didn’t see...what did you think about that? Let me know what you think!

:))

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ressjeon · 3 years

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✉: check in tag ♡

— tagged by: these beautiful people: @jiminza, @taegularities, @xiaokoo, @kookdiaries, @ddaechwita, @jinned, @minsugallery & @chemicalpink 💕 a week ago im sowwy T.T

1. why did you choose your URL?

everyone's been confused what it actually means so here we go XD. initially, i was damn confused on coming up with one cause i want it to be unique? me and @mignonnex were brainstorming about names 😭 and i was thinking of something about powerful women, so queen or empress + the name of my bias, Jungkook. i was gonna go with queenjeon (someone came up with it already) and empressjeon (too long) so in the end it’s just “ressjeon”, easy to say and kind of unique ig 😂

2. any sideblogs? if you have them, name them and why you have them?

yes, i do have one and its @yanniereads! i've been reading way before I started writing and I usually give long ass reviews so I wanted a separate blog where I can do all of those and just focus on writing on this one 💕

3. how long have you’ve been on tumblr?

As a reader, I’ve been here around late 2016 I think because of BTS fanfics XD. I don’t actually remember how I started on this app, i knew this app existed but i never bothered to venture into it until I started reading fanfics and it just happened? though I only started writing in 2019 and posting this year o.o

4. do you have a queue tag?

uh I just realized that I don’t have one but I recently just started queueing things so 🤡

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

for my multi one, mainly to read, give feedback and interact with people in the fandom here and for this one is to write and gush only for BTS hehe. Also, I never expected myself to start writing since I was just contented as a reader but then a dream happened (my dreams are always vivid) + and a fmv haunting me for weeks so the moment i woke up, i grabbed my laptop and was writing for the whole day and the rest is history.

6. why did you choose your icon?

uh I saw this on Twitter and was shook at how well edited it is and it’s VERY S E X Y so why not? ;)

7. why did you choose your header?

I actually didn’t make this header rip, I legit just got this on Google but I'm gonna try to make my own to match my whole blog aesthetic? (do I even have one lmao)

8. what’s your post with the most notes?

I don’t get a lot of notes in general but I would say the masterpost of my current series posted here (there will be more series soon so wink wink)

9. how many mutuals do you have?

uh i actually need to write them down because Tumblr usually makes us unfollow each other 🤡 but its less than a hundred

10. how many followers do you have?

I have a decent one that I'm content with and I'm grateful for each one of them.

11. how many people do you follow?

uh less than 200 for sure 🤡

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

idk if I any of my post is considered as one but intentionally, I don’t think I did

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

though I only alternate between posting pics & written posts, I'm actually active the whole day everyday but I just don’t post so ring me whenever 🤡

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

no, HAHAHAH cuz I fight somewhere else (I don’t hold back there) and im trying to avoid it on this platform because too much has happened here already ♡

15. how do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

I mean I always reblog important stuff that clearly matters but other than that i just try to reblog as much as i can.

16. do you like tag games?

yes ofc though im always late T.T

17. do you like ask games?

yes again though i barely get asks :(

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

i know people would always say that it doesn't exist or that it doesn't matter but there are actual people here who are deemed as "tumblr famous" by the community, i have a few mutuals who are and they deserved it ♡

19. do i have a crush on a mutual?

i am recently in a harem now after being married to @erotikkook so 🤡

Tagging: @yoonia @yminie @blue-sidez @zibermuda @sketchguk @kithtaehyung @xjoonchildx @nomseok @jungkxook @clouditae @wishesunderthestars @jungkooksbroski @chateautae @agustdakasuga @dulcetvk @sugasbabiie @hisunshiine @venusiangguk @btssavedmylifeblr @bangtantaegi @ppersonna @lemonjoonah @dreamescapeswriting @avveh

y'all probably did this already...😅

#about me #ask games #moots 🥺#check-in tag

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amariemelody · 3 years

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Under the Bonnet Debate, it Smells like Misogynoir

I know that the discourse over Black women wearing bonnets, scarves, head wraps, do-rags, etc. in public is nothing new. I know a lot of the discussion on what Black women can and cannot, should and should not say or do in public period is nothing new.

I am a Black woman who admittedly would not wear a bonnet (I'll shorten the many coverings we can wear to just "bonnet" from here on out) in public. The most I'll wear it outside is if I'm just checking the mail box, picking up a package outside the door, and/or taking some trash out. Otherwise, I'm inside my home when I wear my head wraps. I sport an afro and admit I've only started wearing coverings regularly as recently as last year. They've helped my hair retain moisture and start to grow even more; they've helped me stop an anxiety tic of mine wherein I pull, tug, twist, etc. at my hair until it's breaking off and my hands have leeched all the moisture out; they’ve also helped protect my hair from the heat of my shower, right under my shower cap.

So I'm a Bonnet-in-the-house Black girl...and I am still 10,000% down for Black women who wear bonnets outside of their home.

There seems to be a reinvigorated camp for those who say that Black women should never wear bonnets outside of their house. I'm not surprised but one of their justifications stands out to me because it is...an empty, dangerous platitude. That platitude is, to paraphrase, "We should want to look and be our best at all times. Because remember one of us represents all of us."

One of us represents all of us.

Initially it can sound...comforting and empowering. Simple social common sense for Black women constantly under besiege from misogynoir. It possibly even echoes of popular expressions and movements like #BlackGirlMagic or #BlackGirlsRock, both of which I use and enjoy quite a bit.

But it's not any of those things.

And I don't despise it simply because it's wrong-I despise it because it's actually only half-true and it is a half-truth Black women the world over should reject.

When it comes to bonnets, we're being told that we shouldn't want to be represented on one side of the half-that is, the half wherein we appear less than presentable in public. And bonnets in public are considered less than presentable.

This is playing into a game that all Black women of all shapes, sizes, shades, socioeconomic status, etc. are well familiar: the game of body policing.

Body policing based upon white supremacist, kyriarchal standards. Body policing that neither really benefits anyone nor lets anyone win-not even cishet, able-bodied, conventional white men can win at the end of the day and certainly never Black women.

And truly the policing of bonnets is but a longtime sibling of overall body policing, which begins even before anyone cares about what we do and do not put on our heads. And that body policing is not just dangerous because of the immense psychological and emotional damage it can create, but because for the most part 1.) black women cannot readily escape our bodies and 2.) a lot of the vitriolic misogynoir is often directed at how our bodies simply naturally occur.

Take my natural body for example. Regardless of the fact that I don't wear bonnets in public myself.

I am a plus-sized, dark-skinned black woman. I am 5"6; weigh well over 200 lbs (stress been making me gain weight long before the pandemic); have broad/wide shoulders; have a natural 'fro; and did I mention that I'm plus-sized?

From the time of my childhood, because of the intersections of misogynoir, sizeism, and fatphobia against my natural body, I have been made to feel that:

Just by existing in public, I automatically take up too much space/more than my fair share of space. It is always space that I do not deserve and I should always work to shrink myself as much as possible and stay out of other people’s way.

I am automatically aggressive, antagonistic, and angry/easy to anger. I'm a hair trigger always just waiting for my moment.

I am naturally dirty/unhygienic and unkempt.

I am neither attractive/desirable (at least not within the context of my own agency and consent) nor should I even think about expressing attraction/desire for someone else.

There's no way in the world I possess any kind of varied, valuable intelligence and thoughts.

There's no way in the world I possess any kind of healthy, mature communication skills.

That was a lot to unpack in not so many bullet points.

And understand this is just what I've learned is projected onto my body as it naturally occurs. This is before I even open my mouth to say "Hello". This is before getting to what I’m wearing. This is before getting to my actual demeanor/aura.

All of this comes before whatever I may or may not be wearing on my head.

On a side note, I hadn't realized how much of this I had subconsciously internalized and how it influenced how the way I moved and navigated my body in public. For example if I need to brush past people, I of course always say, "Excuse me"; I also often give a smile if the person can see it. I do this so easily that it's all but a reflex. But because of the breadth of my body and the brownness of my skin, there's been many a time when I feel that I actually bowled the other person over and shouted at them to get out of my way.

I'm still working on feeling safe and comfortable enough to naturally claim public space.

But yes, that is my natural body which, again, is something that I can neither readily change nor escape. It is often found quite wanting for being positive representation of my fellow Black women.

That means that I have to contend with one side of that half-truth: my natural body as it simply exists is deemed not positive representation of Black women as a whole, is considered to be the rule proven.

And the rule is that, as a Black woman, I am not presentable no matter what I step out of the house looking like. Bonnet or no bonnet.

Now when you get to my personality, traits, habits, etc…I’m very much the opposite of what is projected onto my body. The contradiction people don’t expect often starts with my voice: it’s naturally soft, pretty low in volume, and a little high in pitch. I smile readily and easily (hell, sometimes I smile and make funny faces in my bathroom mirror to make myself feel better). I’m often so agreeable and companionable that when I was a senior in high school I won the senior superlative of “Friendliest” out of 400+ other senior students. And to this day people still say that I am [one of] the sweetest, kindest people they’ve ever met.

I am a giant nerd who absolutely loves to learn and has generally done well in school all my life; when I can quiet and clear my mind enough for it, I am an avid reader. As an adult, I still often find myself being as inquisitive about the world around me as when I was a child.

More or less to White and non-Black people of color, all of these are considered positive representations of a Black woman. And people typically just have to get to the “Hello” phase with me to find out one of my above traits.

But when those positive traits are brought to light-and they’re often brought to light quickly-I am now pigeonholed on the other end of the spectrum. That is, I am no longer the rule proven but the exception to the rule.

The psyche of bigotry cannot and does not want to conceive that their target can ever be anything other than the negativities and deficiencies it projects onto them. When said target proves those projections wrong, it is just often far too difficult-possibly even unthinkable-that that single positive can renew and refresh the perception of the whole. Instead, it is much easier for the single positive be treated as an outlier, an exception so that the perception of the whole can remain the same.

White supremacy has many neuroses in place that make sure to always allow White people to win while people of color, especially Black people, always lose. One such neurosis is that when people of color have negative attributes, setbacks, traits, etc. applied to them, they remain the sore thumb that proves the rule, but if they have positive attributes, accomplishments, traits, etc. applied to them…they then become an exception to the rule.

The true phenomenon is not, “Black women, every time you step out of your house, you represent all of us as a whole” but actually, “Black women, every time you step out of your house and you say/do/are something bad or simply perceived as bad (i.e, wearing bonnets in public), then you represent us as a whole. But every time you step out of your house and you say/do/are something positive or simply perceived as positive (i.e, not wearing bonnets in public), then and only then do you represent yourself as an exception to the rule.”

And to digress a little, in my experience it honestly is not fun being deemed the positive exception. It caused me to grow up suffering a huge disassociation between who I was and what I was. From everyone including other Black girls that bullied me for being different from them to well-meaning White teachers, I started to internalize that my personality meant I was not a typical Black girl. Or barely a Black girl at all.

Long story short, it wasn’t until about my early twenties that I was able to start on the road to un-internalize that terrible mess. I learned that I can say that I am nice and kind and smart and giggly and still Black. I am a lot of good things and I am also Black Black Blackity Black. Generally positive traits are not paradoxical with Blackness because to be Black is not a bad thing that must compensated for.

Black girls and women can be and are a lot of good things and our Blackness is one of those good things.

So I’m definitely not saying that being considered an exception to the rule is any kind of accomplishment. It can actually be very psychologically damaging and take a long, long time to unlearn it.

It’s true that Black women will always be burdened with the dichotomy of the half-truth “One of us represents all of us!” because it is an inescapable part of the many neuroses of white supremacy-we lose no matter what we step out of the house looking like.

The core of the issue is not Black women leaving their houses and being visible in public with bonnets on, but Black women leaving their houses and being visible in public period. For goodness’ sake, once upon a time it was the law for Black women to cover their hair in public-hello there, Tignon.

But being unable to escape such a burden does not mean we should be surrendering to it.

We shouldn’t want to believe and buy into the idea that part of taking care of each other is taking on the impossible strain of all of us representing each other. That is not an empowering statement-it is disempowering to the extreme because it’s perpetuating the mindset that we are a monolith undeserving of our individuality. My god, we Black women come in every kind of shade and shape and size and music taste and food taste and language and dialect and we don’t all know each other and we don’t always even like each other.

I just…I’m not yet that old, but the older I get the more and more I feel that sometimes as black women we can not only be our own worst enemies and each other’s worst policers. And I wish deeply and desperately that black women would stop policing each other and policing each other for, of all things, an arbitrary acceptance that ultimately means nothing even if we could achieve it.

One of us represents just that: one of us.

#Misogynoir #Internalized misogynoir #Anti-black racism #Black hair #Anxiety tw #Amarie talks

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neutral-emerald · 4 years

Text

SILVER THE COSMIC TIME-JANITOR (or: dude, what's with all the alternate futures)

silver the hedgehog has a very simple backstory. he's a kindhearted, sorta-naive but altogether very driven psychic hedgehog here to save the world by time-traveling to the past (also known as present-day) to prevent the apocalyptic future he was born into from coming to pass!

[ID: A screenshot of Silver from Sonic 06. He’s glowing with cyan energy as he flies over a dark, post-apocalyptic city.]

...wait, if he's time traveling 200 years into the past to completely change the shape of the timeline, how do the stars manage to align such that he manages to be born at the exact same point in the new timeline with the exact same genetics? how are his parents born? does silver have parents?? and how does he do this no less than THREE SEPARATE TIMES??!

hey everyone, i'm tumblr user neutral-emerald here to make good on the idea i vaguely gestured at yesterday and point out silver's wildly inconsistent backstory(s) and then explain to you how this isn't just sega playing hopscotch with the concept of time travel, but actually TOTALLY EXPLAINABLE if you don't mind a whole lot of conjecture and "fuck dude i just think it'd be cool."

LET'S GO.

before i get started, a few things to establish.

first, this is about… half serious, tops. it’s less of a theory and more of an observation of something that’s weird and then throwing some possible explanations at it because i am a massive sucker for time-based nonsense. if you wanna take my observations and build your own conclusions, go for it. i’m not your boss.

second, i'm basing my conclusions off of both the games and the idw comics. the conclusions i draw are applicable to either continuity, but the logic does rest a decent amount on the comics, so just a heads-up in case you were expecting pure game canon from this.

and third, i'm working off like half a brain and very intermittent checks of the wiki and cutscene compilations, so there's probably many things i'm missing! if you notice something i said was wildly off-base, go ahead and correct me in the replies and i'll either edit the post or explain to you just how that detail doesn't actually matter, depending on whether it. y'know. matters.

with that out of the way, let's get into the first topic of discussion!

part 1: the future is inconsistent, y'all

now, i'm not sure if you've heard, but in the year 2006 sonic team released this little indie game creatively entitled Sonic the Hedgehog. it was a smash hit, won countless awards, and for some reason went down in history as a messy, incomplete bugfest. but that's not what matters. what matters is that it introduced Silver the Hedgehog.

silver hails from 200 years in the future. the world is a bleak, fiery place, and has been since the monster iblis was unleashed after princess elise's death. silver was born into this world, which we know since it's literally the first thing he says in his story.

[ID: A cropped line from Silver's story in Sonic 06. "This world was devastated before I was born."]

i'm not going to drag you through a beat-by-beat summary of the entire plot of sonic 06, you should know it already. silver meets mephiles, gets lied to about who caused the apocalypse, mephiles yeets him and blaze into the past, he tries to murder Sonic the Hedgehog™, and so on. eventually he helps kill god, and then sonic and elise travel further back in time to kill god even deader so that none of the game ever happened, and the bad future into which silver was born never happened, thus thoroughly scrubbing silver's existence from the timeline!

...until.

sonic rivals.

i'm not going to speak much on sonic rivals, mostly because i'm not super familiar with it. but what matters is that silver is back! he's still from the future, he's still here to change the past, and most importantly he wasn't deleted from existence by the destruction of solaris, unlike everything else from sonic 06 including everyone's memories of it. and obviously, whatever state his future is in, it's not the same as it was in sonic 06.

now, i don't have a single clue what is going on in rivals 2, so do inform me if there's some big information i'm missing from that one. all i know is he's fixing yet another possible apocalyptic future, like always. correct me if i’m wrong, i don’t have the patience to trawl through it myself.

then we've got sonic colors, in which silver is again from the future. notably, he’s definitely not from an apocalypse!

[ID: Some screenshots from the DS version of Sonic Colors, again cropped to just the text. Tails and Silver are talking to each other.

Tails: What's the future you came from like, Silver? Silver: A lot brighter than this. Silver: The sky is blue, and everybody's got a smile.]

sonic generations doesn't add much. again, correct me if i'm wrong, but i don't think we learn anything about what kind of future silver is from, and he's definitely not here to fix it this time. that's sonic's job! he's just hanging out like everyone else.

now, up until this point the future has been reasonably consistent, setting aside my somewhat abstract understanding of the rivals games. there's nothing to say that silver's not coming back in time from the same point in a single timeline, which is the one and only version of the future ever since the destruction of sonic 06.

UNTIL.

[ID: Two panels from the comic Sonic Forces: Stress Test. In the first panel, Silver looks worried as he lands in front of Knuckles, who looks skeptical.

Silver: We've got big trouble! Eggman— Knuckles: How can you be here? I thought you returned to the future?

In the second panel, Knuckles looks away with a self-assured grin, while Silver looks more panicked.

Knuckles: Oh wait— I must be dreaming! Silver: What? No! I've come back with a dire warning from the future!]

i have a lot of issues with sonic forces, especially with how its story is written. something i do NOT take issue with is the supplemental comics, mainly because they are WONDERFUL evidence for my crackpot time travel theory.

like i said, up until this point we don't really know whether silver has been experiencing separate instances of the future, or simply traveling back in time to prevent an also-time-traveling eggman nega from messing things up in the past. but here, we get some very juicy information:

[ID: Knuckles and Silver again. Knuckles has his arms crossed and is looking at Silver, who has a nervous look on his face as he slams a fist on the palm of his other hand.

Knuckles: Come again? Silver: Something happens that brings the world to ruin! But the historical records are sparse or make no sense. I came back to hopefully head off whatever's about to happen and save the future.]

silver travels back in time to prevent a terrible apocalypse. this is not the beautiful future silver came from in sonic colors— but this is the same silver. everyone recognizes him. he recognizes everyone. and yet, the future he came from is different.

part 2: silver is a walking paradox

allow me to remind you of what i pointed out when i was talking about sonic 06. silver was born into the iblis-apocalypse. considering no elaborate timeline nonsense happened to him before the events of the game (by his reckoning) i think we can safely assume he was born like a regular person with parents.

in the first post-06 timeline, silver was probably also born. let's be charitable, acknowledge that sonic team doesn't overthink the butterfly effect like i do, and say that silver was born to the same parents, because the universe likes to keep things nice and simple and contrive itself to make this particular character exist in this time period.

so, it's entirely fair that silver comes to exist in a post-06 timeline at the equivalent point in time, aka 200 years in the future. it's also fair that he travels back in time to prevent some kind of apocalypse, because that's his narrative role! it's what he does. when it's time for him to exist in the story, that's what he's there to do.

what isn't fair is the fact that it keeps happening.

[ID: A panel from the IDW comics. Sonic is stretching his legs while looking faintly exasperated at Silver, who is nervously holding his arm.

Silver: Er… No. I came back because defeating Eggman didn't save the future. Sonic: Couldn't even play along. Had to bring the mood down. Sonic: *sigh* Okay, what happened this time?]

[ID: The following panel, cropped to just Silver's text bubbles narrating over a starry sky.

Silver: When I left, my time had been conquered by the Eggman Empire. Everyone lived in fear, choking on polluted air. Silver: When I went back, the Eggman Empire was gone— but so was everyone else. Silver: There was nothing left. No people, no animals, no machinery. Only water and sparse, metallic plant life.]

allow me to summarize my understanding of all this: silver is from the future. normally, the future is good. sometimes it isn't. when it isn't good, he goes back in time and fixes things, then returns to the future to check if that fixed things.

the least conjecture-y interpretation i can come up with is that sometimes silver will go into the past, then go back to the future but end up in a Bad Timeline and thus go into the past again to fix things. there's no weird warping directly between bad timelines, he only gets there by way of the past.

but that's boring, so here's my PREFERRED interpretation.

silver hails from a good future, but sometimes it just changes. he's unstuck from time— if something weird happens in the past, he's the only one to know that the passage of fate was changed, because he went to bed in one timeline and woke up somewhere categorically worse, and the only way he can fix it is by figuring out just what caused this and going back in time to fix it.

or, to say it in a meme:

[ID: A picture of someone lying in a hospital bed with a nurse standing next to them, edited so that Silver is in the bed.

nurse: sir… you've been asleep for 2 hours silver: oh boy i can't wait to wake up in the same timeline i went to sleep in]

part 3: how did this happen?

it's one thing to point out that silver doesn't experience time like a normal hedgehog, and another thing to explain how and why this happens.

fyi, this is the part where i go wildly off the rails and start saying whatever i want. there's a ton of explanations one could come up with, most probably stemming back to sonic 06. i'm just going to go with my own, and probably not come up with a whole lot of concrete evidence because i'm just spitballing. this is me having a fun time. going "heeheehoohoo time traveling hedgehog go brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr"

so. something i haven't touched upon is that in all games after sonic 06, silver can time travel. we never see him do it, it's never explained how he does it. all we know is that he's doing it under his own power.

which is kinda odd, don't you think? should he be able to do that?

in sonic 06, we see three mechanisms for time travel. first is the chaos emeralds. if two people perform Chaos Control with a chaos emerald apiece, they open up a swirling rift in the air which can send them to different points in time and space. silver can't be doing that, for obvious reasons— he's only one hedgehog, and he's not exactly running around with a chaos emerald at all times. that can't be how he does it.

second is a time machine eggman built. that obviously can't be it; the machine doesn't exist at all after the timeline gets wiped, and again, silver is doing this on his own. he's actively antagonistic towards eggman, even. absolutely not this one.

third and finally is mephiles, who can make big purple orbs to take himself and passengers to different points in time. this obviously can't be it either, for similar reasons to number 2, right? after all, mephiles is one half of solaris, who was destroyed before he could be split off. he doesn't exist to be silver's time-traveling uber driver.

...right?

well, obviously. i'm not going to try and tell you that mephiles is secretly alive and shepherding silver back and forth between timelines for no reason. that's ridiculous. no, i'm going to try and tell you that silver is mephiles.

or rather, he's solaris. or RATHER, he's the new solaris, sorta-ascended to the role of Time God after the old one got blown out like a birthday candle.

like i said, i'm going wildly off the rails and as such don't have any concrete evidence to explain why it's this instead of something else, but hear me out. after elise blew out the flame of hope, the universe was left in an interesting situation. someone needs to be in charge of the flow of time, but the previous time-god was just unceremoniously destroyed. but all the power and energy of a time-god has to go somewhere, in some form, in some time.

with nothing else to go off of, the role of time-god starts flipping through every notable being it had interacted with. they're all solidly accounted for in the timeline, except for one. silver the hedgehog was born into a timeline that cannot exist. silver the hedgehog does not, and cannot exist. silver the hedgehog interacted quite a bit with both sides of solaris— he spent a substantial amount of time fighting back iblis, and associated with mephiles, even being one of the few people to directly experience his time travel abilities. silver the hedgehog tried and failed to absorb iblis into himself.

here's my theory: after sonic 06, the universe reasserted itself such that silver was the new Solaris. silver is not consciously aware that this is what he is, but he knows that he can time travel. sometimes the timeline will rearrange itself around silver. he is unaffected by this because he is a higher being unaffected by such petty trifles as "an origin" or "paradoxes".

silver the hedgehog probably doesn't have parents. he sprang into existence one day and everyone just kind of went with it, himself included.

oh also something i thought was neat but couldn't think of where to put:

[ID: More cropped dialogue, this time from Team Sonic Racing.

Silver: I'm fine. It's just, something bad is gonna happen. I can't explain it. I just feel it. Blaze: Have your travels through time given you precognition? Silver: I don't know. Maybe they have. Or maybe I'm just thinking too much.]

silver might be becoming psychic in a future-vision kinda way. that, or he’s riddled with anxiety. possibly both.

TL;DR

silver hails from no less than three separate timelines, his existence is a tangled web of who-knows-how-many grandfather paradoxes, and i choose to believe that he's god.

if anyone who cares more about evidence wants to gather up like, little one-off clues that support or conflict with my conclusions, go right ahead. or just throw your own arbitrary headcanons for what's going on with this at me. or incorporate these ideas into an au or something! i just want more people thinking about what the Fuck is up with silver post-06, because by god there is a WHOLE lot of potential packed in there

anyway thanks for reading make sure to like comment and subscribe—

#hey guys check out how hard i can gesture at a corkboard #is it remotely coherent? not a clue! i cannot process my own writing #sonic theory #silver the hedgehog #text #dot txt

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kurt-nightcrawler · 4 years

Text

Fairytale

Warren Worthington III x Female Reader

Request 1: Omg I just read the I have a boyfriend and the opposites attract and I'm aksjksjeje. Idk if ur taking requests, but in case u are I need more on that mother nature reader and Warren pleaaaaseee!!! Maybe something with angst, like some conflict in their relationship, but with a happy would be greatttttt I absolutely love ur writing

Request 2: Hi love!:D idk if you’re taking requests or if you’re in the works of smth, but like, I’ve had this idea in my head about your fic of Mother Nature with what she said about the weather affecting her. Like it’s winter season or smth and the sun has not been out for days (and maybe Ororo is not around to help??) so she’s feeling weak and Warren is doing all he can so she can get better🥺 I reaally love your writing💕 💕

Warnings: swearing and angst

Word Count: 12.5k

“How long will you be gone?”

“A few weeks. We should be back before December 21st.”

(Y/N) huffed, that was almost two weeks, plus the holidays were coming up. “Stay safe, okay? All I want for Christmas is you.”

Warren rolled his eyes and kissed her forehead, “I already got you a gift.”

(Y/N) thanked him and he just held her tighter.

Warren went on a mission with Raven, Alex, Kurt, Ororo, and Jean. They were going to Italy to stop some mafia mutant issue. “Which is stupid,” Scott retorted. “We live in New York. Surely the mafia isn’t only terrorizing mutants in Italy.”

(Y/N) shrugged, “Probably.”

Her mind wandered as Jubilee talked to Scott about their final for Dr. McCoy. I need to water the plants in the greenhouse. (Y/N) yawned, she felt a sudden wave of drowse come over herself. I’ve been so tired lately…

It wasn’t a mystery why (Y/N) had been so tired lately. It was because of the weather. The earlier it got dark, the less energy she had— and with it getting colder, her abilities were limited. Most of the plants in her room had gone dormant. (Y/N) was worried she would too, but it hadn’t gotten cold enough.

“I think we should go skating tomorrow,” Jubilee suggested.

“Just the four of us?” Peter asked.

“Do you see anyone else? They’re all in Italy.” Peter squinted his eyes at Jubilee as she was sarcastic. “The rink is open, it’s December, and I’m bored! I wanna pick up cute girls.”

“Isn’t ice skating like a go-to in Hallmark Christmas movies?” Scott asked.

“Why do you know that?” Jubilee asked.

“We watch those all the time on nights with the boys,” Peter explained. “They’re awful and all the same. There was one where a girl was in love with a ghost and another where a girl texted her dead mom to grieve… I’m so lucky I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

(Y/N) laughed, hallmark Christmas films were pretty cheesy and cliche.

“I mean yeah, you’re right, but that doesn’t mean we can’t go skating, or do something. Everyone is gone and we need to stay active.”

Peter and Scott both looked at Jubilee with confusion. “But we’re all in pretty good shape.”

“No, I mean (Y/N),” She whispered to the boys.

“What’s wrong with her? She looks fine.” Scott said, quickly checking her out as she was preoccupied with her phone.

“Around winter, she tends to get weaker cause it’s colder and the sun goes down earlier…”

“Yeah… We know…”

“No, you guys don’t get it. During the winter plants go into like, hibernation— and if it gets too cold and (Y/N) falls asleep she’ll go dormant. The only safe places are her room and an area set up in the lab.”

“We have to keep her awake all winter?” Peter asked curiously.

“No, we just have to make sure she only falls asleep in her bedroom and stays there. It’s the only ace place because it’s like a greenhouse sort of…”

“What happens if we don’t?...”

“She could die!”

“Who could die?” (Y/N) asked.

“Scarlett Johanson’s stunt-double. I mean have you seen the new Black Widow trailer?” Jubilee asked without missing a beat.

“Eh, I dunno. She’s a professional, plus stunt-doubles are kind of expected to get hurt… while it’s not preferable an innocent gets hurt,... they did sign up for it.”

“I never thought of it like that…” Scott said almost seeing off-handed while trying to noticeably glare at Jubilee.

“Well, I’ve got to go. I promised Catherine I’d help make gingerbread cookies.” Everyone wished (Y/N) some form of goodbye, or have fun, leaving them alone.

“(Y/N) is going to die?!” Peter almost screamed.

“No! No, no— (Y/N) is not going to die. She’s done this longer than I’ve known her. I think she was like, thirteen when these first started happening. I didn’t know (Y/N) until we were 15, but still.” Jubilee continued on, “She’ll either pass out randomly in the middle of December or January and hibernate until March or April, or she won’t go dormant and just have to spend most of the spring outside, like soaking up the sunshine or whatever. “

“Oh, okay. So this is normal. Great. (Y/N) might fucking die every winter and we just have to act like children on thin ice? Deal with it somehow?” Peter looked like he was freaking out.

“I said she’s been doing this for years, plus she hasn’t died yet. We’ll be fine.”

Scott’s gut was telling him something different, but he blamed that on his constant anxiety.

Five days after Warren left

(Y/N), Scott, Peter, and Jubilee all went ice skating. Jubilee and Peter attempted to spy on cute girls, while Scott tried to act perfect, and (Y/N) tried her best to not lean against the wall too much. It was fun, but indoor rinks are as cold as the outside ones. (Y/N) bundled up enough, but she still got chills.

Scott took everyone to some artsy coffee shop that Jean adored. He claimed they had a killer hot chocolate. Jubilee already tried it once before, being Jean’s best friend/roommate. Peter thought it was kind of watery and not that great, and (Y/N) didn’t think it was bad but…

“You overhyped it. It’s good though.” Scott pouted, and Peter laughed through Twinkie bites and hot chocolate sips. (Y/N) felt warm and fuzzy inside. Almost… sleepy…

Her mind started to drift… Warren… everything they’d do when he got back from Italy…

Their first winter holiday together… all the shitty hallmark movies we can watch with Scott and Peter… the—

“(Y/N)!”

“Huh?!” She rubbed her eyes and tried to seem awake. “What is it?”

“You were dozing off there,” Scott pointed out.

“Oh.” She scratched her head. “Sorry. Haha,” Her laugh was somewhat sarcastic. “Just don’t let me, uh… Don’t let me pass out. Wouldn’t wanna get nicknamed Sleeping Beauty.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Peter joked.

Nine days after Warren left

Peter taught everyone, or attempted to, teach everyone how to make a seven-layered cake. Jubilee and Scott kept sneaking batter, while (Y/N) was struggling to not use her powers.

“Okay, but like, I could get sugar from a plant or—“

“No!” Jubilee protested, batter on the corner of her mouth. “We— we have all these ingredients here. Why waste them?”

(Y/N) squinted her eyes, they were a bit purple, but she let it slide and grabbed sugar and other dry ingredients from the cabinets.

“If she uses too much strength she could pass out. It’s been snowing hard for the past two days, and it’s been cloudy all week.”

“Can’t she eat a protein bar or drink some coffee or something?” Peter whispered.

Jubilee shook her head, “No, she needs vitamin D. Like, from the sun. More than a normal person does.”

(Y/N) set the sugar on the counter and looked at the recipe from Peter’s mom, reading bits out loud, “We need 2 and 1⁄4 cups of sugar.” She looked at the measuring cups, trying to find the one she needed.

“Hey, Scott! We agreed no phones out,” Jubilee scolded him.

He rolled his eyes, “You sound like a teacher… I was just checking a package I ordered…”

“If you actually bought that $200 lightsaber you were telling me about,” (Y/N) joked, “I will scream.”

Peter scoffed, “Please, Jean got him that for Christmas.” His face fell soon as the words left his mouth. “Shit…”

“No, she didn’t. We had a budget and—“ Jubilee and Peter both looked at their feet, eyes wide and sheepish. “I am not worth $200.”

“You sound like Warren,” Jubilee complained, cracking eggs into a separate bowl.

“It’s true! I don’t want her to spend money on me.” He glanced at his phone again.

“She’s not going to text you. No one is allowed to bring phones on missions, because the government can like, track you and shit.” Peter reminded him.

“I know, I know… but what if something happened? What if someone died or they got stuck and stranded and—“

(Y/N) put a hand on Scott’s shoulder, “Calm down Romeo. They’re going to be fine. If something happens, Xavier will let us know.” Scott nodded, trying to believe (Y/N) was right.

Fifteen Days after Warren left

(Y/N) was getting sick and tired. Tired of her friends never leaving her alone, the panic on their faces if she so much as yawned or rubbed her eyes, she was sick of them being so nervous. More so Scott and Peter than Jubilee.

Of course, they meant well, and just wanted to make sure she didn’t fall into a coma, but she didn’t need to be doted over like a tropical plant lost in the arctic.

(Y/N) huffed as she messed with her hair in the bathroom mirror. Her leaves looked less colorful, more brown and dead, the vines around her legs were gone, and her eyes looked like she hadn’t been sleeping. She had, but it was hard, the sun went down at 5 PM, and it was cloudy and cold every day it seemed.

I just want Warren here. He’d make everything better. We could cuddle and nap together…

(Y/N)’s turned blue and red as she stopped daydreaming and ran her toothbrush underwater.

By nature, (Y/N) was not a gossip girl or a secret keeper— people saw her as a Disney princess, a few of the younger students even called her “Mother Nature”... but she had ruined her status by lying to the person she cared about most.

She didn’t tell Warren about her dormant state, about how she could sleep until possibly March. She wanted to stay awake and active all winter. She wanted to spend her time with her angel.

But he was in Italy fighting crime, and wouldn’t be back until mere days before Christmas.

She had to be awake for Christmas and New Year’s. After that, it didn’t matter.

Wait. Then she remembered Valentine’s Day.

I have to be awake for that too. And Warren’s birthday… I can’t miss those… She made herself a promise she wouldn’t go dormant this winter.

She glanced out the window as she scrubbed her teeth with the toothbrush. It was snowing again, thick heavy flakes came down almost in chunks.

Twenty Days after Warren left

(Y/N) accidentally drank out of Peter’s cup without realizing it for about thirty minutes. Why did it matter?

Peter had caffeine in his soda, and (Y/N) did not. She was planning to go to bed in her room, and wake up when the sun rose to conserve energy.

Now, she was staying up late with her friends, watching some crappy zombie movie on late-night TV.

“They could easily just move to an island. Use the old man’s boat. The zombies can’t swim!” (Y/N) argued during a commercial break.

“Yeah, but there’s never any logic in these things.” Peter drowsed.

“I guess so. It’s kind of dumb though…”

Peter shrugged and took a sip of his drink, “Yeah, but it’s like Sharknado. They make money, it doesn’t matter if it’s bad or not.”

(Y/N) didn’t retaliate, as the final commercial ended and the screen faded to black, signaling the movie was back on.

Scott couldn’t remember when he fell asleep. He rubbed his eyes and tried to see who was all around him.

Peter was passed out on the floor for some reason, Jubilee was asleep on one side of the couch… and Scott saw (Y/N), passed out with her head laying on a pillow.

“Shit! (Y/N)!” He shook her, trying to get a reaction, but nothing happened. He repeated her name trying to undo her slumber until the other two woke.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, hair tussled and eyes half-closed.

“(Y/N) fell asleep on the couch!” Scott was panicking. He had one job— one job from Jubilee, “Make sure she only falls asleep in her bedroom or else she won’t wake up until March.”

“Scott! Stop it!” Jubilee pulled him away from (Y/N)’s sleeping figure. “You could kill her!”

“What—” He turned to Jubilee, “What do we do then?”

“Peter, get Professor McCoy up here.”

“But it’s 4 AM…” Jubilee gave him a deadly glare and he sped off.

Scott was ordered to sit and be quiet while Peter got McCoy.

“She fell asleep. She drank some of my soda earlier, causing her to not be tired. We thought we could get her sleepy by watching a movie, but we all fell asleep before she did…” Peter was giving Hank a 30-second recap, with 3000 words.

“Peter, everything’s going to be fine.” Hank carefully scooped (Y/N) up in his arms, bridal style. He looked her over up close. Her skin looked pale, the leaves and flowers in her hair were gone, all that was left were dried twigs, and the vines usually wrapped around her legs were concealed by sweatpants, so he couldn’t take note on them. “I’m taking her to the medical bay. Everyone go to sleep, you can come back in the morning…” Hank glanced at the time, “You can come back later.”

The three mutants walked to their rooms quietly. Jubilee made a stop at a bathroom to brush her teeth, while Peter and Scott went straight to their dorm.

Peter used his speed to get changed and hop in bed. “I’ll leave the light on while you get changed.” Scott didn’t answer, he didn’t move. “Scott?”

“What if she dies?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“Jubilee said she’s been doing this for years, (Y/N)‘s not gonna die.” Scott still didn’t move, causing Peter to sit up and face his roommate better. “Everything will be okay. McCoy knows what to do, and this is no different than when bears go hibernate for the winter or when geese fly south. She’ll be fine.”

“We don’t know that. If something interrupts her she could die—“

“She won’t.” Peter knew he knew, what Scott was thinking. Scott did what anyone would have done. Tried to jostle her awake, he didn’t know what else to do.

“Do you know what it’s like?...”

Peter hadn’t the slightest idea what Scott was referencing, he kept his mouth shut, trying to figure it out.

“To have almost killed someone? Your parents arguing with theirs, lawsuits being threatened, your life could end before theirs and the doctors think they’re on borrowed time… How you know you deserve to be punished, and instead you’re just sent away, to be with more family and start new. You try to be better than you ever were, and people— they believe it. You deserve everything you’ve worked for… and then you go and fuck up! It’s one thing to have your mutation surface and have chunks of ceiling and a bathroom door put a school bully in a coma— but to hurt someone like (Y/N)?...” Scott’s voice trembled. His cheeks were covered in his tears. “If anything happens it’s going to be my fault. Warren’s going to blame me because everyone talks me up about how responsible I am and all these leadership qualities I have, that I actually don’t. Warren is going to kill me if she doesn’t wake up—“ He choked out a sob.

Peter was quick to wrap the boy in his arms. “Hey, hey… shh… shh… You didn’t hurt her. She’s going to be fine. Hank picked her up and carried her to his lab and she did fine. You shaking her didn’t do anything.” Scott continued weeping.

“How about you take a shower, and then we can go see her, okay?” Peter talked slower than ever before and with softness, enough to be gentle, but not so much you’d think Scott was a child.

He nodded, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.

“Okay, come on buddy…”

Hank had carefully dressed her in a hospital gown and hooked her up to various equipment. Everything seemed normal for her coma-like state. He didn’t wake her up carrying her downstairs.

Hank sat down in a chair next to her. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had no idea what to do.

This had happened before, but Hank just kept her in his lab and he wouldn’t do anything until she woke up. Sometimes students would visit to see how she was doing… Most of the time they’d just whisper and watch her for a few minutes before leaving, some made jokes about how she needed Prince Charming to kiss and wake her up.

Hank hesitated allowing Charles tell the team what happened. They wouldn’t be back for another week, and he didn’t want to cause a distraction for them.

“Hey Doc,” Peter waved. Scott was standing next to him.

Hank quickly put his glasses back on and stood up. “What are you doing awake? You should be asleep.”

“Couldn’t sleep. Figured we could come by, see how (Y/N)’s doing.”

“Yeah— she’s doing fine. Vitals are steady and her heartbeat is regular. All we have to do is wait.” Hank faked some optimism. He knew why they were there, and she was fine— except, Hank had no idea when she’d awake.

“Did you tell Xavier what happened?” Scott asked.

“Yeah, he knows. He said there’s nothing we can do until she wakes up. We have the option to wake her and keep her in the green room, but that’s easier said than done…” Scott looked pale. Hank cursed to himself for freaking the kid out. “Trust me, this is the best option for her.” Scott nodded.

“Yeah… “ Peter tried to distract him. “Why don’t we eat some leftover cake?”

“I’m not hungry Pete,” Scott answered.

“Well I am, and you’re not going to mope around down here. It’ll like, give (Y/N) a bad vibe. Come on.” Scott sighed and followed Peter out of the med bay.

Twenty four days after Warren left

Warren was exhausted, Everyone was. The mission went smoothly, or smoothly as it could, considering the number of minor injuries everyone bore.

“We’ve got a few more hours until we’re home,” Alex announced, checking in on the younger X-Men.

Ororo, Jean, and Kurt were playing go fish. Warren was watching, contributing nothing to the game but sarcastic comments and jokingly-judgemental looks.

“Great, thanks,” They replied.

Alex nodded and walked back to his seat in the cockpit. He pulled something small and rectangular out of his pocket. Warren carefully watched from the corner of his eye.

Is that a cell phone?

Cell phones weren’t allowed on missions. They were distractions, not to mention out of rage cellular fees were expensive— plus with modern technology comes tracking. Having something as minor as a cellphone on a mission could jeopardize the whole operation simply because someone wanted to use google maps and see where the nearest Starbucks was.

“Alex?”

“Yeah?” He stuck the object in his pocket.

“What is that?” Warren kept his down, as to not alert the others.

“What?”

“The thing in your pocket. What is it?”

“Warren—“

Warren was pissed. “It’s a cellphone isn’t it?”

“It’s a burner phone. In case of an emergency—“

“Why’d you take it out?”

“Hank texted me.”

“Oh, great.” Warren spat, “You bring a phone on missions in case you miss your little boyfriend.”

“Warren—“

“No!” He spoke out. At this point, everyone was watching. “You don’t get to break the rules and endanger the mission!”

“Warren, calm down.”

“You can’t tell me—“

“Someone at the mansion got hurt, bird brain. That’s why Alex’s using the burner to text Hank.” Raven rolled her eyes. Dramatic much?

“What?”

No one knew this, not even Jean. They all tuned into the conversation.

“Who did?”

“What happened?”

“Everything’s fine.”Alex lied.

“No, it’s not. You wouldn’t be texting Hank if it was.”

Jean discreetly put two fingers to her temple, trying to figure out who got hurt. Raven saw her and glared, mentally telling her to stop.

“Sorry.”

“Everyone settle down. We have a few hours left until we’re back in Westchester. Just chill out until then.”

Warren rolled his eyes and sat by himself, thinking Raven’s little distraction speech was stupid.

He couldn’t help it— acting all childish— he missed (Y/N) and he really hated having to share a bed with Kurt on missions. Kurt’s tail got all tangled and Warren’s wings were cramped.

It was different from when he’d cuddle with (Y/N). He’d wrap his wings around her, and she’d grow flowers in her sleep around them. It was soothing… He’d wake up refreshed, and looking at his wonderful girlfriend. Kurt was… a major downgrade… he was a decent roommate, but he couldn’t stand him as a bedmate.

Warren yawned, making a note to sleep for ten years and hold (Y/N) while he did it, once he got back home.

The basketball court came into view, and the ground caved in, letting Raven land the Jet in its hangar. Alex announced they were back and free to get off the ship. The rest of the team hastily grabbed their bags and ran out of the X-Jet.

Outside waiting for them was Jubilee, Peter, and Scott. Hank wasn’t there.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Warren teased Alex.

He didn’t respond.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Jean mocked Warren.

Warren did a double-take as Peter and Jubilee spoke to Raven and Ororo. (Y/N) wasn’t there.

“Hey, guys.” The three that stayed behind looked up with guilty expressions on their face as soon as they looked at Warren.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” He asked.

No answer.

Warren asked again, but more concerned, “Guys, where’s (Y/N)?”

“She’s not dead—“ Jubilee hit Peter and scolded him.

“What does that mean?”

The group exchanged nervous eye contact. They weren’t sure how to explain it, but if they didn’t Warren was probably going to attempt murder.

“She’s in what Hank calls a ‘dormant state’. Basically hibernation—“ Warren’s face visibly paled. “Except waking her up is way more complicated…”

“So she’s in a coma?...” He asked.

“Yeah, basically…” Jubilee admitted.

“How did this happen?”

“(Y/N)’s mutation, I thought she told you…”

“Told me what?” Jubilee didn’t answer him. “What, Jubilee?”

Alex put his hand on Warren’s shoulder. “Maybe Hank should explain it…”

“So she won’t wake up until March?”

“April at the latest,” Hank answered.

“And you let this happen?” He turned to Jubilee, Scott, and Peter. They were terrified of what Warren might do.

“No, no, they didn’t,” Hank defended them. “Her body just does this. It’s no different than that time of month…”

“A period isn’t four months long,” Warren mumbled.

“Let’s give him a moment alone with her.” Hank ushered everyone out, shutting the door behind him.

Warren sank in the chair next to (Y/N)’s body. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Fuck,” He mumbled. “Fuck, fuck,” Tears welled in his eyes. “Fuck!” He screamed. He put his fist up to his mouth to muffle his sobs.

“How could… Why didn’t she tell me?” Warren looked at (Y/N)’s figure. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

Warren felt his heart breaking. She looked so… so dead.

But she wasn’t. She wasn’t dead but she wouldn’t wake until March.

It was December.

“Hank said… he said, we could wake you up, but there’s a chance you’ll die. And I’d rather have you like this than dead…” He turned away and mouthed cursed under his breath.

Warren didn’t know what to do. Sure, he wasn’t necessarily one of those clingy boyfriends, whose only life purpose is to serve his girlfriend… but he really liked her.

He wanted to spend more time with her than he ever could. She understood when he had nightmares or needed space. They never fought— their biggest disagreement was on a stupid homework problem.

She made earrings out of some of his metal feathers, he learned how to take care of all kinds of plants. She showed him how to be compassionate and kind, he showed her how to be assertive and throw a decent punch.

Peter teased him all the time, saying he was “in loooove,” dragged out o and everything. He’d always tell him to shut up or piss off.

Because maybe he was in love with her.

“But I’m her first boyfriend.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t be her first love.”

“That means I’ll hurt her…” Warren’s voice cracked. “I don’t wanna hurt her…”

He didn’t know she’d hurt him.

Warren wasn’t allowed to sit at (Y/N)’s side all day, or even all week. He had work to make up for when he was in Italy— homework, mid-terms, laundry, post-mission exam— not to mention Christmas was in five days.

He tried to keep himself busy in the first two days, and he overachieved everything he had to do. Which inevitably, left him with nothing to do.

“God, you look miserable,” Peter commented when Warren made his way into the kitchen, bags under his eyes, messy bed-head hair, sweatpants hung low, and a wrinkly t-shirt.

“I stayed up, deep cleaning my closet. I’ve got some stuff I’m gonna donate.”

“That’s nice.” Jean curtly commented.

Nobody knew what to say. They weren’t sure what would trigger Warren.

“We were all gonna see Knives Out,” Scott said. “A day off for everyone, chance to get last-minute gifts…”

“Not interested.” Warren poured himself a bowl of cornflakes.

“Come on,” Jubilee almost begged. “You haven’t left the mansion at all in the past few days.”

“I have stuff to do.” He poured milk into his bowl.

“Warren, you deep cleaned your closet at midnight. You have nothing to do and this will keep you occupied for a while.” Jubilee pointed out.

He was tired, “I don’t want to leave the mansion. What if something happens—“

“(Y/N)’s going to be fine.”

Warren held his spoon tightly in his fist. “That’s what I thought before I went to Italy— Look at her now! She’s in a coma.”

“She’ll wake up in the spring,” Kurt offered up to calm Warren down.

“This could have been prevented. I should have been here—“ Warren felt himself breakdown. He started crying, and no one knew what to do. Ororo got up from her seat and hugged him. He sobbed into her shoulder.

Ororo gave him words of comfort, “It’s okay, this is normal for her. Distance will do you good. Everything’s going to be okay… You should get out, get fresh air.”

Warren nodded and wiped his eyes with his sleeve, “Uh-huh.”

“Come see the movie with us,” She suggested.

“Okay, yeah… I’ll— I’ll go get ready.” He put his bowl in the sink and went out of the kitchen.

“Holy shit.” Peter’s eyes were wide with shock. “He’s a mess!”

Jubilee swatted him with her hand, “Hush! He’s clearly upset… His girlfriend’s in hibernation until March.”

“Yeah, but like, he just started crying,” Peter stated. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Warren cry before… He just looked so broken, like, holy shit. I don’t think I was that upset when I got cheated on by my girlfriend, junior year on prom night…” The worst part is, we could have prevented this.”

“I think I’m gonna puke,” Scott mumbled.

“Hey!” Ororo chasted the two boys. “I don’t care what happened while we were gone, but you’re both acting pathetic. This is no one’s fault! Get your heads out of your asses and be there for Warren.”

“We should wake her up…” Everyone looked at Scott like he was crazy.

“And risk killing her?” Ororo asked.

“Yeah, no,” Peter answered. “Romeo may follow suit.”

Warren didn’t want to go outside, but he needed to keep busy, or else he’d start crying again.

He was a mess— he knew Kurt was tired of him staying up all night, doing anything and everything to keep busy… but when he closed his eyes he was face to face with nightmares— (Y/N)’s practically lifeless body lying in the hospital bed, her never waking up, or if she did she’d have amnesia and not remember anyone.

Warren couldn’t sleep, but staying up all night would eventually take its toll on him, or he’d run out of things to do.

Warren got changed and quickly ran downstairs to the medical bay. He wanted to check on (Y/N) before he left.

“How is she?”

“Same as she has been for the past few days,” Hank answered. “Everything’s normal, and she’s doing fine— great actually.”

Warren nodded, “Um, I just wanted to see how she was doing. I’m going out with the other X-Men… we’re seeing Knives Out… Ororo said it’d be a good idea for me to get out of the mansion.”

Hank blinked and then frowned in thought. “Yeah, she’s right. However, you seem to be doing really well, considering the situation. You haven’t spent all your time down here, but you do visit. You haven’t acted out with a huge wave of impulse emotions, but getting out for a little bit would be great for you.”

Warren bit his tongue, holding back from telling Hank the truth about how he was doing. “Yeah… I’ll um, see you later.”

Warren zoned out in the middle of the movie for a few minutes and had to ask Kurt what happened.

“Police chased them down.”

“Ah, okay.” Warren nodded. He glanced at his other friends. Scott had an arm around Jean, and they were cuddling, practically on top of each other, in the big recliners. Jubilee bought sour patch kids and was sharing the bag with Ororo. Peter and Kurt were really engrossed in the movie, and Warren was just kind of there…

He was lonely— The movie was good, and he was enjoying it— but Warren as a whole was lonely.

He put up the hard “I don’t need anybody,” exterior to protect himself from hurt. His poor relationship with his parents caused him to be cautious and made it hard for him to develop a steady healthy relationship with any authority figures in his life. His cage fighting days taught him, he was alone, and nobody was ever going to love him, and he’d have to fight to get anywhere in life.

Obviously, that proved to be false— he found confinement in Alex, (and sometimes Hank), as the older brother he never had. The community in the mansion proved he didn’t have to be so alone, and (Y/N) made him realize love is not some made-up fantasy, concocted in Disney’s headquarters.

(Y/N) felt like his best friend on most occasions, and while he had all his other friends, her being gone made him feel so empty inside.

On Christmas Eve he moped around in Scott and Peter’s room, one earbud in listening to sad music.

Scott wasn’t even there— he was doing God knows what with Jean, and Peter was playing Pac-Man.

“You can hang out with me tomorrow if you want. I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

“I’m good.” Warren knew Peter would probably run home and mess around with his sisters and mom, or awkwardly hang around the mansion, trying to find Erik and tell him about their relationship.

“Dude,” He awkwardly chuckled. “Okay, look— um, I know, nothing I say can fix the situation, but if you want to talk I’m here.”

Warren paused his music. “What was the last thing she said?”

Peter was awestruck, “She’s not dead!”

“I know—“

“She’s in a coma that she’s going to wake up from! She didn’t die.”

“I know that! I just want to know what she said before she went into the coma…”

Peter felt guilty for jumping to conclusions. Warren seemed so defeated, like a kicked puppy. “We were watching a crappy zombie movie on tv… and it was like, really bad, and we were mostly complaining about how bad it was. The last thing I remember was she said something about how the prosthetics sucked and she could have done it better with some mint leaves and slime.”

The corner of Warren’s lip rose up slightly. Typical (Y/N), but she was probably right.

“Wanna play Pac-Man with me?”

Warren sat up, “Sure.”

“He just started crying, like— I’ve never seen anyone so upset, and I thought you were dead at one point!” Scott was frazzled in Hank’s lab with Alex, Jubilee, Jean, Ororo, and Kurt.

“He seemed fine when he came down to visit her the other day.” Scott gave Hank a disbelieving look. “Well if he’s crying over little things, obviously he’s extremely stressed out and I’m not going to push him.”

Scott glanced in the direction of (Y/N)’s area in the lab, “Maybe we should wake her up.”

“Are you crazy?!” Jubilee asked. “She could die from that—“

“She probably won’t though… (Y/N) being unconscious has made Warren, everyone on edge.”

“You want an easy way out of this,” Jubilee raised her voice as she kept speaking, “If you really cared about how Warren was, you’d be trying to comfort him best you can despite your half-assed friendship!”

“It’s our fault she’s like this, Jubes! We were supposed to make sure she didn’t fall asleep anywhere besides her room, and we couldn’t do it.”

“Scott, she was getting weaker every day, this would have happened no matter what—“

His voice got louder, yet he was practically shaking, “No, we had the most simple task in the world! And we couldn’t do it! We’re the X-Men and we couldn’t even keep a girl from falling asleep!”

Jean hugged Scott, running her fingers through his hair. “It’s not your fault. She does this every year— and it’s not like you ignored her.”

“What if it was you instead? I’d be just like Warren…”

“Don’t say that—” She kissed the top of his head. “You’d be fine.”

“I think we should discuss this with Warren and the Professor before we do anything, drastic.” Hank’s final words were clearly aimed at Scott.

“We can wake her up…”

Everyone was still in the lab, but this time Warren and Professor Xavier were present. Warren didn’t move, he was focused on what Hank was telling him and what it actually meant.

“But… she could die if not done correctly. Waking up an animal early out of hibernation could kill it, but getting a plant out of its dormant season would just weaken it, if done too quickly though, it could kill the plant.”

“Hank,” Charles rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I thought we agreed, when (Y/N) goes dormant, we do not disturb her. We agreed with her parents several years ago.”

“Yeah, but that was when she was a kid. She’s older now, and everyone’s distraught. Her boyfriend—“

“Oh, please,” Charles scoffed. “If I got on my knees and tried to align the stars every time Erik got hurt, there wouldn’t even be a school.”

“Cut the crap. You and Erik fight and make up like some divorced couple in a soap opera. When Erik gets hurt, you’re always the first to know.”

Xavier didn’t say anything out loud, he just glared.

“Um, personally, uh, sorry,” Warren awkwardly cut in. “I think if (Y/N) might die if we wake her up, then it’s not worth it. And if her parents agreed, letting her sleep is the best thing, then it probably is.”

Warren didn’t even want to think about her folks. Could you imagine? Their daughter dies because some dumb goth boy couldn’t handle her taking a three-month-long nap without him. Yeah, that’d impress them.

Charles clapped his hands together, “Well, there! It’s settled then. (Y/N) is fine as she is. I know this is upsetting for her to not be present around the holidays, but we can all assume she would want us to have fun and be kind to others, showing compassion and always helping those in need.”

Warren couldn’t sleep. He was restless in bed— too hot, then too cold, he’d have the beginnings of a nightmare or no dream at all— he was sure Kurt would have kicked him out by now if he hadn’t made the decision to sleep in Peter and Scott’s room for the night.

His tossing and turning made him have to pee. He got up and went over to the bathroom.

Looking in the mirror as he dried his hands he sighed. Warren looked so tired, but he didn’t know what to do.

For the first time since Germany, he truly felt alone.

He grabbed the two gifts stored under his bed and he quietly walked down the halls.

None of the doors were locked, it was almost too easy for him to get into Hank’s lab.

He flicked on the light switch, even though he didn’t need to. Her sleeping figure made his heart almost burst out of his chest. Warren felt so awkward standing there.

He set the gifts down on a chair and walked over to (Y/N).

“Hi…” No response. “Um, I don’t know if you can hear me… but like, Jubilee and Kurt watch all those soaps and they always have characters talking to people in comas so I figured, maybe, just maybe, you could hear something… anyway, um… I miss you. I really miss you and I wish you’d said something about all this…” He sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ve been trying to keep myself busy, with homework and chores and training. It’s been driving Kurt crazy that I’m up all the time, but I can’t sleep most nights…”

He paused for a moment, for the thought of, Am I crazy? Flashed through his brain.

“I got you that fancy water filtered you wanted for Christmas… along with some mollisol soil in a jar…” He huffed in amusement while glancing at the gifts. “Peter made fun of me. He said, “No girl wants a jar of dirt for Christmas.” But I know you’d be happy with it— trying to divide it equally among every plant in your room, your eyes lighting up when you see improvements in them…” Warren looked at (Y/N) and smiled sadly.

“We haven’t even been dating for a whole year, but it feels like it’s been forever…” His eyes watered and his voice faltered, “And that’s love… Isn’t it?... Everyone tells me something different, but— I think I love you. No— I know I love you. I love you and, and, I don’t know… I don’t know what I’ll do while you’re here. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and see everyone all happy like nothing’s wrong— or Scott kissing Jean when he thinks no one’s looking if I can’t put my arm around you and pull you closer and give him a look that states we’re a cuter couple…” Warren almost laughed at himself. His dumb competition with Scott.

“I know you’d want me to pretend like nothing’s wrong because it isn’t— but it is… I don’t know what to do…”

Kurt knocked on the door of his room the next morning. “Warren! Merry Christmas!” No response.

“I need to brush my teeth.” Still no answer.

Kurt opened the door himself, “Warren?” The room was empty. “Where are you?”

“Hey, Kurt,” Scott peaked in, still in pajamas. “Everything alright?”

“Warren’s gone.”

“He’s probably downstairs already. Peter and Jubilee are, I bet he’s with them.”

“Oh. You’re probably right.” Scott bid him goodbye and went to Jean’s room. Kurt still couldn’t get the feeling that Scott was wrong out of his system.

Hank and Alex were headed down to the lab, giggling and acting like kids sneaking around.

“Alex,” Hank breathed in between laughs, “I just wanna check on (Y/N).”

“I know,” He managed between the kisses he left all over Hank’s neck.

“Give me five minutes. Then we can join the others.”

Alex frowned as Hank opened the door. “I want to be alone with you.”

“Wasn’t this morning enough?” Hank joked.

Alex rolled his eyes and hugged Hank from behind.

Hank smiles and walked into the med Bay Area, where (Y/N) was put.

He was shocked, to say the least. Alex too.

“Did he wake her?” Alex whispered.

“I don’t think so. Her heart rate hasn’t changed.”

Alex gently shook Warren’s shoulder, “Hey, kid, time to get up.”

He groaned and slowly opened his eyes, squinting to adjust to the light. “Mmmmhmmmggg…”

“Merry Christmas.” Hank teased as he looked over (Y/N)’s vitals.

“Shit.” Warren rubbed his eyes, “Did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“When did you come down here? I went upstairs at around eleven.” Hank commented.

“You got into our room at 11:37 PM.” Alex corrected him.

“Uhh, I don’t remember…” Warren was too tired to think. He wanted to get something to eat and go back to bed. He didn’t want to see everyone messing around the tree Charles got the younger students to set up. He wanted to go back to sleep right in bed with (Y/N), but he knew Hank wouldn’t let him.

“Everyone’s upstairs,” Hank said.

“I know,” Warren said back.

Alex was preoccupied with his phone. Scott kept texting him where he was— for being the younger brother, he acted like an older one.

“Look, uh, I don’t want to overstep anything—” Hank said somewhat quietly to Warren. “I know we’re not that close, but—“

Warren shot him down, “I don��t need to talk to anyone. But thanks for the offer, Hank.”

Hank pushes his glasses up his nose, “No, it’s not that… When Alex was presumed dead, and we found his body and he was in a coma… I was an emotional wreck. I spent all my time down here, worried he’d wake up any second, or never wake up, or wake up and not remember who I am… We weren’t even dating at the time. I was just so heartbroken because I wasted literal decades avoiding him and my feelings and— sorry. Sorry. I got off track… the point is, I get it. I’m not going to judge you for coming down at night to sleep with her.”

“Just, just don’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

Hank nodded understandingly.

“Whatcha guys talking about?” Alex got up and wrapped an arm around Hank.

“How much I love you,” Hank stated matter of factly.

Alex chuckled and kissed Hank’s cheek. “Don’t bother him with that. I’m sure Warren doesn’t want to hear you talk about our relationship.”

“I don’t care,” Warren told him.

“Still— go upstairs. Scott and Kurt think you got kidnapped or something.”

“Alright, alright,” Warren had to laugh, “I will.”

“We’ll meet you up there.”

Neither of the older men spoke until the door shut.

“He loves her.”

“Hmm?” Alex looked at Hank curiously.

“Warren, he loves (Y/N).” Alex hummed in agreement.

“They’re good for each other.”

Warren walked into the common room while chaos was in full motion.

Kurt was teleporting from place to place in the room, Ororo was focusing on making it snow outside, surprisingly, Peter was asleep on the couch, and Jean and Scott were cuddled under a blanket by the fireplace, obviously feeling each other up.

“Warren!” Kurt jumped down and landed at his feet. “Where have you been?”

He shrugged, “Workout.”

“Okay…” Kurt wasn’t convinced, but

“Hey, Warren! I made these brownies, they’re really good—“ She handed him one. “Here!”

“Uh, thanks.” He took a bite out of it. Gooey. Rich chocolate flavor. Yet, it also crumbled. Not half bad.

Warren smiled and nodded, telling Jubilee it was delicious. She was thrilled.

After a round of greetings to everyone, Warren sat on the couch next to Peter. “There’s a present for you…” He murmured, half asleep.

Warren furrowed his brows and looked at the tree. There was one gift left. The wrapping paper was black, with two silver bows on it. Warren smiled sadly at it, as he held it in his arms.

“Aww… It’s you!” Peter teased. Warren laughed a little, before opening it.

It was a box. Obviously, not empty. Warren removed the lid and looked through it. Inside was a disposable camera, an empty photo book, and a letter. He grabbed the letter first and read it.

Warren,

If you’re reading this, I’m either dormant or will be soon. I didn’t tell you anything about it because I’m scared. I’m scared you’d want to break up because I’m not conscious for part of the year. To most people, I’m sure it’d be a major turn off. But as Jubilee sometimes puts it, you’re ‘a little too attached’ to me to break up with me over a long nap. :) Or at least I hope so.

Anyway, I don’t want you moping over me the whole time, because you’ll just be sad and closed off and lose a lot of progress in your mental health. And I worry about you. I’ll be worrying about you quite a bit while I’m hibernating.

Uh, I can also hear everything you say to me. In case you wanna chat. I can’t say anything back, but it’s nice to listen.

I got you the camera and photobook to give you something to do. When I wake up you can catch me up on everything I missed. Take some pictures, save some memes for me, make a playlist of songs you think I’d like, movies I need to watch— Jubilee did it my first year here, and I liked it. I didn’t feel like I was wasting my time sleeping… I sometimes feel that way— I could do schoolwork, or spend time with my plants that still trudge through winter, or hang out with my friends… don’t feel sad, this is a normal bodily function… for me… You’re gonna think it sucks, which is kind of does, but I’ll try to make up for lost time… I love you…

(Y/N)

Warren couldn’t read the last few words, they’d been scratched out. He rubbed his eye, trying not to cry.

“What’d you get?” Peter asked.

“Uh, camera… So (Y/N)’s got photos for when she wakes up…”

“Aww…” Peter cooed. “That’s so cute— Hey guys! Let’s get a group photo!”

“Peter, I don’t— I don’t think that’s necessary—”

“Too bad!” Peter snatched the camera from Warren’s hands and started motioning and yelling at people to get in the frame. “I used to use these all the time as a kid— these little disposable cameras. I loved them!” Peter pressed the button, and a light flashed for a moment. He turned the dial on it and then handed it back to Warren. “You know how to use these, right?”

“Uh…”

“Great! You’ve totally got this.”

Peter was gone in a flash, leaving Warren alone.

He huffed, what was he really going to do with a camera? He didn’t want to bring his girlfriend up to speed with pop culture and all the drama she missed. He wanted to live through it all with her.

But he couldn’t…

Warren went back downstairs to the lab. Nobody stopped him from leaving or even asked where he was going. It was like he had no value in the group without (Y/N), just someone they tolerated, if that even.

He wanted to scream, knowing she could hear, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t find his voice… no words came out… just tears…

He fell down to the floor and cried. That’s all he could do.

You’re so weak! Pathetic! You can’t spend a moment away from her and you cry like a fucking baby! You don’t deserve her…

His sobs were the only things you could hear in the room.

New Year’s came and gone. The X-Men threw a party. Warren took a photo since he knew (Y/N) would have wanted to be there.

He didn’t want to be there. Soon as he took his photo he wanted to leave. He never liked parties, not as a kid, not in Berlin, and not when he came to the mansion— until he started dating (Y/N).

She got invited to several parties. Some were just dorm get-togethers with different groups of kids, others were house parties from the kids at the public school down the road, some were like this… real parties. She always wanted Warren with her when she went, and he never said no. He didn’t always enjoy them, but he didn’t mind. If (Y/N) had a good time, so did he.

But here Warren was, moping in the corner of Xavier’s ballroom.

He didn’t leave his room on Valentine’s day, despite still having classes. He trained for three hours a day, not including the group workouts and training required for all members of the X-Men.

He volunteered to go on more missions. He didn’t want to be stuck in the mansion for more than two days at a time. No one objected, he was a valuable member of the team, and the more experience the better he would get.

He was to go to London for three weeks with Ororo, Hank, Jean, and Scott.

Jean and Scott were excited because this just meant they’d somehow end up in a hotel room alone together at night, while everyone else was sleeping.

Warren was not too thrilled, as he was jealous. No need to sugarcoat it. Warren was jealous that Scott got Jean all 365 days of the year, that he never had to be away from her for more than a week, that they could flaunt their relationship and how happy they were together.

It made his stomach churn, but there was nothing he could do.

“I’m going to London for a few days… If I meet Harry Styles I’ll tell him you’re a fan…” (Y/N) laid in bed, lifeless. Warren tucked his hair behind his ears, making a note to get a haircut soon. “I’m going with Scott, Jean, and Ororo…”

He hated this. He hated talking to her, knowing she could hear him but not say anything back. It was different the few days before Christmas, but now it was all just a mess.

“Bye.” He threw his duffle bag over his shoulder and walked out.

One week.

One week with no cell phones, no homework, nothing. Sure, Warren would probably have to punch a few bad guys, but other than that he just wanted to sleep. He didn’t really care for much anymore. He tried his best to stay engaged and involved, keep himself busy, but it was extremely challenging.

A five-hour flight, with nothing to do.

“You guys excited?” Hank asked.

“Yeah!”

“Definitely.”

“I’m hoping I can use some new moves Mystquie’s been teaching me.”

“Mhmm…” Warren mumbled.

Hank glanced at him. He looked depressing.

“We’re in London for a week, I bet we’ll have some time to do sightseeing or go out.”

“Ooo!” Jean nudged Scott. “That’ll be fun, right babe?”

He nodded, “Oh yeah.”

Warren brought Peter’s walkman with him, and put in his earbuds and closed his eyes, assumingly taking a nap.

Once they arrived and checked into their rooms, Warren was still tired. He wanted to take another nap.

“So, I think we should go out tonight—” Hank handed everyone their room keys, “—You guys have been working really hard, and not much praise is given by Alex or Raven, or Erik when he occasionally shows up… but we’re proud of you.”

“Aww…” “Thanks, Hank…”

Warren just offered a smile.

“We can unpack and get changed if you guys want, we can go out and get some dinner?”

Everyone thought Hank’s plan was good, and they separated into their rooms.

“You doing okay?” Scott asked while unpacking his bag.

“Yeah… Why?”

“You didn’t say anything the whole ride here.”

“I took a nap,” Warren unzipped his bag.

“Oh.”

“I’m not going to unexpectedly burst into tears.” Warren snapped.

“I didn’t say you were—”

“Everyone thinks I am, I’m not stupid. I know you think I’m emotionally unstable and Hank’s been acting all nice on this mission because of it.”

“Are you?”

“What?”

Scott sat down on his bed, “Are you emotionally unstable?”

Warren glared at him, “I’ve been working my ass off for this mission. I’ve trained longer and harder than anybody else. Do I look unstable to you?”

“No! I just thought—”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m gonna shower and get dressed for dinner.” He walked into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Hank had asked the woman at the front desk a good place to eat. She recommended some local place down the road. He rounded up the kids, despite there only being four of them.

“A night out will do us good.”

“You’ve been saying that,” Warren mumbled.

“You didn’t have to come you know,” Ororo stated.

“I have nothing better to do with my time.”

Ororo kept her mouth shut, knowing she could have said something back, but knowing Warren, it was better not to.

The restaurant was pretty crowded, despite it being the middle of the week, but the group still managed to get a table.

Their server was friendly. They got drinks. They ordered their food.

“You okay, Warren?” Hank noticed he hardly touched his food.

“Mhmm… Just not that hungry. I’ll probably get a box.”

“Oh, okay,” Hank nodded, a little unsure.

They left the restaurant and went back to the hotel. Warren took his shirt off and laid on his bed.

“I’m gonna hang out with Jean… You gonna be okay?”

Warren let out a breathy laugh, “Yeah, yeah. Go have fun, Cyclops… I’m going to bed.”

Warren couldn’t sleep. He didn’t really want to. He turned on the tv, trying to find something to watch.

Someone knocked on the door while he was in the middle of some cooking show. Warren got up and opened his door. “Hey, Ro.”

“Hey, Jean kicked me out. Wanna go for a swim in the pool?”

“Sure.”

He quickly got changed and followed Ororo downstairs.

The got into the elevator and were quiet at first.

“I think they have a hot tub.”

“Cool.”

Ororo glanced at Warren and sighed. “I’m here for you if you want to talk.”

He nodded, “I know.”

“For real. You’re allowed to talk about your feelings.”

“I don’t want to.”

Ororo sighed, “Warren…”

He looked back at her. “I want this all to be over.”

“(Y/N)—”

“It’s not fair! Everyone in my life has left me or used me somehow— and I know she’s different, but it’s not fair! I was so happy with her and—”

The elevator stopped. It wasn’t their floor. The doors opened the reveal a young woman. She had a familiar glow to her and leaves in her hair.

Warren looked at her, feeling lightheaded at seeing her.

“(Y/N)?”

Warren woke up in his hotel bed. He wasn’t sure how he got there. He didn’t even remember going to the pool with Ororo. All he could remember was her.

(Y/N).

He looked over to his left and saw Scott peacefully asleep in his bed, sleep mask on and everything. The TV was off, and so were all the lights. Warren couldn’t go back to bed, it wasn’t an option.

He quietly got out of bed and slipped on his shoes, slowly opening the door, as to not wake Scott.

He went out to the halls. He had no plan, no idea where he was going, but he needed to get out.

He walked around, lost in the halls late at night. He wasn’t tired, but he was upset. He didn’t want to keep crying, he didn’t want to be so dependent on (Y/N), but without her—

The sound of thunder interrupted his thoughts. He looked outside and saw it was raining. It reminded him of (Y/N)— without her, all it did was rain and snow.

Hank said they were looking for someone. Someone Xaiver wanted to bring back to the mansion. This type of mission was more stealth and would require little physical fighting.

Hank got told from an anonymous source she’d be at some socialite gathering.

“Scott, Jean, you’re going to pretend to be some young, rich, American couple. Get in there, find our target, and get her alone. Convince her to come back with us if that doesn’t work let us know on the comms.”

“What does she look like?”

“Her name is Betsy Braddock—” Hank pulled up a file with all her information on his tablet.

“What does Xavier want with her?” Warren asked, anger rising in his tone.

Betsy… She left him to die in Egypt. She got him wrapped up in the Apocalypse cult nonsense. He didn’t want to see her again, he didn’t want to see her ever.

“She knows something about the attacks in Italy we dealt with around Christmas, plus she’s somewhat telepathic… I know your past with her is messy, but—”

“It’s fine. I don’t care.” Everyone looked at Warren, surprised at his statement.

“Alright. You guys know what to do— Jean, Scott, get dressed and ready for the party. I’ll get you an uber— Ororo, Warren, You guys are going to a hideout location not far from the location of the party, in case backup is needed. I’m going to stay and operate things here.

The first few hours of the mission went as expected. Jean and Scott made small talk with people, trying to find Betsy.

Warren didn’t want to see her, or more, he didn’t want her to see him in his current emotional state. But it didn’t matter what he wanted. He argued and insisted on joining this mission, and now he could see why Xavier was hesitant to let him go.

“I see her,” Jean said. “She’s not with anyone.”

Jean’s earpiece was quiet after that.

Warren and Ororo sat there for what felt like forever. Jean and Scott talked occasionally, but it was never directly to them.

The young couple eventually lured Betsy into an empty room.

“You didn’t really bring me up here to sleep with me, did you?” She asked, messing with her hair in the slight reflection from a window.

Jean shook her head, “No. But we want you to come back with us… You’ve heard of Charles Xavier…”

Betsy nodded.

“He wants you to help him with the attacks on the mutant community in southern Italy.”

“What will he give me in return?” Scott and Jean exchanged a quick glance. They weren’t exactly sure.

Scott’s voice faltered slightly, “You can…”

Jean finished his sentence. “—You can discuss that with him when we get to New York.”

Betsy turned her head to look at them, “And what if I say no?”

“We’ll chase you down until you do,” Scott stated with more confidence than before.

“Alright. I’ll go with you.”

Betsy had no idea Warren was in London, or even alive for that matter. Warren had no idea how she was going to react, and he didn’t really want to find out.

But he didn’t really have an option.

“Give us time to pack up and we can leave for Westchester,” Jean explained in the ride back to the hotel.

“Who else is with you?”

“Dr. McCoy is back at the hotel, and Ororo and Warren should be there too.” Betsy’s expression changed. “You probably know them as—”

“I know exactly who they are. I thought Warren died…”

Scott shook his head, “Nope. He’s doing great.” Scott blinked away the uncertainty hidden behind his words.

Betsy nodded, unsure what to say. She thought about maybe jumping out of the car, and never seeing these people again. She knew Warren would be angry when he saw her. She couldn’t blame him.

“He’s not upset with you…” Betsy looked at Jean, a bit shocked. “He’s hurting from something else… Don’t ask about it… just trust me...”

“Easy for you to say.” Betsy scoffed.

Jean shook her head, “You’ll see…”

“We’re here.” The driver stopped the car and the three got out.

Betsy looked up at the hotel the group was staying at, “Nice place.”

They walked in and headed to the nearest elevator. Jean was fidgeting with the comm in her ear.

“We got back about twenty minutes ago,” Ororo said.

“We’re on our way to our rooms,” Jean replied.

The elevator dinged, signaling it was at the destined floor.

They packed up quickly, and stood out in the hall, bags in hand.

Hank introduced himself to Betsy. Her response was short, she was preoccupied with her ex-boyfriend standing less than five feet away from her.

“Hi.”

He looked sad and more tired than usual. Seeing him sober was mind-blowing to Betsy, but people change. She hadn’t seen him in a few years— sure they saw each other during the Apocalypse incident, but that was a few days— she was really going to see him this time.

He didn’t respond to her. She frowned.

The plane ride was long and tedious. Betsy had nothing to do and wanted nothing more than to leave. So, she decided to try and talk to Warren again.

“Hey.” He turned his head around best he could and looked at Betsy questioningly. She nodded. “What’s up?”

“Not much.” Warren wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk.

“Cool… Cool…”

There was a pause before Warren spoke up, “Do you need anything?”

“Just wanted to talk…”

“You have other options.”

Betsy rolled her eyes.

“I don’t really wanna talk to you right now… And I don’t need you poking around in my head either.”

“I wasn’t going to,” She said calmly.

Warren didn’t respond. Betsy sighed, he was useless. Warren wasn’t going to talk even if she forced him. And she couldn’t really blame him, but she had a lingering feeling in her stomach.

Probably just my dinner digesting…

At some point, Betsy fell asleep, for when the plane landed Hank had to wake her up. She rubbed her eyes and undid her seatbelt.

“Do we have to go through security again?” Scott asked.

“Yeah, we left the country,” Hank told him while glancing at his watch.

Scott was not too thrilled. Everyone was tired to some degree. It was extremely late, and they went back a few hours due to the time zone.

“It won’t be that long. There’s hardly anyone here.”

Everyone went through security and headed to the baggage claim to get their stuff.

Jean was the first to get her suitcase— a medium-sized, teal one— Warren was next, and his was all black, to no one’s surprise, but the nametag on it looked drastic tied to the handle.

It was clear, with glitter and flowers trapped inside it. It didn’t seem like Warren at all to Betsy, but what did she know?

Hank took Betsy to an empty room and told her she could sleep there for the time being. She set her bags on the floor and looked around. There was a dated-looking wallpaper upon the walls, and the bed took up a little under half of the room.

It was alright.

Betsy rummaged through her bag for some pajamas when she heard footsteps.

Hank had left almost immediately after he showed her the room, so it couldn’t be him. She opened the door only to see Warren walking down the hall. She quietly followed him, staying several steps behind.

He went down to the main floor, and even further down into the basement.

This place is huge! Betsy said to herself.

The basement looked different from the rest of the mansion, for the walls and floor were made of metal.

Warren turned right, into a room within the basement. Betsy held her breath as she got closer.

What is he doing down here?

Betsy caught sight of a girl laying in a hospital bed. Warren sat down next to her and started talking…

That’s why he’s on edge… Betsy had accidentally bumped into something, making a loud noise.

Warren shot up, “Who’s there?”

Betsy tried to sneak out, but Warren caught her.

“Betsy!”

She froze.

“Why were you following me?”

“Why are you visiting a coma patient at three in the morning?” She asked back.

“She’s my girlfriend.”

“I mean I figured as much—”

“So leave.” He cut her off and was sharp. “Please…” He pleaded more in his last word.

She looked at her unconscious figure, “I could help…”

“No,” He was stern.

“I could—” “—You’d kill her.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” She defended.

“Yeah, you would. Her mutation makes her basically hibernate until March, so she’s fine.”

“I could still help— I’ve helped you before…”

“No, you didn’t! You were constantly going in and out of my life whenever it was convenient for you and came back when I didn’t need you too! You— you ruined my life!”

Betsy felt a wave of guilt wash over her.

“Look…” Warren sighed. “Betsy… I’m sorry. I don’t want your help… I don’t want you to hurt her.”

Betsy nodded, she knew Warren wasn’t going to change his mind.

“Okay.”

“What?”

“I won’t help you.” She left the medical room, leaving Warren alone with his thoughts.

Over the next few days, Betsy accommodated herself to the mansion, giving Xavier the information he wanted, and exploring the grounds.

She was almost always accompanied by Jubilee, per some people’s request, seeing as her past wasn’t spotless.

Jubilee was full of energy, and always willing to tell Betsy whatever she asked about.

“Who’s Warren’s girlfriend?”

“Her name is (Y/N). She controls plants. She can also grow them from her body. And her eyes change color based on her mood… She’s uh, she’s not around at the moment, but that’s not important.”

Betsy nodded along as Jubilee spoke. “Is he happy?”

“Do you miss him?”

Betsy struggled to let out a straight answer, “No— ugh— I just— I ruined his life.”

“You didn’t ruin his life!” Betsy glared at her. “Okay, okay, maybe you kind of did ruin his life, but he’s fine now. He’s just a little on edge you’re here and (Y/N) isn’t.”

“I don’t need to stay here—”

“Bullshit!” Jubilee exclaimed. “You’ve got nowhere else to go, really.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

Betsy was rarely ever alone. She was too busy helping the X-Men.

She had a few moments to herself though. She was never sure what to do. She couldn’t just up and leave and go out to some bar and sulk in a corner and come back drunk and angry— that’d paint her as extremely irresponsible. She didn’t want to bore or impose on the X-Men if she didn’t have to.

She wandered around the mansion. It was massive and somewhat old and stuffy looking, but also gave off those classic school vibes.

Betsy wandered into the basement at some point and quickly learned, that was where the X-Men trained, made battle and mission plans, stored their jet, Hank worked on costumes and more in his lab, and where their medical bay was kept.

She knew she shouldn’t be down there alone. Betsy wasn’t going to do anything bad, but it felt wrong.

She was watching a girl in a coma sleep. There were so many things wrong about that.

Of course, no one would really care, except for maybe Warren— but he had every good reason to.

“You keep visiting me.”

Betsy almost jumped. The voice had startled her. She thought she was alone.

“Jean?” But didn’t sound like Jean. Betsy couldn’t decipher who it was.

She sat there for another thirty minutes, hoping the voice would return, but it didn’t.

So she got up and left.

It was probably just a student. My telepathic abilities aren’t the strongest. It was probably just a student somewhere on the grounds…

She didn’t tell anyone about the voice. She didn’t want to seem crazy, because it probably didn’t mean anything.

“Hey, guys! I found this on my google drive! It’s a bunch of videos from Xavier’s fourth of July party!” Peter had his laptop open at a table, with a few papers spread about.

Everyone, including Betsy, gathered around Peter as he played a few video clips.

It was Warren, Peter, Scott, and (Y/N) all together in the first one. They were walking in a parking lot with shopping bags in their hands.

“We just spent—” Peter cut Warren off.

“We just spent $2,000 on fireworks! Holy fuck!” Everyone else is laughing at his enthusiasm.

“Can’t Jubilee just produce fireworks? Why did we need this many anyway?”

“It’s for the American aesthetic, (Y/N)!”

They got into the car and Peter was still recording.

“Weren’t you born in Poland or something?”

“America was founded on immigration—”

The clip was cut off, and the next one played automatically. But Betsy remembered the voice. The female one. It was like the one she heard in the basement… was (Y/N) trying to contact her?

She tried to focus as the next few clips played, she needed to hear (Y/N)’s voice again.

“Kurt, look—” Peter was still recording with his smartphone, he had zoomed in on a darker part of Xavier’s. It was a tree, and two people were leaning up against it— clearly making out.

“Jean told me she went to get more popsicles!” Kurt whined.

Everyone watching was laughing, except for Scott and Jean, who were extremely embarrassed they got caught.

“You ain’t slick, Summers.”

“Shut up.”

Footsteps could be heard. “What are we doing?” (Y/N) asked.

“Look—” Kurt motioned to the couple at the tree.

“Oh, gross. They don’t even know we’re watching! And to think… Warren went inside to see what Jean was doing…”

“Well, he won’t find out,” Kurt joked.

Betsy knew she heard (Y/N) voice in the basement… but why? Was she a ghost? Did her unconscious state allow her to communicate telepathically?

She needed to go back there, alone, but she knew that was almost impossible. Hank was almost always down in the lab, and Warren was almost always visiting (Y/N).

That didn’t really matter to her. Betsy needed to talk to her or hear her voice again. She thought about asking Jean, but she thought that would be fruitless.

She went to visit (Y/N) again, but this time she spoke to her.

“Can you hear me?”

No response.

“My name is Betsy Braddock. I know who you are and I’m not going to hurt you.”

Betsy huffed, “This is stupid!” She got up and began to walk out.

“Wait!” Betsy froze. (Y/N) said something. “You keep visiting me…”

“I’m just curious about you,” Betsy responded.

“Why?”

“I don’t know I—”

“Betsy?” Warren’s voice was stern and almost angry. “What are you doing here?”

“I can hear her. Like, with my abilities… I know you didn’t really want me down here and I understand—”

“Then why are you here?”

“I wanted to see if I could communicate with her telepathically…” She admitted. “That’s all. I’m not trying to wake her or anything.”

“I’m sorry… but I can hear people and it’s nice to have someone who can hear me back…”

Betsy, plagued with guilt, looked over at (Y/N), whos lifeless form hadn’t changed a bit, despite the obvious sadness in her words.

“I just feel, so bad and I don’t know why and… I ruined your life. There’s no shortcut, without me you would have left the fighting ring in less than three weeks… You’d have your feathery wings still… but I loved you and I couldn’t let go, and I thought bringing Apocalypse to you would make up for all the shit I did…”

“I was a kid. I didn’t even know what love meant! And I’m not avoiding you on purpose, I don’t resent you as much as I did when I first came here… but I don’t know what you want, okay? Our lives aren’t connected anymore, and I just want (Y/N) back...” Warren was biting down on his lip to keep himself from breaking down crying.

“Tell him I’m sorry.”

“(Y/N) said she’s sorry…”

Warren’s gaze shifted between the two girls.

“Why is she sorry?”

“All I’ve done since Christmas is make him unhappy and upset. He deserves someone who isn’t asleep for part of the year.”

“She said, you deserve someone who isn’t asleep for part of the year.”

Warren walked over to (Y/N)’s body, he held her hand in his. “It’s not about what I may or may not deserve. It’s about what I want and love.”

“I love him…”

Betsy was about to repeat what she said, but Warren was crying. He had let a single tear drip down.

It landed on (Y/N)’s hand. And soon as it did, her eyes flew open.

She was gasping for air, eyes squinting up at the fluorescent lights. (Y/N) heard voices.

“She’s awake…”

“It’s almost March, that might be too early—“

“—I’ll be fine,” (Y/N) interrupted. She rubbed her eyes and turned her eyes away from the lights, looking over at Warren, who was at her side, tears in his eyes.

“Betsy, go get Hank.” He instructed. Warren looked back at (Y/N), holding her hand in his, and his other cupping her cheek.

“Hi.” She murmured in a groggy tone.

“Hi.” He kissed her forehead. “I missed you.”

“I know… I’m sorry…”

“Sorry?” Warren was perplexed. “What for?”

“I couldn’t stay awake, and I hurt you, Warren. I made you cry and think you weren’t good enough for me…” She snuffled her nose.

“That’s bullshit. You could never hurt me. I was crying because I couldn’t do anything. The last time I saw you was before I went to Italy on some dumb mission— I missed you… I missed your smile, I missed how you’d make flower crowns and put them on my head, how I could go to you after a nightmare no matter what time of night it was, or how you told me I helped you become more assertive and learn it’s okay to say no, or you showing me the beauty in everything— I…” His voice was breaking, but all (Y/N) could see in his eyes was happiness. “I can’t live without you… I love you.”

“Oh, Warren, baby…” She squeezed his hand.

Warren cupped her face with his free hand and kissed her.

That one kiss said everything he wanted to say. It let out his feelings. It had passion and swiftness backing it up, followed by his undying love for (Y/N).

She kissed him back, trying to make up for the time they’ve lost. Her lips fit prefectures against his.

It was like the first time they kissed, full of everything she wanted, except much longer, with more meaning to it.

They broke apart slowly, almost as if they didn’t want to.

“I love you too…” She murmured.

#warren worthington iii x reader #x-men x reader #warren worthington x reader #warren x reader #warren worthington iii #warren worthington #angel x reader #archangel #archangel x reader #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy #x-men spinoff #ben jones #angel #ben jones x reader

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noctomania · 3 years

Text

I want you to understand the cause and effect of what has led to what is going on in texas at least re: abortion laws.

First off let me clarify: Roe v Wade was not law...yet. When you see a ___ v ___, that is an opinion. Not in the sense you may think. It's an opinion decided through litigation which means it's a powerful opinion that has been hammered out through the judicial process of a lawsuit being drawn up, and worked out in court. It could be a local, state, or federal court. Typically the ones that are most significant are federal, or ones that have come before the US Supreme Court - either because it is the federal government that is being challenged, the defendant petitions to move it to federal, or that the case has been elevated through appeals.

There are particular circumstances that determine if a case can go federal level:

"Federal court jurisdiction, by contrast, is limited to the types of cases listed in the Constitution and specifically provided for by Congress. For the most part, federal courts only hear:

Cases in which the United States is a party;

Cases involving violations of the U.S. Constitution or federal laws (under federal-question jurisdiction);

Cases between citizens of different states if the amount in controversy exceeds $75,000 (under diversity jurisdiction); and

Bankruptcy, copyright, patent, and maritime law cases.

In some cases, both federal and state courts have jurisdiction. This allows parties to choose whether to go to state court or to federal court."

Federal courts may hear cases concerning state laws if the issue is whether the state law violates the federal Constitution.

In the case of Roe v Wade, the attorney's filed to the Supreme Court since the argument was that the state law was a violation of a federal law - specifically the 14th amendment assertion of right to privacy. That is what determines the jurisdiction in this case.

RvW was decided in 1973 with a 7-2 ruling in favor of Roe's right to privacy and ultimately right to choose how to treated her pregnancy. Why hasn't it been turned into law? Obvious reasons over the years include what party is in power in executive, congressional, or even judicial circles. Right now though we have a D in the executive and congress, but something many are overlooking is the critically important and understates judicial branch - which holds significant changes Trump installed.

Also regarding congressional, though there is a stronger hold on the house (even with 3 vacancies), the senate is just barely D majority with 50 R, 48 D and 2 independent as shown in the charts below. The two Independent Senators, Bernie Sanders of Vermont and Angus King of Maine, caucus with the Democrats which brings it 50/50 and the US VP - Harris (D) in this case - is the President of the senate and ultimately serves as a tie breaker for votes as well as situations like this even divide of party members. Were the VP a republican than republicans would still have a senate majority.

I will dive more into what's going on with the senate and why even with a D majority it isn't where it needs to be as it's a bit less straight forward.

So how the hell are abortion rights being challenged? Why aren't the all powerful democrats doing anything?!

Well, they are and have been doing a lot - and I urge you in moments when you are frustrated by feeling as though "dems aren't doing anything" to dig deeper to understand how our government operates. It's very clear there is a poor comprehension of our civics system by the general population which is why I'm using this as an opportunity to not only inform but also to learn more myself. I was educated primarily in Texas public education system. I was privileged enough to have decent teachers, but there is still much to learn. I'm doing research as I write this. I've already learned a lot. Come learn with me!

Alright, you're on board with learning more? Great choice! Let's get into it.

So with dem control of executive and congressional branch, all that is left is judicial.

"Trump appointed 54 federal appellate judges in four years, one short of the 55 Obama appointed in twice as much time."

Trump also had a major influence on the nation’s highest court. The three Supreme Court justices he appointed – Neil Gorsuch, Brett Kavanaugh and Amy Coney Barrett – are the most by any president since Ronald Reagan (who appointed four) and the most by any one-term president since Herbert Hoover

Donald Trump has appointed and the Senate has confirmed 220 Article III federal judges through November 1, 2020, his fourth year in office.

The average number of federal judges appointed by a president through November 1 of their fourth year in office is 200.

Judges are supposed to be neutral impartial parties who use only what is presented in court and through the judicial process (which involves looking at current standing laws) to determine their decisions in court instead of using their personal opinion or political sway to inform them. However, as we saw all too often, trump was not interested in impartiality. He was interested in control, asserting his own personal opinion, even on occasion insisting he himself as president had more control than the constitution actually allows. So with that conflict and the fact he installed so many judges really makes huge impact on the judicial branch of our government. Since every branch is supposed to be fair and equal this causes a lot of road block when one branch is neither fair nor equal. You can't simply use the other two the gain up on the third - though in this case that would be convenient for dems, it would be much less convenient when the parties were reversed. It's also important to acknowledge the reality that D are not always impartial either - which again we will get to after judicial chat - nor are all R unfair. This can be a hard pill to swallow, even for me. Reality is not always easy to accept.

So of course appointments made by trump, of which there were many, can not be trusted to actually be acting in good faith, but in favor of personal or political interests (which also often come down to personal interest of a financial persuasion). When judges are not impartial, they may make decisions that ultimately contradict what was presented in court or what the law of the land says. Typically if a hearing with the Senate Judiciary Committee (you can see an example here of the first day of Amy Comey Barrett's hearing day 1/3) determines that there is a conflict of interest or that they are illgitimate, then ideally a judge will be blocked from appointment. This clearly also depends on the makeup and impartiality of the Senate and thus the Committee. The Committee will debate and vote on whether or not to confirm every nomination made by a President. (it used to require 3/5 of the senate or 60 votes but since 2017 only requires a "simple majority" or 51 votes for confirmation)

I want to take a quick aside here and go a little philosophical in understanding judicial impartiality, because I hope it will help you have some perspective on how it's an inherently difficult matter. Ultimately the court's impartiality comes down to checks/balances and faith. Not religious faith, but faith in humanity and honesty. Trusting that there is no hidden motive or lies or manipulation at play. We tend to have to rely heavily on the checks and balances part since faith in humanity can be easily manipulated with lobbying and politicians eagerness to look bipartisan for popularity in elections (appealing as more bipartisan is considered a way of winning over more votes like centrists and those just left and right of it). Checks and balances allows oversight of the 3 branches over one another and attempting to keep the scales balanced in order to prevent any one branch being too powerful and ultimately to avoid the US being something more like a monarchy - which was a primary goal at the time of forming the constitution and government since it is what we had fought to escape in the first place.

"So judges aren't allowed their 1st amendment rights?!"

Humans are merely humans no matter what title they have or role they play and humans are inherently flawed and partial. Nobody is perfect and some make mistakes as well as bad faith decisions for ulterior motives (could be a matter of loyalty to well funded lobbyists or even general unchecked and ultimately supported ignorance or a power grab). After and throughout checks and balances, that is where the faith part comes in that we hope we can trust judges to put their personal opinion aside and go with what the evidence presented in court and the law and super precedents tell them. We trust the Committee to do their due diligence in researching nominees and asking them tough questions. Realistically everyone can and likely will have some kind of opinion on any major issue, so it is not that anyone expects a justice to not have a personal opinion, only that they not use it to determine their decision in court. So, say i was a judge looking at a defendant accused of a civil rights infringement and i personally felt that they were guilty but there was no or not enough "valid" evidence to prove it, I couldn't assert they are guilty just based off my own opinion. I would have to depend on the evidence shown in court proving that it has infringed on precedents or existing law.

(All the appointments made by trump can be viewed more in detail here.)

"BLAHBLAHBLAH WHAT ABOUT THE SUPREME COURT"

It would be too tumultuous for me to dig into each of the 3 Supreme Court judge appointments by trump in regards to current issues around Roe v Wade, so I'm going to focus on one that is likely most relevant in particular: Amy Coney Barrett. Barrett was an appointment made when Ruth Bader Ginsburg's passing caused a vacancy in the court. (Why didn't she retire under Obama? The Senate was GOP controlled which made the odds of a pro-choice appointment being confirmed low). RGB was well known for being a strong advocate for the right to choose and for a long time was a stronghold in the court to ensure Roe v Wade was upheld. Since trump wouldn't want to lose too many votes from women and allies to women, he made the clear choice to appoint a woman which is what i would call performative in the case that though Barrett is a woman she does not particularly stand on the side of women's rights.

In day two of Barrett's confirmation hearing, Senator Klobuchar honed in on Barrett's opinions regarding Roe v Wade - especially as to whether it is considered what is called a "super precedent", an important matter when talking about codification. Klobuchar makes it clear that Barrett has said she finds Brown v BoE to be a super precedent despite the Supreme Court never impressing that opinion, but refuses to consider Roe v Wade a super precedent despite that being a Supreme Court opinion. Barrett's argument is that "scholarly literature" she has read has asserted it is not a super precedent because calls for its overrule has never ceased, where as cases such as Brown v Board "nobody questions anymore". Klobuchar digs in again asking if US v Virginia Military is a "super precedent" and Barrett refuses to answer - or as she phrases it "grade" - because it wasn't one of the cases Barrett spoke about in an article she had written.

After Klobuchar asked Barrett if Roe v Wade is a super precedent, Barrett asked Klobuchar how the Senator defines a super precedent. Reasonably so, Klobuchar - who is a senator and not a judge - scoffs and puts that responsibility back on Barrett who was nominated to be a Supreme Court judge. Barrett obliges and asserts a definition that she uses is of (supposedly not conservative) ONE scholarly opinion which depends on a case being "so well settle that no political actors and no people seriously push to overrule"

In a scholarly opinion in 2006 by Michael J Gerhardt at University of North Carolina School of Law defined a super precedent in many ways one being "decisions whose correctness is no longer a viable issue for courts to decide; it is no longer a matter on which courts will expend their limited resources."

However:

in the Roberts hearings, Charles Fried, a prominent conservative legal scholar at Harvard, agreed explicitly that Roe was a superprecedent. As solicitor general under President Ronald Reagan, Mr. Fried had asked the court to overturn Roe. But testifying on behalf of Judge Roberts, he said that Roe had become a super-duper precedent that would not and should not be overturned, because it was reaffirmed in 1992 and extended in subsequent decisions protecting gay rights and the right to die.

Here is a good example of what happens in academia and why i take "scholarly research" with a heap of salt since I have experience in doing scholarly research. When you are doing research, your audience is trusting that you have run through all the hard work of researching both sides of a specific matter - not just looking up opinions based on whether they are from a conservative or a liberal as that is not supposed to be what determines their opinion on any particular matter.

You are supposed to be actually looking into all the differing opinions on the specific subject matter. While it does help to have a context of the profile of the one giving the opinion, it is the evidence they present in their argument that is what should be prioritized in research. The audience is also trusting that the sources the researcher uses are valid, researched, and impartial and that any studies they use are peer reviewed and use proper methodology and are also impartial without any sway from funders. Since many academic resources that would elaborate on these details are often gatekept through paywalls or language or other accessibility barriers, it can be difficult for the general population to do their own research - the majority of which do not have access for one reason or another - they are left with nothing but to choose to have faith the researcher they are reading did their job earnestly.

Barrett focusing on opinions from scholars (actually it seems she is more dependent on one particular scholar's opinion - Gerhardt as seen in notes 128-132) based on whether or not they are typically conservative scholars is basing it on an irrelevant matter when she should have been taking on all opinions about super precedents and digging into comparing and contrasting them based on whether or not they hold water. It seems more like she sought a defense for her pre-determined opinion and insulated it from challenge by excluding any other assertions despite their significance. She ultimately failed at her responsibility as a researcher.

On Wednesday 9/2/21, the Supreme Court voted 5-4 to not block Texas SB8, a decision that weakens Roe v Wade.

Now this has been a very long form way of spelling out just SOME of the impact that trump has had on the judicial branch. I want to now go back to 2016 when he was elected, and try to extrapolate why what happened in that election was a serious failure in regards to those responsible for casting their votes: The People.

"We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America."

"We the people" is every single resident and/or citizen of the nation at any time. The constitution is essentially a contract drawn up between every single one of us including those born and raised here, those who move here, those who's communities were here before the formation of the nation, and those who may be a citizen but living elsewhere. The diversity of The People in every faucet of human life makes this document necessarily complicated and amendable. In consequence the way in which our government is also complicated but also amendable. One matter that has been a point of contention since the dawning of the nation is the right to vote.

Who could vote & When (.):

1776: white men over 21 who owned land

1870 Racial barriers eliminated tho 15th is not enforced by states

1920: white women can vote

1924: Native american's given voting rights

1964: Civil Rights Act - all above 21y/o may vote regardless of identifiers such as race - ensures Black people's right to vote

1971: Voting age lowered to 18

1984: Accessibility extended to disabled americans by setting accessibility standards

In between all of these are other matters that challenged the accessibility to voting for one population or another such as literacy tests, naturalization, and polling taxes. Many of the challenges were directly challenging to People of Color particularly Black Women. To this day there are still many who must fight to assert their right - a right that should never be denied, never be thought of as less than inherent. Access is less a concern for the wealthy and well to do as their needs are never on the line the way it is for people who are poor, Black, disabled, immigrant, or even just have a primary language other than English.

For those of us who have never had to fight to utilize our right to vote in our life have too often shown that we do not respect the power in this right. Or rather know exactly how powerful it is and choose to use that power in a destructive way because we aren't getting our faves. For the first many many years I was eligible to vote, I refused to at all because I do not like how our government and politicians conducts themselves. As soon as I learned about the filibuster I was so pissed I didn't want to partake at all. Have I be impacted by this personally? To an effect, but not in a way that impacts my life significant enough for me to really notice. But in congruence with other privileged decisions not to vote, it has certainly impacted many lives. In a nation where communities are still fighting to have the law meant to protect them properly enforced, it is entirely a privilege abused to choose not to vote.

Though I was 18 in 2007, 2016 I cast my first vote.

Why? Because it was finally looking as though I may face personal consequences if I didn't. Prior to 2016 i wasn't worried bc there was obama, i wasn't old enough to vote when bush was up for relection and seeing him win again embittered me further. by the time I was 18, I saw how unreliable 3rd party was despite my parents being all in that gambit, and otherwise it all felt like nobody was paying attention to the issues only on popularity contests. All i thought of though was my perspective on the matter. It was all me-centric, my choice to withhold from voting in any election. When trump started to look less like a joke and actually got traction, I saw my neighbors trump signs and i looked at where i was in life. I had also began to actually do the work and stop letting apathy guide my decisions, but to rather listen to my humanity and my responsibility as my neighbor's neighbor.

Quite literally. At the time my neighbor was a Black woman. I only spoke to her once and it was when she came by to selflessly make sure I was going to be ok when our landlord was kicking us out to sell the place out from under our feet - something I hadn't even considered doing yet seemed like second nature for her to do (to be fair i was struggling to find a place but i've no idea about her life). I wish i had gotten her name and stayed in touch, it's kind-hearted people like that that are hard to come by. I'm still working on being as selfless.

I was and am proud to have not only voted in 2016, but for my first vote to have been for a woman. I was scared and for someone other than myself for once in 2016. I had high hopes for Clinton based on name recognition and basic common sense.

Humans are not perfect. Nor are they inherently humble.

Trump encouraged arrogance among the most ignorant leaning right. Sanders encouraged arrogance in the most ignorant leaning left. Clinton seemed to always get the most dramatic fire though from both sides, which signaled to me some kind of mess was going on. My own parents tried to sell me on Sanders, but by this point I had a better concept of how to properly research and untangle the mythologies that were parroted by my own parents about Clinton. Even when I proved their parroted lies wrong they were unwilling to concede, only to move the goal post or deflect.

Now, I get to my point.

Which is to really smack upside the head of anyone who chose not to vote in 2016, everyone who is left or liberal but voted for trump, everyone who wrote in someone else. If trump hadnt made it in as POTUS, paired with the republican majority senate, the landscape of the judicial branch would not have faced such a conservative shift, it wouldn't have given mcconnell so much influence, it wouldn't have resulted in the pandemic being so much worse than it needed to be. Many lives would have been spared. You can only blame the government for so long until you realize we are the government, we install the government, and we hold power we must use wisely. We the People.

Many who voted for clinton have been critical of her. As we always should be critical of those we choose in any level of government. We the people hold responsibilities that build this nation from the ground up, and without adherence to those responsibilities it puts other's rights in danger. When we decide that something doesn't matter that much to us or weighing it against the consequences we may personally face - you're failing in your responsibility to your neighbor who is likely doing far more justice to you than you are extending to them.

Yes my white people i look at you.

Yes my white men I look at you.

Yes my white queers I look at you.

Yes my white degree holders I look at you.

Yes white youth I look at you where I once was. When I was younger and arrogant and naive and apathetic and bitter and I let all that guide my choices instead of my concern for the neighbor who was looking out for me.

I still matter in the formation and function of tomorrow's government and I'm going to make sure I let my impact be constructive for all my neighbors who have extended such courtesy to me by not shirking my main duty to make an informed vote in every election i may partake in from local to national.

The differences among us in this nation may seemingly tend to fall along party lines, what the real metric is:

Do you give a fuck outside your own home?

Or is it just about what you want, what you think, what you feel? Nothing in this nation is just involving you or your bestie or your family, we're in this together whether we like it or not. Trust me as someone who struggles daily to find the humanity in others, I know how toxic that can be to your perspective when you give into it. Believe in benefit of the doubt, believe in change, believe in your power to do good for others. Believe and invest in your humanity.

While i can be mad at conservative votes for trump that was to be expected. I'm far more disappointed in the right AND DUTY to vote being given up by so many on the left simply because their fave didn't make it to the finals. That is not how establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, or secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity. AOC and Pressley and Porter did not make it where they are by their supportive constituents abdicating their right to vote.

I accept my faults in never having voted before 2016 even in local elections. It was stupid and selfish and 2016 woke me up to that reality. You don't go from 0 to trump overnight. Do you accept your fault in not voting in 2016 when one of the most detrimental candidates was running and won?

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eldritchteaparty · 3 years

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Chapters: 16/22 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Rosie Zampano, Oliver Banks, Original Elias Bouchard, Peter Lukas, Annabelle Cane, Melanie King, Georgie Barker, Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Basira Hussain Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'll add characters and tags as they come up, Reference to injuries and blood, Character Death In Dream, Nudity (not sexual or graphic), Nightmares, Fighting

Summary: Following the events of MAG 200, Jon and Martin find themselves in a dimension very much like the one they came from--with second chances and more time.

Chapter summary: Everyone heads to Elias’s house to continue discussing their situation. Jon and Martin talk with Elias.

Chapter 16 of my post-canon fix-it is out! Read at AO3 above or here below the cut.

Tumblr master post with links to previous chapters is here.

***

Martin took the front seat for the ride out to Elias’s house. He wasn’t sure if that was what Jon preferred, but it felt like it put less pressure on him to engage with Elias. He supposed he could have made some excuse to sit in the back seat with Jon, which is what he’d really wanted to do, but that would have made what was already a very awkward occasion even more awkward; after all, Elias was doing them a favor.

He wished he’d thought before to ask Jon how he actually felt about Elias. There was no guarantee Jon would have wanted to talk about it, but he should have offered him the chance. Martin could tell Jon wasn’t comfortable around Elias, but then again, neither was he. It wasn’t Elias, necessarily—it was more about the fact that when he looked at him, he couldn’t help but see Jonah Magnus, at least for a moment.

This brought up a bigger question that Martin had thought about but had no way to really ask Jon, and that was how much he operated on what Martin imagined most people did—memories, experience, reasoning things out—and how much he operated on knowing and feeling things most people couldn’t feel. During the apocalypse it had been almost exclusively the latter, based on how incapacitated Jon had been when separated from the Eye, but he knew Jon didn’t have nearly the abilities he’d had then.

On the other hand, there had been times recently when Jon had acted on Martin’s feelings without even realizing he’d been doing it; Martin suspected it had happened more times than he knew. Was it just with him that happened?

Only half conscious of it, he turned to check on Jon in the back seat.

He’d basically succeeded in putting the thought of their bond from the Lonely out of his mind since their first big argument here. Jon had just gotten so sick, and then—well, everything else, and he’d basically filed it away, undigested, a concept he didn’t quite know what to do with. Now, as Martin watched Jon stare distractedly out of the car window and into the night outside, the thought reinstated itself.

What did it mean, now that they appeared to be heading down the same path as before? Although he detested the whole idea, maybe he was somehow essential to Jon being able to start another apocalypse—or maybe, if Jon did end up starting one, Martin was essential to whatever his plans might be afterward. Could he use that somehow to—to help keep Jon safe?

As soon as the thought occurred to him, the guilt poured in from wherever it tucked itself away. Trying to protect Jon always felt so much like working against him, and he hated it, but he still hadn’t found another way. The guilt compounded with a familiar frustration bordering on anger—no, it was anger—as he reminded himself that even if he came up with something, even if he did manage to find some small foothold of power in this situation, it would almost certainly backfire. Everything—every plan, every measure of protection he or Jon had tried to take—always had.

He realized Jon had stopped staring into the darkness outside of the car and was now looking at him.

Martin took a breath to say something—he wasn’t sure what—when Elias spoke for the first time since they’d gotten in the car.

“Everything all right?”

“Um—yeah,” Martin said, turning back around in his seat. “Yeah, it’s just late, and I—I guess I’m tired. Sorry for not being more helpful.”

“Oh, I’m fine. I do this drive a lot.”

“Yeah, I—I guess you do.” Martin glanced back to see Jon had returned to looking in the direction of the window. “I mean, every day, right?” It was an incredibly stupid question, but Martin felt obligated to make some effort to keep the conversation going.

“Well—mostly. Every now and then I stay in the office overnight.” Elias turned and caught Martin’s eye, but the resulting discomfort seemed to be mutual, and he quickly returned his eyes to the road. “Or, I suppose, more often I just don’t come in in the first place. Sasha pretends to hate it, but I think we all know she’s happier when I just stay out of the way.”

Elias laughed at his own self-derogatory remark, and Martin tried to be polite with a quick hm. He hadn’t spent a lot of time around Elias here; he’d actually done his best to avoid him, simply because he was his boss, and Elias had seemed fine with that. It was the same way he’d tried to avoid Jon before—before he’d turned out to be Jon. Sasha had always been Sasha, she’d gone out of her way to make him comfortable, but—well, in any case, he didn’t think that laughing about Elias being a shit boss was the best way to forge a relationship. He had no idea how to interact with him under the best of circumstances, and therefore tonight was a lost cause. Thankfully, Elias seemed to arrive at the same conclusion, and let the conversation drop.

Martin turned to imagining the scenery that might be outside the car for the remainder of the ride.

He assumed they had arrived when Elias turned the car off the main road, and the surface beneath the car began to crunch. They drove a short way down this gravel lane before Elias stopped the car and pulled out his phone and opened an app.

“Looks like Allan gave up on me tonight,” he said. “Give it a minute… and… there.”

Several flood lights lit up the drive that curved around in front of an impressive country house; it was an impressive house to Martin, anyway. Elias hadn’t been joking when he’d said he had enough bedrooms to go around. His surprise must have shown on his face.

“The outside’s the best part,” Elias said, as he pulled the car around near the front door. “I really don’t even use most of it. It was a family place. No idea why I hang on to it, other than—well, it works.”

“Did you grow up out here?”

“Here?” Elias asked. “No—not really. We lived in town. We came here sometimes, I guess. Mostly my father rented this one out. I sold the London place as soon as he died, and meant to do the same with this one, but—well, it’s been twenty years—twenty-five, almost? Christ—and here we are.”

“Right,” Martin said, even though he had no frame of reference at all. His mother had died with nothing but what she’d kept with her in the care home. He supposed he was grateful for that; he’d barely found the fortitude to go through the couple of boxes they had returned to him. “Well—thanks again for having us all out here.”

“Oh—it’s, um—” Elias paused. “It’s the least I can do.”

“It’s not.” They turned to look at Jon.

“Sorry?”

“I’m just saying it’s—it’s not the least you can do. It’s rather far from it, actually.”

“Well—” Elias paused again. “Look, I’m feeling sort of—”

“They’re here.”

“What?”

Headlights flashed down the drive.

“Oh, the girls,” Martin said. “Guess they left around the same time we did.” Elias and Jon were already getting out of the car by the time he finished his sentence, clearly also not eager to have a real conversation for the moment.

“Park anywhere,” Elias told them as they pulled up. “You see where Allan’s parked, and we’re not expecting anyone else.”

“Tim,” Sasha said from the back seat. “He’ll be here. Well—in a day or two.”

“He’s been here before. He’ll figure it out.”

They managed to get everything out of the cars in one go, with Elias bringing Georgie’s bags, and Georgie carrying a padded crate that emitted an occasional small sound of distress. Georgie caught Martin looking toward the crate as they walked toward the house.

“He’s not fond of car rides, I’m afraid. Do you—like cats?”

“Oh, I just like animals,” Martin said, wondering why he was suddenly feeling shy. It was interesting, feeling something like a normal emotion in the middle of all this. He couldn’t decide if it was a waste of energy or a relief. “Never really had a pet, though.”

“Well, this is the Admiral. He’s pretty friendly, at least when he’s not in the car, so—”

“Oh yeah, Jon’s told me all about him.”

“Is that so?” Georgie asked, turning to look at Jon.

“I, uh—did get to know him a bit. Before. There, I mean.”

“Right,” Georgie said, shaking her head. “It’s going to take me a while longer to get used to this.”

“All right,” said Elias, as they walked through the front door. “I know it’s late, so if you all don’t mind I’ll save the tour for tomorrow. I was thinking it might be best if you all stayed on the first floor, but there are other rooms on the second floor. That’s where Allan’s room is. My bedroom’s down there”—he pointed to hallway on the right— “and I was thinking you all could stay here.” He led them down a hallway in the opposite direction.

“There are three rooms. Sasha, this one’s just got a double. It’s the smallest room, and you’d have to use the bath across the hall here—well, I mean, there are others, but that’s the closest. If it’s ok with you—”

“Oh, yeah,” Sasha looked both tired and appreciative. “Honestly, it’s much bigger than my room at home. It’s—it’s great. If you all don’t mind, I might head off? Try and get some sleep?”

“All yours. Oh—that door at the end of the hall, that’s a linen closet. If any of you need an extra blanket or towel or anything.”

“Thanks,” Sasha said. “For all of this. Goodnight.”

They headed just a little further down the hall as Sasha closed the door behind herself. “As for the other two rooms—Melanie and—Georgia—”

“Georgie.”

“Right, I’m—I’m sorry—Georgie—I was thinking if you didn’t mind sharing the hallway bath with Sasha, this room has a super king. Or the other one’s a king, but it does have an en-suite shower. And again, there are other rooms upstairs if—”

“I’m ok with this one,” Melanie said. “Georgie?”

“Sure. Unless you two—?” She looked toward Martin and Jon.

“Oh, I don’t—I don’t think we care?” He looked at Jon, who by now also seemed quite tired. Jon shook his head. “I mean, we’ve been sharing a double, and I guess before that we just slept on the ground somewhere, you know, when we could sleep, so…”

He trailed off as he realized everyone was looking at him with slightly wide eyes—even Melanie, who had been avoiding eye contact since they had arrived. He hadn’t meant to say quite that much.

“Well,” Georgie said quickly, releasing some of the tension, “if you’re really fine with it, honestly, the Admiral’s a snuggler, so… yeah. We wouldn’t mind the extra space.”

“Here, I’ll—” Elias picked up Georgie’s bags again from where he had temporarily set them on the hallway floor, and glanced at Jon and Martin. “Are you two all right? It’s just the last door down that way.”

“Thank you,” Jon said, surprising Martin.

“You’re welcome,” Elias said, before turning to help Melanie and Georgie get settled.

Like Sasha, their room was also much bigger than the one they shared at home. Not only did the king fit in it—it would not have in Jon’s flat, as the double just about took up all the room left after the dresser and the side tables—there was also an armchair to one side of the bed and a small writing desk in the corner. He remembered Elias commenting that his father used to rent the place out.

“Bit formal,” Martin commented as he set down Jon’s suitcase, which had been the heavier of their two bags. “Big, though.”

Jon nodded and handed Martin’s bag to him before sinking on to the end of the bed. Martin took a moment to sit next to him.

“You all right?”

“Yeah.”

“Tired? Want to go to bed?”

Jon nodded. They undressed; they knew which sides of the bed belonged to each of them without asking. Just as Martin was about to pull down the sheets, he realized the only switch to turn off the light was near the door. Jon was already in bed, so he got up to turn it off. He looked at Jon as he did; his eyes were already closed.

“Jon?”

“Hm?”

“Do you feel safe here?”

“Like I said before—we’re as safe here as anywhere.”

“Do you feel safe here? With Elias?”

“Oh. I—” Jon paused, opening his eyes. “I do.”

“Ok.” Although he felt like maybe there was more to it, one of Jon’s short answers was going to have to be good enough for tonight. Martin turned off the light and felt his way back to the bed. Once under the covers, he reached out to find Jon. He realized he was glad that the king wasn’t that much bigger than their double. He felt Jon turn toward him in the dark.

Outside, through the conduit of the hallway and the walls connecting their rooms, he heard Melanie’s raised voice, too muffled to understand. She continued for a few minutes, her words occasionally peppered by some also-muffled comment from Georgie, and then there was silence again. A small part of him found comfort in it, even if Melanie was agitated. It was familiar; it was something outside of himself and Jon that he knew and still felt he could trust for what it was.

“I wonder what she’s on about?” Martin asked, yawning.

He didn’t expect Jon to answer, so he was a little surprised that he did. “That’s her business. Or—hers and Georgie’s.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean—I wasn’t really asking. Just talking.” Jon’s comment had, however, reminded him of what had happened on their ride over in the car.

“Jon, can I ask you about something? I mean—if you need to sleep—”

“I’m fine.”

“In the car tonight—when you—looked at me. Did you know what I was thinking?”

“What you were thinking? No.”

“What I was feeling, then?”

“I’m—” Jon started to move away from him, but Martin reached out to touch his arm and he stopped. “I’m sorry.”

“Look, I—I’m sure you didn’t mean to. Just please, talk to me. You—you can’t help it, can you? Sometimes.”

Jon was quiet; Martin could hear him breathing, feel him struggle with the tension in his body. He gave him a minute. “I don’t like it,” he finally said.

“I know you don’t. Is it—just me? Or are you always feeling everyone’s feelings?”

“It’s just you. Of course, it’s just you. You know why.”

“I see.” He sat with that for a moment, letting it sink in as he alternated the pressure of his fingers against Jon’s arm. He knew he was fidgeting, but Jon didn’t seem to mind it. Maybe it was helping. “What did you feel tonight?”

“You were—you were feeling guilty. You always feel guilty, but this was… sharp. And you were angry. And—” Jon shifted under his hand, but didn’t pull away again. “And it all had something to do with me.”

“I wasn’t angry at you.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“And I’m not going to give you one, other than that. I just—I want you to know that.”

“You know—it’s all right if you are mad at me. I would understand.”

“I know. But I’m not.”

Martin let that settle for a moment before speaking again. “Jon is this—new? I mean, different this time?”

“Sort of,” Jon said. “During the apocalypse, I suppose I—gravitated that way. To your feelings. But everything—everyone—was so loud then. I knew you didn’t like it, and there was always something to drown it out.”

He stopped and cleared his throat. Martin waited.

“Now… Now it’s like when it gets quiet, and all at once you can hear your own heartbeat, feel your pulse radiating through your body. And then you try to stop hearing it, stop feeling it, and—”

“And you can’t,” Martin finished. Jon’s words were becoming painful, although he wasn’t sure for which one of them. “Yeah. All right.”

“I should have told you before.”

“I know why you didn’t. It’s—it’s ok.” Martin said. “I’m sure my feelings are no picnic for you either.”

Jon moved again, but this time it was toward Martin, into his chest. The covers slipped down from his shoulder as he did, and Martin reached for them, pulling them back up. Carefully, so he would not disturb them again, he slid his arm down around Jon’s waist.

They slept.

***

Martin was disoriented when he woke up. It took a moment to remember where he was; the darkness confused him. There were windows on two sides of this room, yet both were covered with heavy curtains instead of blinds, and very little light actually came in. He sensed it was still early, but he wasn’t sure how early until he checked his phone. He hadn’t slept especially late, which wasn’t surprising given how much sleep he’d forced on his body over the last couple of days—but Jon was gone.

Jon’s clothes from the previous day were neatly placed on his side of the bed, so he’d taken the time to get dressed. Martin took that as a sign that he didn’t need to worry. He stood up and stretched, then peeked out of the curtains of the closest window. He couldn’t even see another house from where they were; the lawn extended off into the distance, with the occasional tree adding some variety to the landscape. If they wanted to be away from other people, it looked like they had achieved their goal.

He left one of the curtains open for the little light it provided, and found the small bag with his razor and toothbrush before heading to the bathroom. They had been so tired that they hadn’t even looked at it the night before. It was spacious, with two sinks and a large shower with a hinged glass door. Jon had already been in that morning—either he had been exceptionally quiet or Martin had slept very hard, and he would have believed either. He was slightly amused at his compulsion to use the other sink, the one Jon had not used.

After he had finished up and gotten dressed, he cautiously opened the door and looked down the hallway. No one was there; it was quiet. He closed the door gently behind him and headed back in the direction of the foyer they had walked through when they had come into the house; he imagined he’d find some kind of main room nearby. He passed Georgie and Melanie’s room, and then Sasha’s room; both doors were still closed.

As he drew closer to the foyer, he heard low voices from a room to the other side of the hallway. They sounded conversational, comfortable even. He quickly realized one of them was Jon, and as he continued to walk toward them he recognized the other as Elias. He froze just as he reached the doorway, not sure if he should interrupt; before he could really catch any of the conversation, however, Jon spoke out to him.

“Martin? Is—is that you?”

Is that me, Martin thought, right—but even if they had been alone he wouldn’t have called him on it after their conversation the previous night.

“Um, yeah,” he said, stepping with embarrassment to the edge of the foyer where they could see him. “I wasn’t trying to—I just wasn’t sure if I should interrupt. I can head off, if—”

“Come on in,” Elias said, looking cheerier than Martin could recall seeing him recently. He and Jon were seated in a very proper pair of armchairs, with a small side table situated between them; Elias sipped coffee from a mug as Martin entered. “I was just telling Jon about my father, which is apparently the only thing I know how to talk about when someone is forced to spend more than five minutes with me.”

“Oh,” Martin said, not sure what else to say. The room had a high ceiling and was almost uncomfortably large; there was a fireplace that didn’t appear to get much use, more armchairs, and a sofa with a large rectangular coffee table in front of it. There were windows and a large set of decorative doors in the back of the room—presumably leading to the back lawn—but like the windows in the bedroom, they all let in much less light than Martin felt like they should.

“Coffee? Tea?” Elias asked.

“Um—I’d love some tea. I can get it though, if you tell me where the—kitchen is.”

“Back that way.” Elias pointed behind himself to another doorway Martin had failed to notice. “Through the breakfast room. I’ve got one of those machines that does the whole coffee-espresso-tea-blah blah-whatever thing. Well, really, it’s Allan’s, but he finally broke me down and I started using it. Help yourself.”

Martin looked at Jon, trying to discern whether he was all right. “Go on,” Jon said, gesturing back toward the kitchen with a nod of his head. He did seem ok, Martin thought. He seemed calm, anyway.

Martin headed back to grab some tea. He had trouble thinking of it as making tea—he had a dislike for these machines, they never really boiled the water properly—but it would more than make do this morning. He automatically set out two mugs from the selection on the counter, and only when he was in the middle of adding milk did he realize he hadn’t noticed whether Jon already had one. Fortunately, he did not, and he enthusiastically reached for the cup when Martin set it in front of him.

Martin sat on the sofa, the option closest to the armchairs, but he still felt separated from Jon and Elias. It was like the furniture was spread too far apart to make up for the vastness of the room, and hadn’t quite succeeded.

“Did you sleep ok?” It took a moment for him to realize Elias was talking to him.

“Oh—yeah. Yeah, I guess I did.” Martin rubbed the side of his neck. “I actually wasn’t sure what time it was when I woke up. The curtains keep it pretty dark in there.”

“Ugh.” He had just meant to imply that it was good for sleeping, but apparently it was a sore spot for Elias. “Worst thing about this place—it’s so dark. And it really didn’t have to be, you know?” He took another sip of his coffee. “Sometimes I think my father really preferred—oh, never mind. I’ve had enough of his ghost already this morning.”

Martin took a sip of his tea in the brief but uncomfortable silence that followed; he was saved from having to think of something to say when the front door closed loudly. He turned to look toward the foyer, but no one was there.

“Oh, that was just Allan,” Elias said. “He usually heads in about now.”

“Oh. Does he—know we’re all here?”

“He’ll figure it out.”

“What, you didn’t tell him?”

“Nah. He’ll ask if he cares. He’s always pretty wrapped up at work this time of year.”

“What—what does he do?” Martin asked.

“He’s a professor at the University here in Kent.”

“Oh. In Canterbury.”

“Yeah.” Elias, who had been holding his coffee cup quite comfortably between his hands until this point, set it down on the side table. “Actually, to be completely honest—I mean, he is very wrapped up, he just gets that way—but I wasn’t sure I wanted to involve him in all this. You don’t—you don’t happen to know if Allan was all right there? In the—other dimension?”

Martin opened his mouth before he knew what he was going to say, and then turned to Jon. It was clear neither of them had expected this question, and Martin felt both guilty and grateful when Jon took the responsibility for answering it.

“He—no. He was not all right. He died. A long time ago, before you did. Did you—want to know about it?”

Elias sighed. “I just—had this feeling, I guess. I don’t know. Will it help if I know? Help him, I mean?”

“I have no idea,” Jon said.

“Huh.” Elias leaned forward in his armchair and clasped his hands together, contemplating, and then turned to Martin. “Would you want to know, if you were me?”

Martin shook his head, holding up his hands in front of him. “Oh, if Jon doesn’t know if it will help, I definitely don’t. I—”

“I know. But what—what would you do?”

“I guess—” Martin looked at Jon, who shrugged. “I’m not saying it’s right, and honestly, I’m probably the worst person to ask, but—yeah, I’d want to know.”

“Ok,” Elias said, sitting back against the chair. “Tell me.”

“He was… consumed. By a—through—a Leitner.”

“A Leitner?” Elias was confused. “Like—Jurgen Leitner?”

“That’s what we called his books,” Martin explained. “The books from his collection.”

“The collection in the archives right now,” Elias asked.

“Yes.”

“And Allan was—consumed—by a book.”

“Well, they were different there—” Martin started to say, but he was cut off by a burst of laughter from Elias.

“Of course he was.” He continued to laugh, but his laughter became more strained. “That would be exactly how Allan would go in a world full of monsters.” He leaned forward, and the laughter came to a gradual stop as he rested his head in his hands, elbows supported by his knees.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” Martin said, knowing exactly how little it helped.

“No, no—it’s—it makes perfect sense. It just—does,” Elias said, before finally raising his head. “So, what do you think—I keep him away from the Leitner collection? That’s easy enough. He’s never been to the Institute in his life.”

Martin and Jon met each other’s eyes again.

“It’s never—it’s never simple,” Jon said slowly. “I don’t know if it means anything, but it was a long time ago. Certainly the entities had an interest in you there that they didn’t here—that they don’t. That can’t—that can’t be a bad thing. For you or Allan.”

“I’m sorry,” Elias said, sitting up again. He sighed, reached for his coffee, and resumed holding the mug with both hands. Martin realized it was the way a person holds a hot drink when trying to warm their fingers, even though there was no way it could be that hot anymore.

“No need to apologize,” Martin said. “It’s—it’s a lot.”

“Tell me—tell me about Jonah Magnus. And me. I want to hear it from you.”

Jon took a long sip of tea; Martin was glad he had made it for him. “You already know the basic story. What do you want to know about it?”

“Well, ok. Why me? Why did he choose me?”

“I suppose… I suppose you did have a certain profile. You had the right social status to run the Institute. Your—experience with Allan may have primed you in some way. And—” he stopped.

“What?”

“There was no one watching you. Well, no one who—”

“No one who cared.”

“No. No one who—who would—object too strongly if you changed. Slowly. Dedicated yourself to the Institute. Became Jonah.”

“I see.” Elias turned his cup in his hands.

“On the other hand—you weren’t the only one he could have chosen. Not at all. In a very real sense, you were just unlucky. In the wrong place.”

“Sure.” He continued to focus on his cup. “Was it—was it fast, at least? For me?”

Jon sighed. “No. No, it was—long. And slow. And—terrifying.”

Martin shuddered just a little at Jon’s words; he wondered if Jon hadn’t taken it a bit far, but Elias stayed perfectly calm.

“I see,” Elias said again. “Do you think—I know you said I was in the wrong place, but—is it possible that—maybe that’s not true? Maybe that was—my purpose?”

“Your—purpose?” Jon looked directly at Elias. “What—”

“I just think—I never understood why I went to the Institute in the first place. I mean—I kind of did, I thought I’d take a low-level research job, waste some time, do something that would have pissed off my father a bit—but I never really understood why. Not really. And I ended up doing everything he wanted anyway.”

“Well—I’m only guessing, but I think there must have been some sort of pull between the two dimensions, and maybe—”

“And maybe my real reason for existing was there, in that other dimension, to be—that. Some sort of useless, waiting husk that Jonah Magnus could crawl into and—”

“No,” Martin interrupted him. “That’s not—”

“But it makes sense. Just like Allan being eaten by a book. It would explain some things—why I couldn’t just walk away from all this. It would explain why I could never find anything else to go to. If that was why I exist, and it was finished years ago—”

“Jon, please—”

“No.” Jon’s face was pale, and there was an edge of controlled anger in his voice. “That’s not a thing. It is no one’s purpose to serve them. No one exists specifically to suffer and—”

They were interrupted by the sound of voices drifting through the foyer from the hallway; a moment later, the remaining houseguests appeared.

“Morning, everyone.” Sasha seemed very refreshed compared to the previous night; Melanie and Georgie, standing behind her and talking quietly to each other, seemed maybe slightly less refreshed. When no one responded, Sasha’s cheeriness faded slightly. “Is—is everything ok?”

Elias took a deep breath and sat up; smiling, he set his now-empty coffee cup down on the side table. “Everything’s fine. We’re fine.”

Georgie yawned, having missed the nuances of the exchange. “Well—we were wondering—had anyone thought about breakfast yet?”

“Yes and no,” Elias said, standing up. “I thought about the fact that I hadn’t thought about it until this morning. I have some stuff here if anyone’s starving, but we’re going to need to go out before too long. There are a few small places nearby, but I’m thinking we’re better off going to the Sainsbury’s in town and stocking up. I can—”

“Georgie and I can do that,” Melanie said. “You’re letting us stay here, we can at least pitch in and help out with food.”

In the end, Melanie, Georgie, and Sasha all ended up leaving for the store, with plans to bring back several days’ worth of food. After they left, Elias, façade crumpling, turned back toward Jon and Martin.

“I’m sorry for—that. Before they came in. It’s very easy for me to think too much.”

Martin waited to see if Jon would say something, but he seemed very lost in his own thoughts.

“It’s—it’s all right.” He was, again, very aware of how little these words helped.

“I hope you don’t mind if I take a moment.”

“No. Not at all.”

“Help yourself to—whatever. Anything.”

“All right. Um—thanks.”

Elias stuffed both hands into his pockets as he walked out of the room, back toward the direction of his bedroom. He left his empty coffee cup sitting on the side table next to Jon, who remained sullen and withdrawn. If Martin could have easily reached over to touch his arm, physically remind Jon of his presence without disrupting his thoughts too much, he would have, but the couch was too far away from the chair.

He was pretty sure Jon knew he was there, regardless.

He turned back to his cup of tea. It had gone quite cold by now, but he drank it anyway.

#the magnus archives #tma #mag pod #tma spoilers #jonmartin #tma fanfic #my writing

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heybrewtiful · 4 years

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Headcanon

FINALLY - (it’s not quite midnight here... so it’s officially still my headcanon of the day!).

I think we all agree that Nicky loves to cook, and most likely loves opera. And it’s well known that opera and food go well together.

This is very NSFW - so putting it under a cut...

(Also had to rush to finish this because my daughter was hanging around and wasn't too keen on her seeing this!)

I think we all agree that Nicky loves to cook, and most likely loves opera. And it’s well known that opera and food go well together.

Joe is laying spread-eagled across the bed. His face is buried in a mountain of pillows, with his mouth slightly open, a small snore escaping his lips. Slowly though his snores become shallower, as his starts to awaken.

The top sheet is covering most of his body, with just his right butt cheek and leg poking out. His foot is dangling over the edge of the mattress, and is bathed in the late-afternoon sun. Toes wriggle ever so slightly, as Joe begins to stir.

He blinks once. Twice.

Joe lifts his head groggily, and smacks his dry lips together as he looks around and realises he’s alone.

Something has woken him, and he can’t quite work out what.

Then... he realises what it was.

He can hear the strains of the Puccini opera ‘Turandot’, and every now and then a dramatic yet slightly off-key (but in an absolutely adorable way) voice.

Nicky adores Puccini; to him it’s ‘modern music’. (Quite frankly anything less than 200 years old is modern to them!)

Joe grins, and buries his face in the pillow again. He screws his eyes tightly shut, and tenses all his muscles because his heart is just bursting with love for his beautiful Italian. It is so nice to hear him happy after the events only a month ago in London.

When he lifts his head again, he’s even more awake and his senses are truly kicking in. Not only can hear his Nicolo singing... but he can smell him cooking. Garlic and onion frying in olive oil. Perhaps some dried thyme? Toasted nuts? Now this is something that Nicky does very well.

Joe doesn’t need to check a watch or clock to know that it is nearing dinner time. They have managed without readily available timepieces for years, and he can tell by the sun. Watches are purely for keeping precision time when they are on a mission (and making sure they catch planes and trains on time!). Otherwise, they literally have all the time in the world.

(Almost.)

Finally conceding that his stomach is feeling decidedly empty (after an earlier afternoon of languid love making, following a long lunch at a local cucina), Joe throws back the sheet and hauls himself out of bed. He makes his way down the narrow timber staircase, treading as quietly as possible. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he creeps closer to the wide doorway leading from the living area into a kitchen with worn terracotta floor tiles. The French doors in the living area are thrown open to catch the evening breeze, and it raises small goosebumps on Joe’s naked flesh. He ignores it though, and creeps closer towards the kitchen.

Within, ‘Non Piangiere Liu’ reaches a crescendo and Nicky’s valiant effort to match Pavarotti almost brings Joe undone. His repressed snigger (of the fondest kind) catches Nicky’s attention as he is mid-song, wearing only a pair of baggy lounge pants, and holding a wooden spoon aloft. He spins on his heel and points it at Joe accusingly.

“Sneaking up on a trained assassin with a lethal kitchen implement! Not many have lived to make that mistake twice!” Nicky accuses in quick fire Italian.

“That may be so…” Joe steps forward and quickly disarms the singing Genovian chef before him, tossing the spoon onto the counter. “But I doubt any were as disarmingly handsome and sexy as I am.”

Nicky throws his head back as he laughs and pulls Joe towards him. “No one could argue with that appraisal.”

He runs his fingernails down Joe’s back, eliciting a hiss of pleasure from the other.

“Especially me,” Nicky growls and shoves his knee between Joe’s thighs and grinds his knee up under his increasingly swollen cock.

Joe throws his head back as the jersey fabric of Nicky’s pants leg creates a delicious friction.

Nicky nips the underside of Joe’s chin where his beard begins, and continues up to his left ear lobe.

“The sauce has to cook for another 10 minutes,” he whispers into Joe’s ear. “And I have plenty of left over olive oil…”

Laughing, Joe gets his own back for the earlier indiscretion with the knee by plunging his hands into the waistband of Nicky’s pants. He grabs his cock making Nicky gasp, and pumps him once. Hard.

“Well then, waste not want not,” Joe whispers back.

He lets go, backs up towards the kitchen island bench, and then turns to bend over the bench top. The coolness of the stone causing his stomach to contract slightly, but further heightening his senses. Adding further to his sensitivity, the first of Nicky’s oiled fingers hesitates slightly at his rim then slowly presses in.

Joe lets out another gasp. It’s usually the other way around, but he feels that as he was the one to walk naked into Nicky’s sacred culinary space it is only polite to offer himself up this way. Besides, he likes his darling Nicolo to take control and tease and thrill him.

After working Joe’s hole for a few minutes, Nicky stops briefly. It isn’t long, but is enough for Joe to grumble slightly in frustration at the pause in proceedings. I mean for goodness sake, they only have 10 minutes or the dinner might burn!

But… AHHHH! Suddenly his impatience is silenced by Nicky driving himself forward and in, bottoming out quickly.

Joe thrusts his ass backwards to grind against Nicky’s groin, and in return Nicky pushes forwards.

It’s a quick and dirty fuck, that absolutely blows Joe’s mind. Nicky slams into him, his balls slapping against Joe’s buttocks. The oil makes for an obscene noise, which spurs them on faster, and faster… He reaches in front of Joe, and pulls his dick in his hand.

And OH OH OH OHHHH!!

Nicky is shuddering against Joe, falling over his back and sobbing into his ear.

At the same time Joe spills all over Nicky’s fist, and the kitchen floor.

“Yusuf! Yusuf! Yusuf! Amore mio!”

Again, and again as he spasms and empties himself inside of Joe and slumps over his back.

Both are panting hard, as Joe reaches up behind him, and tangles his fingers in Joe’s hair. He can feel the perspiration has dampened it at the ends.

“Nicolò. My Nicolò.”

Suddenly the timer for the sauce goes off, and Nicky reluctantly pulls out.

He busies himself putting the pasta into the boiling pot of water on the stove for a few minutes.

Joe use some kitchen towel to clean up the floor, and then he gathers together plates and cutlery which he sets out on the small table and chairs near the French doors. He also pours 2 glasses of Marea Cinque Terra, matching Nicky’s gnocchi dish perfectly.

They sit to enjoy their meal, the view and each other’s company. Nicky in his slightly oil stained lounge pants, and Joe naked as the day he was born.

Joe suddenly reaches out and grasps Nicky’s left hand, and says earnestly, “Nicolò. Hayati.”

Nicky stops with his fork halfway to his mouth, and stares at him mouth partly open. Grey-blue eyes wide, as if expecting something deeply profound.

Joe takes a deep breath.

“I…. I really do like your singing.” A cheeky grin splits his face in two, as he kicks his chair back and tries to sprint to the stairs.

Nicky catches him near the couch, and they spend the next half hour wrestling.In the end neither is wearing pants.…

And their pasta gets cold.

For the record:

- They’re in Cinque Terre - about 2 hours out of Genoa on the coast.

- Nicky makes gnocchi with walnut sauce. A really amazing Ligurian dish which is one of my favourite Italian recipes!

- I don’t speak Italian very well, so I only chucked in one phrase. Apologies if i got anything wrong!

#headcanon of the day #joe x nicky #nicky x joe #yusuf x nicolo #nicolo x yusuf #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #immortal husbands #the old guard #tog #quick and dirty

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theaspiringwanderess · 3 years

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The West Coast Trail; A Vancouver Island Adventure Of A Lifetime

The West Coast Trail is one of the most, if not the most, iconic Canadian west coast adventure a hiker could ask for. It is a 75km test of both physical and mental endurance in one of the most stunning environmental settings you have ever seen. Not everyone that sets out for this great journey completes it, but those that do have a tale to tell for a lifetime and a forever bond with those they meet along the way.

Having completed this epic trail twice now, my approach is to blend a little bit of old and new into a (hopefully) wondrous tail that offers context, wisdom and insight to the journey, while describing the magical things you will experience and the challenges you will face. I’ve also prepared additional posts for your reading pleasure on Packing: Food/Clothes/Essentials and Booking: Reservations/Transport. So please, grab a hot cup of tea, throw on those comfy pjs and sit back and enjoy the read.

Handy References and Information Material

Every great hike starts with research, especially this one! If you haven't heard of it yet, look up the famed book Blisters and Bliss: A Trekker's Guide to the West Coast Trail by David Foster and Wayne Aitken. This awesomely 80′s comic styled guide adds a little light-hearted humour to a highly detailed account of the WCT which is revised roughly every couple years. It offers both trekking options (north to south AND south to north!) and gives you all the step by step nitty gritty deets in between including history, objects of interest, geological features and safety tips! I suggest taking it with you and read about the section ahead each night. Also, opt to keep it in a safe pack pocket, don’t put it in a plastic bag (I did this my first time and sadly lost my copy to the inescapable moisture and mold).

Check out the West Coast Trail Facebook Page! This page is not manned by Parks Canada. However, it is a great place to meet other hikers, find someone looking to ride share, ask questions and for advice, learn about recent developments and important information (washed out bridges, danger sections, wildlife sightings or concerns... even hear about annoyed hikers picking up others garbage...not kidding lol).

Oh! And there is also a Women’s West Coast Trail Page!

Parks Canada Website. Duh, right?! But you may not realize that Parks Canada has some handy info regarding what to pack (and what not to!), emergency items, wildlife warnings, necessary fees, maps, tide tables, tips and more to make your hike a happy one. Check out the Planning For WCT page here.

You'll also find online a plethora of websites, blogs and articles dedicated to WCT info, tips, advice, and more. I encourage you to read a few personal accounts to get a real life feel of what others experience. Here are some of my favourites (don’t let the names scare you!), plus a very cool and scholarly article from UofBC on the effects of colonial-style tourism in the area and on the local indigenous tribes written in 2020. Fascinating read.

Hike The WCT (website)

Walking the wild coast : territory, belonging, and tourism on the West Coast Trail (UofBC Open Collection)

Lost On The West Coast Trail

How Not To Die On The West Coast Trail

The Facts

The West Coast Trail is 75 km long. That's on the map and, best as I can figure, relatively "as the crow flies". It does not account for the extra steps, the ladders, the climbing, the crawling, the descending, etc, you get the picture. Both times I've gone my fitbit has read almost double or more the distance in 'real ground covered'. For example, when they say its 5km from the Gordon River Trail Head to Thrasher Cove, my fitbit in both cases recorded over 12 km when all was said and done. When they tell you it takes on average 5-6 hours to do that stretch, and you're only covering 1km or less an hour, this is why. You will chuckle in the orientation, as many have, and think, "ya, if you're a SNAIL!", but you will soon realize it’s about the terrain and that you're essentially doing double or more the physical effort to cross it. The same is true for nearly all the trail, even the "easy parts".

Safety First - the majority of accidents and injuries occur in the first 13 kms on the south side of the trail, from Gordon River at km 75, to Camper Bay at km 62. The trail accommodates just over 7500 people a year. Of that, Parks Canada evacuates roughly 80-100 injured persons annually and Nitinaht villagers have claimed to ferry out 100-200 additional hikers off the trail as well, due to injury, misery, etc. It won’t be a bear or cougar that takes you out, it’ll be the wilderness itself. A fall from a wet log or slimy stone is the most common culprit, and it may not even be the fall itself, but what you land on. Sharp rocks, jabbing sticks, etc all cause serious injury. And it always happens when you're TIRED. Don't push yourself. Take a break, have a snack, don't go farther in a day than your body can handle. Better to be a day late than waiting 24 hrs in the bush with no morphine and a broken leg for a boat ride that surely will be agonizing. Just sayin' here...

The WCT historically was maintained for shipwrecked mariners. Many have lost their lives along this trail. I don’t understand how it doesn’t have its own ghost story yet! It has an amazing history with lots of ship wreckage to see along the way if you time the tides right.

Lastly, the temperate rainforest that engulfs the WCT is not only stunning but globally very rare, encompassing less than 1% of ecosystems across the earth. Here you will see plants, trees and animals that may not exist anywhere else on our planet. The Sitka Spruce for example is among not only the tallest trees in the world, but also the oldest, some 700-1000 years old. This means they have seen North America as it was before European Settlers touched it. They are revered by many and highly sought after by loggers, which often leads to conflicts. Many extremely unique animals also reside in the WCT, like the islands' black bears which are actually larger than mainland black bears with massive skulls and only one unique colour phase. The island is also home to cougars, Victoria's famous mini-deer and sea-wolves, the only wolves in the world that have adapted to life on a coastline, they call the Pacific Coast home. With a completely unique diet of seafood they are genetically different from mainland wolves and have also been known to swim in the ocean for many kilometers.

My West Coast Trail Story

Now, before we begin, I'll preface this by saying, don't mistake me for a pro; I am simply someone who has made it off the WCT twice [relatively] safely and lived to share my tale. If you are looking for expert advice I'd say check out the Parks Canada website or the Blisters and Bliss book. But if you are looking for a heartwarming and informative, real life account of the experience, you've come to a great place.

I am now amongst a lucky few that have had the enormous privilege to have hiked the West Coast Trail not only once, but twice in my lifetime thus far. I say thus far because this trail has such a special place in my heart I expect at some point I will likely attempt it again. It changed my life and has had an everlasting impact on the lives of those around me. I learned a lot about myself and even more about those closest to me. What I am capable of, the importance of preparation and planning, the bonds you create with people you meet along the way and the love of those that support you going and take care of things while you're gone. I simply couldn’t have done this without the support of my amazing husband, friends, parents and sister and my wonderful sister in law whom we stayed with this time. But most importantly I missed the encouragement and support of my mother-in-law who lived on the island and sadly has passed since my first trip. She and her friends played such an instrumental role in my first journey with my sister, buying us foods, housing us, driving us, and just overall being so excited to see us off, I truly missed her this time but I know she was there with me in spirit.

In this way the West Coast Trail is a life-shaping experience like no other. You will learn much about yourself, be in awe and hopefully inspired by the incredible natural world around you and you will meet fellow Canadians and global trotters and, in turn, become a part of their WCT story. Let me be amongst the first to congratulate you on this epic endeavor and wish you the happiest, and safest, of journeys and hopefully I can send you off a bit more well prepared for the adventure.

First Timers VS Second Timers

My experience as a first time WCT hiker was extremely different from my second expedition in every way possible.

The first time I hiked the WCT I went with my youngest sister Jenna. We had both hiked and camped before but this was a new experience and everything was raw, a bit scary, amazing and beautiful all at once. I think it just hit us both like a ton of bricks when we landed at the base of that first ladder across the Gordon River. Although Sharon had talked to me for months, mentally preparing me for the hike, when Jenna and I both looked up at the rest of our start group scaling that first beast, looming up from the small beach landing, I know we both had the exact same thought, like, "oh shit, this is for real...".

Why the WCT? Sharon, my good friend and co-worker, had previously attempted it before turning me onto it. Due to an unfortunate incident with her hiking companion, they had to turn in the towel. She has since rocked it twice more and was an absolute wealth of information, support and the wisdom that only an experienced female hiker, mom and athlete can be. Much of what I am sharing with you today began with her. She continues to inspire me every day with her ferocity and determination and boundless want for adventure.

At the time of my first hike in 2016, my mother-in-law lived on Vancouver Island and she and her best friend Jill had kindly arranged for us to stay at another friend's cottage just outside Port Alberni. The friend and her husband fed us well and the beauty of the setting was unimaginable. But the anticipation of what lay ahead weighed heavily on both Jenna and I and neither of us barely slept a wink. The next morning we had our last hot shower and flush toilet experience for the next 7 days and the 4 of us set out for the Gordon River Trail Head.

We piled into Jill’s car the following morning. The ride was long, on gravel switch back logging roads, but the supportive company made the nervous anticipation bearable. I feel like I did not appreciate the ride as much as I should have at the time, but a few 5 am bus rides (and much experience) later, I certainly cherish the thought my mother-in-law and Jill had put into making the beginning special for us both.

Since then, I've booked my island hike transports with the West Coast Trail Express bus. The folks there are super helpful and the experience has always been a good one. In 2018, a WCT facebook group was created which has made connecting with others looking for ride shares and doing the trail much easier AND more informative! You can read about this page and other research options at the top of this post if you missed them ;)

When 2016 saw Jenna and I land at Gordon River's Information Station, I was greeted with an amazing surprise... Sharon and Jackie (another friend) had pre-purchased for me a WCT t-shirt. I cried, there were no words. When 2021 saw Krista and I land at Gordon River's Information Station, I was greeted with a sense of the familiarity of the adventure and vicariously enjoyed the wonder of someone else now experiencing the trail for the first time... READY?!.. and INHALE... can you smell it..? the Adventure?! It's like greeting an old friend again, for the first time.

It's Like Those Choose Your Own Adventure Books, Where You Pick Your Ending...

Remember those..? Maybe..? When Starting the WCT, you can plan to start at either entry point, Gordon River to the south or Pacheena Bay to the north, or now even halfway at Nitinaht. There are advantages to all, so it just depends what is most appealing to you. Most people do the trail within a 6-8 day time frame. This gives a good balance of time vs pack weight. I always try to plan for an extra emergency day, just in case. Things happen here... Long stays requires more provisions and a heavier pack. Shorter stays (in my personal opinion) are extremely challenging, unless you have done the trail before, are very skilled in lightweight packing and are an expert hiker. I still wouldn't recommend it. Plus, if you're going that fast, you're rushing by so much, what's the point? If you've paid and taken the time to be here, enjoy it! That being said, when Jenna and I did the trail we were treated to watching marathoner and athlete Jen Segger run it in one day. ONE DAY. She currently holds the women's record for WCT completion at 13 hrs 44mins (as posted here on her page under 2016). Of course she had no pack and support runners with her and a camera crew. But as she ran by us I think both our jaws dropped. It was like watching Super Woman run by you and you were just lucky if her sweat spayed you as she passed by.

When you start out, keep in mind your pack is at it's heaviest. Starting at Pacheena Bay entry point means you'll be hiking the easiest parts of the trail first. You'll make excellent time here and cover the most distance over the shortest number of days. Although all areas of the trail offer exquisite and unique beauty, in my opinion the north end is the most magical. Maybe because by the time I reach it Im half delirious and most certainly exhausted so the easier hike is a much welcome break. Both times I've hiked the WCT I have opted to start at the southern trail head point known as Gordon River.

Starting at Gordon River means that you get through the most difficult terrain right at the beginning, when you're freshest, well rested and eager to set out. You also have the added benefit of anticipating the terrain getting easier (rather than harder). To me, this is the most logical approach and why I prefer this route and honestly, there is just something that seems slightly disillusioning about expecting something to get harder along the way. When Jenna and I first made it up that initial ladder we came across several groups finishing their hike. One in particular stuck out, a group of three female friends. We passed the first two who were happy and chatting and weirdly gave us a (mild) warning to disregard their companion, who was somewhere behind them. Ok... sure, we thought. Then along came the third girl... muttering, swearing under her breath, we contemplated what she might do to her companions if she caught up to them and we joked about how that likely was the end of that friendship. 2016 was a much busier year, pre-covid and all, and we met so many more people, Canadians, Germans, Chinese and Auzzies!

2021 though is the year of the Canadians! If you happen to head out on the WCT this year, although you will still experience a wide range of people (Canada is an extraordinarily diverse nation!), rest assured most currently reside within Canada. Hello Homies! It was, however, a much more muted WCT experience than my past one. Although the Parks staff assured me they have had lots of people come through (I asked!), and the online bookings are sold out, it seemed so much quieter day to day. At the time Krista and I arrived, Parks staff were still only doing outdoor basic debriefing, prior to which we were expected to watch an online information video covering the basics. This was in stark contrast to the very in depth orientation Jenna and I had to attend back in 2016.

Fellow Canadians, Tsk Tsk...

The biggest difference I noticed that could be as a result of the minimized debrief is the amount of garbage. There is NO garbage removal on the trail. Parks staff DO NOT haul garbage out (its a remote wilderness, do you really expect garbage men??). The WCT is accessible by foot (as in, you hike in... for 75 km) OR by boat, the latter being weather and safety dependant in extreme occasions (ie emergency evacuation). At each campsite we stayed, hikers THIS year (the trail was closed 2020) have left copious amounts of garbage. It’s in the bear bins, on the trail, the beach, in the outhouses... it’s EVERYWHERE. The worst by far was Camper Bay with stinking tuna cans and bags in every bear bin and Cribbs Creek, where the garbage pile extended to a massive bottle collection BEHIND the bear bin.

Why do sites have bear bins in the first place? Because human food and waste smells amazing to BEARS! So we lock it away to keep it, and us, safe. This does not mean a bear can’t smell it, it just means they can’t access it. Now, what happens when food rots and gets stinkier...? Of course it's more enticing. This draws bears, and other animals, to the campsite, which puts your safety, and the safety of each camper, at risk. I have to give Krista major kuudos here because that girl dug in deep, cleaned someone else's mess at each site we stopped at and even hauled out other people's stinky gross trash. Please give her a round of applause for thinking about you because she deserves it. And as Canadians, seriously, we can do better right??

Da' Debrief

Apologies, now that’s out, let's get on. During our debrief we learned some important key points.

2021 has seen unprecedented amounts of animal sightings and encounters. Primarily bear and cougar. There has also been more daytime sightings of wolves, which is considered extremely rare. With the trail closed in 2020, lack of human presence has caused a larger wildlife presence. Be aware, practice safety, travel in groups. Groups are also being asked to accommodate single hikers to reduce risk.

There is a lot of maintenance to be done that wasn't able to be accomplished in 2020 due to the pandemic. Be prepared for washed out boardwalks, bridges and rotten boards. There is also fewer Parks staff to help with this upkeep. Luckily, local members of indigenous tribes, called the Trail Guardians, historically help in a huge way with this and you may even run into them on the trail! We saw their team arrive in their new boat leaving Walbran and at Pacheena we spoke to a Parks staff who's uncle is on the team. It's a small world here.

Following the debrief, the Parks staff escort you to the Gordon River ferry. The fellow here takes you across and plops you down on the small sandy beach, gathers up any hikers waiting for a ride back and heads off on his way. And there you are, left to stare at a huge ladder, really, the first of many.

up, Up, UP You Go!

In 2016 Jenna and I patiently waited at the end of the line to be the last two up the ladder and I tackled the climb with my 50lb pack in tow (phew!). In 2021 Krista and I were the only two standing on the beach, me revelling in my 'barely there' 38lb pack. The trail was our oyster!

The trek from Gordon River to Thrasher Cove is the most challenging and physically demanding on the trail. We left on the 11:30 ferry and finally walked into Thrashers Cove at 5pm - Yes, it DOES take that long. You actually don't see many ladders, a few here and there, but best believe you are still climbing! You scramble up rock faces, you squeeze past trees, you choose your footing extremely carefully and all the while up, up, UP you GO! Even over rocks and hard ground the trail is fairly well worn and easy to follow... most of the time. A short while in you come to the first bridge over the first creek. I have stopped here both times to fill up water bottles, but beware, the scramble back up is more difficult than it looks this year due to the fallen trees. Mountain Goat level scuttling expertise is advised! Much further along, not far from Thrashers, you'll eventually comes across the famed Donkey Engine! This year you will find it to be directly in your path, where as in 2016 I’m quite sure we looked down on it somehow from a higher elevation. Either way, it’s epic and makes for an amazing photo op! To think that thing was hauled by beast and hand up that hill still blows my mind.

Along the way we met a very nice gentleman named Wilson who had intended to hike the WCT with his son. Unfortunately, due to a graduation re-scheduling mishap his son was unable to come, but Wilson decided to soldier on. He was incredibly happy, thoughtful and polite and asked if we minded if he tagged along as we hiked. He regaled us with tails of his trails, immigration to Canada, his wife and family and much more; he was a fascinating fellow! With the wildlife warnings this year, Parks staff request that no one hike alone, if you can, allow a solo hiker to tag along so everyone can stay safe. We graciously obliged and enjoyed his company and great conversation for a couple more days until we parted ways at Nitinaht comfort camping.

Thrasher's Cove is an amazing, but small, campsite. I recall vividly in 2016 the trail down to the beach being extremely treacherous, with steep and slippery embankments and so many ladders! By comparison our 2021 descent seemed like a cake-walk. Here I was, boasting to Krista the challenge that lay before her, but when we got there it was literally a quick hop and skip down. She found anything I said after that to be hard to believe and was convinced I was totally embellishing. It really made me realize how MUCH the trail changes and what dynamic metamorphosis must have occurred in 6 years! I also realized how hard Trail Guardians and Parks staff must work to maintain all this constantly worn out infrastructure. It must a BEAST. Be warned, if you arrive to Thrashers too late in the day it will be tough finding a spot. If this happens to you, check out the south side of the beach, sometimes there's a bit more space there. Ironically, I have set up my tent in the exact same spot both times, right in front of the tiny triangle cave around the rock wall on the south side of the beach. I have claimed this spot now.

Knock, Knock, It's The Ocean!

This is also where knowing how to read your tide tables is extremely important. While camping on the beach you must pitch your tent above the high tide line. The high tide line is where you can see the sand was last wet on the beach. It's not where the water is when you arrive. Look for the wet point on the sand and keep your tent a few good feet above that. When Jenna and I first arrived at Thrashers, I was confident in my tide table reading skills; being from Alberta, I took the time to learn how to read them in advance. But, during the orientation the Park staff had warned our group that our first night was due to be the highest high tide of the year - intimidating to a couple prairie girls! And, which is also a thing if you read up on the moon cycle! (Actually there is a lot of news this year on the effects of the moon's impending orbital wobble on tides, its a fascinating read if you're interested!). So, naturally a bit cautious and overly leery of the horror stories of campers waking up to soaked tents in the middle of the night, my poor sister was worried sick. Exhausted but too afraid to sleep, I promised her I'd stay up till high tide to make sure we were safe. She soon passed out and I settled in reading my book. But the surf was loud and near, a thundering, crashing rukus with each wave and about 2 hours in my sister jolted straight up in her sleeping bag, scaring the ba-geezus outta me crying out 'IS IT HERE?! IS THE OCEAN HERE YET?! ", big-eyed I just stared, then broke out laughing; I settled her back down, reassured her we were safe, now passed the time of concern, and wiggled down into my own sack to drift off. It's still an inside joke to this day and once in a while we chuckle to each other about the time the ocean came knocking.

2021 brought me its own surprise when at 4am I awoke to an unusual scratching noise against our tent next to my head. We had wrapped our rain covers around our [empty] backpacks and snugged them up against the tent to stay dry and save space. Apparently the local otter family found them fascinating and decided to check them out on their morning stroll. An alarm clock certainly fit for the WCT.

It's A Beach Walk, Not A Cake Walk

Leaving Thrasher's Cove you have two options! You can take the beach route if you time the tides carefully OR you can take the inland route. In 2016 Jenna and I sojourned the inland route. Although the inland hike was pretty, if I'd found the trek down to Thrashers tough, the trek back up would've been classed insane. Sharon’s favourite saying is, what goes down must go up. In 2021 Krista and I timed the tide, leaving at 7:30am, to take the beach route. Although we'd planned to avoid what turned out to not be a bad climb, I'd really wanted to see the famous sea caves! The sea caves themselves were nothing short of AMAZING. There is just no other word. I was so in awe that in my mind they seem to take up almost 3 days of our trip, not just half an hour on the second day.

Although we'd planned to aim for Cullite Creek Campground day 2, we hit a major snag. As we traipsed along, well after the sea caves, we came to a rocky sea shelf that rose high out of the water. As you look up, you might catch a glimpse of some buoys, which commonly mark the beach access to the trail and campgrounds. Thinking this was our access back onto the trail, as you must go inland from here to Campers, we headed up along the higher shelf. We passed an unusual 'Danger' sign. We looked around, but could not identify anything that seemed out of the ordinary for where we were. We kept on. We came to a similar sign on the rock, but again, failed to see what was obviously dangerous. Wasps? Bear den? Surge Channel? There was no fallen bridge, no down ladder. Everything seemed ok. We reached the buoys, and Krista lifted her leg to step over a small trickle of a water... That's when it happened.

Danger on the Trail...

Before she could even complete her step, both feet flew out from beneath her and her whole body, pack and all, smashed onto the rock shelf. She began rocketing like a she was on a pro waterslide down the embankment towards a 9 foot drop into the water pool below. I had the wherewithal to shout out 'grab a rock!', and in the 3 seconds that seemed like 3 hours, I had the presence of mind to ponder how I might explain this to her mother back at home and 4 year old son if things went sideways... but with a 38lb pack on myself and being a few feet behind, there was no way I could move fast enough to do anything but yell.

Luckily, mid-slide, she managed to grab a handhold just long enough to stop and get some footing. Crisis averted, but the damage was done. Wearing shorts, she was sporting some nasty road rash on her cheek and arm, but most of the damage was buffered by the hoodie she'd had tied around her waist. She was bruised, but she was lucky.

Feeling pretty roughed up, we opted to stay at Camper Bay instead and rolled in about 1pm where we washed and treated her ailing buttocks and gave her some much needed pain meds. Along came a few more groups and we felt a bit less sheepish learning 2 of them had also had the exact same experience. Pride slightly less wounded, we made some new friends for the chatter and laid back and chilled for the afternoon. On your parks provided trail map, you will see a small note in red pointing to BA 'B' (beach access B) that warns about a dangerous slope just past the surge channels after Owen Point. It's not kidding.

If you stay at Camper Bay, it's a lovely and large campsite with lots of room for everyone. However, it has a habit of getting very windy, like all the time, and the only time it's not is when the sun goes down. If you're early enough, grab one of the sheltered tent spots in the woods/taller grass along the creek side. It also has a rep for early morning rain and fog. Something about the geography here seems to create its own micro-environment. If you walk out along the beach at low tide and cross the creek to the north, you'll see some neat tidal pools and caves in the rock wall. In the one with the small pool of water you might see a single lonely fish with the pool all to himself. I hope one day the tide washes him in friend.

Reminiscing...

Ironically, day 2 in 2016 was also the day I had a mishap of my own. Tired and worn down, toddling after Jenna across a log bridge the width of my car, I misstepped. My feet were somehow gone and in a second I found myself sitting on my ass, straddling the log instead of walking on it. I peered down into the 6 foot drop below. Completely in disbelief I suddenly realized Jenna was yelling at me "Are you OK?!" ... Yes! I was! I was ok. Nothing was broken, hurt or otherwise. But it was a wake up call. If you are tired, take a break, don't push on or try to keep up with someone faster. Only hike as fast as your slowest hiker and be patient. Take a breath and remember, the goal is no one dies out here... hopefully.

Gone Are The Days Of Legendary Mud And Tilting Ladders That Make You Poop ... Just A Little

The few days that followed are a bit of a blur. There's so much to see and so little blog space to include it all! We left Campers Bay on a foggy, rain mist morning at about 10am. Since we had to take the inland trail there was no worry about racing the tide on this stretch. We chatted with the couple we met the night before (Mat and Lauren from Calgary!). Everyone was a bit tired that morning.

Although we saw some mud, with a historic heat wave just prior to our trip in 2021, the legendary mud pits that the WCT has typically been known for were non-existent. In 2016 Jenna and I spent most of our inland trail time figuring out how to cross mud-holes, watching where each other stepped and trying not to fall in up to our armpits (I kid you not). This time, there was no mud and if you disagree with me, go again after it rains. I dare you.

This is also the section where we saw the most ladders, most notably through Cullite Creek, which was sadly such a trickle there was no need for the cable car, we just rock hopped across (with ease). We saw some really cool art done along the trail by the Guardians in the new bridge and log cuttings, some even signed their names! Have you tried making a curve with a chainsaw? I was impressed.

This section also has a neat and unique stretch of boardwalk that goes through a fragile wetland. Sections of the boardwalk were out, it looks easy, don't let it fool you!

A brand-spank'in new suspension bridge calls Logan Creek home! In 2016 Jenna and I had to climb a harrowing series of crazy, half-tilted ladders to get to the bridge. I recall my favourite as being the third ladder in a tower, that was so amazingly on a 10 degree angle sideways, and scaling it with my 50lb backpack. It was all I could do not to roll off and meet a perilous end at the bottom of the gully. Today the beautiful new bridge almost disappointed with the ease it took to cross it. NO more ladder climbing, you just walk up the stairs and off you go!

We arrived in Walbran Campsite at 5:30, the creek is perfect for swimming if it’s warm enough. Several groups had a run-in here with a couple breaking the fire ban policy. People on the WCT take this seriously, keep in mind if you start a forest fire here, there’s no where to go and it puts the homes of indigenous peoples at severe risk too. We all simmered, had a tasty meal, chatted with our travel companions, explored the beach a bit and turned in for the night, thoroughly exhausted.

We spent the next two days going from Walbran Campsite to Cribbs and then to Tsuisiat Falls. Due to a problematic and confrontational cougar in 2021 there is no camping permitted along the trail between kilometer 34 to 38. So, naturally, your last stop prior to Nitinaht Narrows is Cribbs Creek.

The Stretch from Walbran to Cribbs is basically all beach walk. The beach is lovely, but don’t let 'beach walk' fool you. It’s just as challenging to walk in sand as it is through forest... and you thought it was going to be easier, didn’t you?! It's like walking through snow without snowshoes and being 30lbs heavier...what a Canadian thought. But! Fear Not! along this stretch is also the famed Chez Moniques burger stop and the Carmanah Lighthouse! The lighthouses are closed to the public this year due to covid, but it’s still a sight to behold as it beams brightly through the fog.

The Legend That Is Chez Moniques

In 2016 Jenna and I made a critical, but common, food planning error. We packed meals based on what we felt was healthy and would give us energy, without accounting for taste. In other words, we packed a lot of dry lentil-based meals that tasted awful and took forever to cook and I couldn't have forced down my throat if you had paid me. I love beans, but dried lentils on the trail... yech! You can read more about our cautionary tale in my food section, and if you're uncertain about foods to pack, it’s worth the read!

So, sufficed to say, that year we had the absolute pleasure of experiencing Chez Moniques in it's prime. It was incredible. Here we were, in the middle of nowhere, exhausted, starving (I was anyway lol), and run off our feet. And out of nowhere arose this mirage of a tent with burgers, fancy meals, peach ciders and more! My god it was intense. We kicked off our boots, stuffed our faces, chatted with Monique, the legend herself, and I protectively cradled the best Okanagan Cider that had ever touched my lips while we waited for the tide to recede. It was magical.

Sadly, between 2017-2018 both Monique and her husband tragically passed away. It was a blow felt around the world by all those who had passed through their doors and experienced their generosity. There is a lovely documentary attributed to their memory here. Today, in 2021, following a devastating 2020 with no business, Monique & Peter's grand-daughter, Katrina Knighton is trying to carry on the dream though the restaurant will be renamed as Nytom. We heard lots of chatter and some hikers did actually see her in person, but unfortunately there are some struggles, including keeping up supply levels, which they are walking in for 1.5 hours (!). We missed them this year, as did many hikers, and I was so sad Krista would not experience it. But! They are rumoured to have services most often morning and around 5pm. Katrina is also very active on the WCT Facebook page, so feel free to drop her a line there for more info!

We arrived in Cribbs Creek at about 2:30pm. It was the end of our Day 4 and what a campsite it was. Lovely soft sand under your toes and beautiful beach. There is nothing here for swimming but we had the most amazing sunset view on the rock shelf that night. Although it didn't rain while we were on the trail, this was the first time we'd seen the sun since we left Victoria.

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The Magical Beauty Of Nitinaht And The Crab Shack Of Your Dreams

We left Cribbs Creek about 9am and stuck to mostly inland trail. Other hikers going the opposite way had warned it was very overgrown but we honestly had no problems with it; it was a little underused, but keep in mind they hadn't seen the south side yet. We made excellent time and arrived in Nitinaht Narrows at 1:09pm. The journey is absolutely stunning. There is a new bridge over the creek at Dare Beach and the forest walk is lovely. The bridge over the Cheewhat River offers great views also. You cannot take water from the river itself but after the bridge there is a freshwater stream marked by a wooden sign if you need it and soon you will come across an old Cabin. When you arrive here, turn around and see the new and amazing Ditidaht home across the river. It has changed a bit, likely with the drought, but in 2016 Jenna and I referred to this stretch as "the place that Disney films are based on". Ivy clung all the way up the trees and just as you wrapped your head around that, the trail winds it's way through a silent coniferous forest where you could almost hear a pin drop, followed by a magical wetland lake with flowering lilly pads the size of your head. But none of this compares to Nitinaht Narrows.

As you walk along the trail, just a few short minutes past the lake, the path will turn from boardwalk to dirt and as you round the bend you will suddenly walk, with no warning, right into Nitinaht! It has caught me by surprise each time. We strolled down the walkways to the dock, left our packs safely on the bench and made our way to the Crab Shack. The blue-green waters of Nitinaht Narrows is something to behold. When you peer over the side of the wharf you see schools of small fish so thick you could almost surely touch them. When I dream of paradise, I dream of here.

Nitinaht Narrows was only recently made an 'official' entry and exit point by Parks Canada in 2014, you can read more about it here. But prior to this, older community members witnessed the inception and rise of the WCT as we know it today and watched it grow. Ferrying hikers across the narrows has become a task handed down from generation to generation. Connected to the ocean, it has tides about 10 minutes apart and historically, many years ago, hikers did drown trying to swim across before getting swept out to sea, naively misjudging the calm-looking waters. About 3 kms past the narrows, the Ditidaht band offers comfort camping options to those looking to settle and day hike the trail or in need of a break from the grind. This is marked with a sign and you will see it on the trail. The crab shack itself has also recently built new cabins as well which start from roughly $100/night (houses 4 bodies and you use your own sleeping bag) and goes up to ($200 and $300) where bedding is provided. They also offer tent platforms for a modest $30/night fee.

The Nitinaht Crab Shack is owned and operated by the Edgar family. They are kind, light-hearted, hospitable and will make you the best meal you have ever had. They work extremely hard and have a great sense of humour. A family member told me the previous day they had served a group of 20 lunch all at the same time! Hippie-Doug was their ring leader that day and he manned the ferry, that took us across the narrows to complete our journey, along with a sweet old chocolate lab you will see in many a hikers' photos. If you catch him at a slow moment he might share a joke and and story with you. But don't leave until you have warmed yourself thoroughly by the wood stove, had the best meal this side of Canada and picked up some treats for the road. The ferry finishes for the day at 4:30pm and then Hippie-Doug settles in for a much deserved break, a meal, and maybe a drink, so don't be late!

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Tsu-Tsu-Tsusiat!

We left the warming comfort of the Nitinaht stove at about 3pm and headed on our way. We saw our new friend and traveling tag-along Wilson off at the Ditidaht Comfort Camping site and continued on, arriving at Tsusiat Falls by 6:30pm. You can't see the falls from the beach, but if you reach the hole in the wall at Tsusiat Point, you're just minutes away.

In 2016, the first 5 days of our hike Jenna and I had the most amazing weather. On our 5th day, after the crab shack, while the sun beamed a balmy 25+ C, we ditched our packs on a slope of sand with gentler waters between Nitinaht and Tsusiat Point and ran into the ocean up to our knees, jumping the waves and being astonished at their strength. We laid on the beach afterwards and soaked in the sun. When I think of my little sister, I often think of this carefree day and smile. Enjoy the journey as you go, or you’ll miss the best parts.

Tsusiat Falls is a popular campground. When we arrived the beach was packed. According to 2021 Parks regs, you can only stay one night here to minimize environmental impact. The beach was very different from what I remembered, but the falls were ever glorious. We threw on bathing suites and while Krista enjoyed the brief sun, I took a dip in the beckoning water.

The next morning, with Krista not feeling hot, I'd aimed to get up early and walk back to the Hole In The Wall with my Nikon DSLR camera. When we passed by the day before it was high tide and the Hole was under sea water. However, after a delay, Krista decided to come with me. We packed up, left our bags at Tsusiat and strolled back to the hole together, and a better decision it was. I’d watched a group ahead of us pass through an hour ago, but beneath their tracks you could make out a fresh set of cougar prints. Since low tide was at 10am that morning, that means the tracks were very recent and could only have been made since the water receded. Food for thought.

Darling Bears You Might Be Cute, But I Don't Want To Snuggle

The last 2 days on the WCT (or your first two, depending where you start) are the easiest to hike and where you make up the most ground. We'd intended to land at Darling River Campsite (approx km 14), which from Tsusiat (approx km 25) would make it about an 11 km day. Most of our fellow travellers whom we had become familiar with were aiming for Michigan Creek though, which would add 2 km to our 6th day, but save us that on our 7th and final day out. We decided to see what the day held and if we arrived at Darling early we might continue on. WELL.... what the day held was not entirely what we expected.

In 2016 Jenna and I walked the beach hike between Tsocowis Creek and Michigan Creek. It had started to rain the night before and by morning was a light, but steady, downpour. We donned our rain gear but by noon, and halfway through our distance, it was clear that Jenna's rain jacket was not waterproof. Though she had tested it prior to leaving, it turned out not to be up to WCT-level rain. As we continued on poor Jenna got wetter and wetter and by the time we reached Michigan, she was soaked through to the bone. Water pooled in her boots, and she shivered so hard she couldn't help me with the tent. Realizing this could get worse quickly, I popped the tent, got her changed and snugged into her sleeping bag ASAP. Then I worked on adding a tarp. When the shivering stopped we got a warm meal into her and passed our time taking turns winding up our emergency radio and trying to maintain the faint signal from a long forgotten US talk station till darkness fell. It poured the entire next day as well for a total of over 24 hours straight and our photos at the Pacheena lighthouse are in plastic emergency ponchos.

In 2021 Krista and I opted for the inland trail as we'd previously made better time this way. There is lots to see here, another Donkey Engine and a rusty old grader, and I absolutely love the Billy Goat Bridge. The trail threw us for a bit at Tsocowis Creek, there, phantom branch-offs seemed to lead off and abruptly stop. You have to go down the ladders to continue the inland trail portion (OR access the beach). However, just passed Orange Juice Creek, it was quite clear this section of trail was not well used recently... by people anyway. It was eerily dark, overgrown and passed by what looked like long lost abandoned campsites in caves along the rock wall. As we passed by we heard something stir in the dim light, knocking over an old cup, and we nervously quickened our pace. We began to see pile after pile of fresh bear scat, some so fresh that by the time we reached Darling we figured we must be just behind it. Making a lot of noise we made our way to the beach and relief washed over us as we recognized people half a km ahead... our fellow Albertans, Mat and Lauren! But when they stopped suddenly and started to back up we knew something wasn't right.

Just ahead of them on the beach was our bear. And big guy he was! They figured a lone male. They managed to scare him off and once we caught up the 4 of us made our way as a group to Michigan Creek just down the beach where we figured there was relative safety in numbers.

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Bitter Sweet Goodbyes

Our last day from Michigan to the Information Station at Pacheena was a super short one. We were the last hikers to leave Michigan at 8am and among the first ones (ironically) to reach the Parks office at 11:01am. The path is very well maintained and an easy hike. You'll also see a lot of day hikers here, many with dogs. Along the way are some cool sights you won't want to miss, so don't be too quick to rush out. The abandoned dirt bike isn't going anywhere fast anymore, but be sure to check out the sea lion rock just passed km 10. You may even hear them from the trail! Just before the sea lions you'll also pass by the Pacheena Lighthouse. Again, due to covid, you cant access the grounds but you can totally snap a quick pic! The area has so much bear activity Parks Staff joke about running 'bear daycare' here so be vigilant. Two wonderfully enthusiastic young ladies we met along the way carried an amazing tune; Im sure they must've charmed away any "would be" encounters.

In 2016 there was no km 1 sign on the trail and in 2021 there was still no km 1 sign lol. Both times I raced past km 2 and then later wished I'd taken a pic with it. You'll want it as proof! We walked the very last km along the beach, where firm sand makes for easy going. There were bear sightings of a mother and cubs here just before we arrived. We missed them, but were lucky enough to get some great foot-print photos. The very last bench you'll see on the trail is emblazoned with the word 'PARKS'. We sat here for an eternal minute and took some photos. As we strolled towards the Information station I couldn't believe it was over again so quickly.

Looking back, even after time number two, it feels more like a dream. The first time I walked off the trail in 2016 I eagerly anticipated a hot shower, was thoroughly disappointed at finding I had no quarters for to pay for one and I spent the 5 hour bus ride home starving and trying to sleep on a roller coaster. Perhaps not such a glorious end, but I realized I had achieved something few people would in their life time and of that I was SO proud of Jenna and myself. We did it.

When I arrived back at work Sharon had the most glorious little bouquet of flowers for me and she glued tiny cut out flags of all the major trail milestones to skewer sticks throughout. It brought tears to my eyes.... she told me this, "for a while, you will think to yourself, I am NEVER going back to that EVER again. And then, slowly, you will forget all the bad parts and the thought will creep in... maybe, perhaps, I might try it again... and you will find yourself looking it up once more". And she was right, I did. And I am so glad I did... I might even do it again.

#WCT #West Coast Trail #hike #hiking #nature #british columbia #travelbc #hike2021 #vancouver island

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