#day of nonstop consumption? check

[purpldawne]

man it's so weird hyperfixating after NOT doing it for so long. like i remember feeling broken bc i wasn't dedicating every second of my day to a single series and had actual normal not fandom related thoughts and now im back like. why did i want this.

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 8

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 11k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story* Teasing, flirting, nudity, bathing together, fingering, a smattering of dirty talk. Summary: This wedding night is special for more than just the happy couple. Notes: A little light smut for your Sunday! Thanks for sticking with us this long, but these two are finally starting to get to know each other. 🧡 As always, please remember that the gif choice at the top of the chapter is not meant to represent reader's physical appearance. In this case, it's for Cameron and Wiley!

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7

Not even the nonstop amount of work you’ve been doing for the wedding can stop how much you’ve been thinking about Marcus since he left early on Thursday morning, and obviously Sydney isn’t going easy on you. The merciless, good hearted, happy-for-you teasing started the second you and Marcus came downstairs together the morning after the rehearsal dinner and has kept going through the texting and when you appeared for the actual wedding looking like you had paid a great deal of extra attention to your appearance for tonight. Not even to take away from the bride of course, but enough to look special for the occasion.

It had been so hard to not go back to your apartment after leaving the office yesterday. He had wanted to. So badly. To pick up the conversation and possibly do more than that kiss on the cheek he had thought about the entire time he was on the golf course and in the office. Now, getting ready for the wedding, he pays special attention getting ready so he can look his best for you.

The greenery that has been brought into the gardens, the subtle lighting accents, the clover-shaped place cards, and even the Kelly green silk shirt and matching heels that you picked out to wear with your most flattering suit are all festive for the St Patrick’s Day wedding. Each time you have checked on Joyce and her bridesmaids they have been jittery with excitement but doing well, and the florist was an astonishing ten minutes early to drop off the flowers, so everything is moving along perfectly.

By the time guests begin to arrive, the groom, ushers, groomsmen, and father of the bride are all in place. Considering the chaos this wedding was thrown into just two weeks ago? It might be the best organized night you’ve executed by yourself in years.

He has no problem not being in the wedding party anymore, however, Marcus escorts Joyce’s mother down the aisle to her seat with pride. The accents of his tuxedo had been the same color as the bridesmaids, but he had willingly given them up for her father, deciding on a classic grey accent to contrast for the vest, pocket square, and bow tie.

The only two things that save you from crying during the ceremony — which you always, always do — are how busy you are and how damn good Marcus looks. Through the ceremony and photos you catch glimpses and share smiles, but it takes until cocktail hour before you get a chance to sneak up in his side. “You know it’s bad manners to show up being more handsome than the groom.”

“Don’t think that I did that.” Marcus immediately warms from the inside out at just hearing your voice as he turns towards you. “And you look like you stepped out of a fashion shoot.” He compliments. “Upstaging the bride.”

“I would never.” Just hearing his voice in person instead of over the phone practically makes you giddy, but you demure. “Thank you, though. I will pass the compliment along to David, who is my fashion consultant.”

“Well, the linen suit is perfect with the vivid emerald green.” He smiles as he motions towards the reception. “It’s wonderful and they are beaming.” He smiles at the now family pictures being taken with Joyce’s parents and a large bouquet. While Michael’s parents hadn’t shown, they had sent a flower arrangement so it had made the couple hopeful that they would be accepting of things down the line.

“As long as they’re happy, that’s all that matters.” So far nothing has gone wrong, and you’re keeping your fingers crossed that it stays that way. Or at least, that when something finally does, it will be either small or insignificant enough that you can fix it without the couple even realizing.

“You have a gift.” Marcus praises softly. “Which do you prefer? Running the inn or planning? I’m assuming the day to day for the inn.”

“I do prefer the day to day of the inn,” you admit, looking around the garden filled with reception guests. “But I think I’ll be broken-hearted if I don’t get to help my siblings plan their weddings. I do like it.”

“I can see that.” He reaches out and slides a hand around your body, resting on where the tattoo sits in the small of your back. “You are wonderful and you’ve created a day they will never forget.”

“I won’t take an ounce of credit.” Looking up at him, though, you do smile. Just about as broadly as you can. “I will steal a dance from you later, though.”

“I think we can manage that.” He nods, smiling just as wide as you are. “Let me know when you are free.”

“I’ll come and find you when things are under control enough for me to slip away.” Not that you think it will take long, but there is always potential for things to happen. That’s why you have the radio in your ear, after all. A discreet Walkie talkie on your belt is hidden by your suit it makes you reachable by the whole staff working tonight. It gives you the luxury of stepping away to say hi to Marcus without worrying about a major disaster breaking out.

“Let me know if I can help.” He tells you, knowing that you would never ask, but he will offer anyway. “I can carry a case of champagne or something.”

“You’re a guest.” Never in a million years would you ask him to do any work when he’s attending an event in space you control, and you shake your head. “Relax. Enjoy. Eat and drink. Dance. I’ll come and find you later, handsome.”

He rolls his eyes and grins at you. “I knew that would be your answer, but my offer will stand.”

“Noted and appreciated.” You lean into his side for a brief hug before slipping away again, shooting a teasing wink his way from halfway across the garden as you go.

The garden lights are on. White mixed with green to match the theme of the wedding party and Marcus has danced with the bride and her mother by the time you come back to his side. More than a few glasses of champagne in, and relaxed with his bow tie untied now.

“Having fun?” You may have snuck over to the deejay to ask him to play a slow song, but no one needs to know that you planned it.

“Enjoying myself, but now…” he turns and gives you a slow smirk. “It’s even better since you are here.”

“Oh yeah?” That has you beaming at him as the next song starts.

“Yeah.” He hears the slow, sweet strains of the song and lifts a brow. “Are you here long enough to dance before you flit away, hummingbird?”

“I’m all yours.” It sounds a bit more like a pledge than the playful thing it had sounded like in your head, but that’s okay. You still mean it. “For at least a song or two.”

Humming happily, he holds out his hand for you, watching you with almost tender affection. “We seem to be good at this.”

“Those lessons that our parents insisted on have paid off.” Those lessons don’t dictate how well you fit in his arms, though, or the way you feel drawn into him like a magnet.

“It’s like they knew.” He chuckles.

“We can never tell them,” you snicker, leaning into him a little more as the song goes on, and resting your head comfortably on his shoulder. “We’re still their children, after all. Can’t let them know we think they were ever right.”

“Never.” He had already received a call from his parents after the photos of the State dinner were published, only a case of mild humble bragging allowed before they changed the subject.

“You’ve never told me if you have siblings or anything.” The thought occurs to you almost belatedly, as the world is hazy around the two of you and you like it that way.

“Only child.” He chuckles. “Although I am possibly the only case of single child syndrome in my extended family.” He tells you. “I have twenty-seven first cousins.”

Your head nearly snaps back, wide eyes and a laugh of shock making your face look comically surprised. “I’m gonna need flash cards, aren’t I?”

He laughs, making several others look towards you, curious as to the amusement. “No.” He promises. “Most of the time, we all wear name tags.” He grins. “My family has six sets of identical twins in mix. They decided to make it a family traditional to tag us so no pranks were played.”

“Criminey.” Even on a low huff, you shake your head in wonder. All his poor aunts! “So an only child but plenty of playmates, then?”

“Always.” He laughs. “Always felt like I lived in a zoo when family was around.”

"You must have had hellacious games of Hide and Seek." The huff is replaced with a giggle, imagining little Marcus with all those cousins and all the chaos they must have gotten into. "It sounds amazing."

He agrees with you. “It was a competition to see how long we could last.” He tells you. “Had to stay on the property though.”

“Big family house?” You guess, figuring that his grandparents must have at least had a little bit of land. That’s the image you have in your head of Texas, anyway.

“Ended up having like a family compound.” Marcus admits with a chuckle. “For the summers together.”

"That sounds like so much fun." As the first song bleeds into a second, you don't move an inch from his arms. There's nowhere you would rather be than right here. "My parents are both only children, so I have absolutely zero first cousins. That's how we all ended up with best friends that basically got adopted into the family."

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Marcus smiles at the image of your family adopting friends over the years, collecting them.

"Don't get me wrong, it's great." It's how you have kept Sydney in your life, and her sister, and your other best friend from college. It's how Alex and David got so close so young, and how Junie and Kiley became so close. "It's just different, that's all."

“I know.” Marcus would never put down your experience. “You might be overwhelmed by my family and think we are all insane.”

"Or I might have a blast." You raise an eyebrow at him, wondering if he's really saying that he wants you to meet his family or just postulating that someday down the line it would happen. Probably the latter. "We'll find out when we're ready."

“I’m going home at the beginning of April.” He informs you, wondering if it’s too fast. “You could always come with me.”

From intrigued to bewildered at the drop of a hat, your face morphs into something soft and your head tilts in a gentle awe. "And I thought I was always the one running headlong into relationships with my heart out there on my sleeve," you murmur, realizing that Marcus must be very much the same way. "I—I would absolutely love to."

You don’t have to come of course, but he thinks you really mean that you would want to. “No pressure, of course.” He adds. “We don’t have to be press official or anything. My family is tight-knit, they wouldn’t breathe a word.”

“There is already speculation,” you admit, though you have to shrug about it so it doesn’t upset you that people are speculating about your life at all. “We…didn’t do a great job of not looking enamored with each other at the State dinner.”

“I understand that.” Marcus has read the speculation and seen the photos. Both of you are photographed looking completely taken with the other. “However, when you decided to confirm is completely up to you.” He reminds you softly. “You owe no one anything before that. Not even as the First Princess.”

“It’s more important to me that you know I want to be with you. And that we tell our families when we’re ready. The nation can wait, it won’t kill them to not get gossip right away.” You bite your lip though, leaning into his side again as you dance. “My family is probably going to be very enthusiastic tomorrow.”

“You plan on telling them tomorrow?” He asks, slightly surprised that you would be so willing to say something so quickly. It’s not that he’s been viewed as undesirable, but often the women he dated were more cautious.

“The only thing that would stop me would be if you don’t want me to.” Otherwise, sharing this new step forward in your life with your family is just one more thing to celebrate.

“You’re my soulmate.” Marcus reminds you, smiling softly at the reminder himself. “I don’t mind telling a stranger on the street, let alone people you love.”

When Juan had told you what a romantic Marcus is, you had almost taken it with a grain of salt. A friend talking up his friend to the girl who likes him. But it hasn’t taken long at all for you to see the truth of it shining in Marcus’s eyes, or widening his smile. And a man who wants love is exactly what you have always hoped for. “I’m glad we agree,” you murmur, swallowing around the first time your heart has burst with those words. You’re not going to come out with that full-scale declaration before you’ve even gone out on your first few dates. Before you’ve even kissed.

He smiles even more, his fingers pressing into your hip and lower back, pulling you closer to his own body. It’s not possessive, more protective over you and the moment that is unfurling between you. “Just let me know if I come on too strong.” He asks, knowing that it could annoy some and he doesn’t want to do that to you.

“That’s…usually the warning I have to give.” The striking similarities between the two of you aren’t lost. The way your wishes and dreams and treatment of your partners all lines up…it makes sense why they always say that your soulmate is your ideal fit. Especially in this moment, as your arms tighten around each other and the world seems to stop around you.

He chuckles softly, leaning in and pressing his lips to the edge of your hair. “You will never have to worry about that with me.” He promises.

The way your heart stops completely for a moment at the bare touch of lips to skin before starting back up at double the speed is so telling, and so overwhelming that your fingers dig into his jacket to keep him close. “You don’t have to worry either.”

The moment is perfect and it’s one of those moments that a first kiss is almost required. Like it’s the Hallmark movie it feels like. Marcus stares into your eyes and his gaze flickers down to your lips for a moment before there’s a snort beside him.

“You two look like the newlyweds.” Joyce teases, a broad grin on her face as she leans into the arms of her new husband.

Thwarted for the second time in as many days, you swallow the disappointment but have to appreciate the irony of who’s pointing it out. “That’s your job, today, I think.”

“No way we would want to upstage the happy couple.” Marcus adds, sending them a smile.

“No reason it can’t be a happy day for more than just us,” she hums, grinning again when they turn away to keep dancing.

Marcus laughs quietly as he continues to dance with you. “I think they suspect something.” He teases softly.

“Like I said,” you laugh quietly, beaming at him impossibly brighter. “We’re not very good at hiding it.”

“No, we aren’t.” He agrees, deciding that now is the perfect time to dip you like he had during the State dinner.

The same joyful shout of laughter bubbles out of you that had then, drawing some attention again but this time you revel in it. Marcus’s soothing presence is there to let you enjoy yourself without fear, so that when you wrap your arms around his neck again on the upswing — this time there is no hesitation in following your natural impulse. Your lips find his like you’re coming home again, in a kiss as sweet and bright as the rest of this moment.

He expected the kiss, had anticipated kissing you so it’s a shock to have you initiating the kiss. Eyes widening for a split second before he closes his eyes and leans you down even more. The brilliancy of having him lean into the moment is wonderful, and you suddenly don’t know if your head is swimming from being dipped or from him. Not that you care. Not that any of it matters. Because the electric spark of it is so brilliant you could sing.

Marcus has kissed women, lots of them. Some of them women he had loved, but nothing compares to this kiss. He had always heard that soulmate intimacy is beyond description and that is exactly what this is, indescribable.

The buzzing seems to start at the top of your head and go all the way down to your toes, making you hum against his lips when you finally have to pull away. Can’t be making out in the dance floor. That will definitely be noticed. Marcus slowly pulls you upright, his lips tingling and his heart feeling like it is soaring through the clouds.

“I wanted to do that so badly at the State dinner,” you whisper, beaming at him and glowing in the moment. He knows that. You told him already. But you’re too lightheaded to care about repeating yourself.

“I did too.” Marcus confesses just as softly. It’s impossibly amazing to have someone that feels the same way and he absorbs it like it’s oxygen to breathe.

There’s a giggle in your throat, but it’s small and feels like a hiccup, making you grin even more. “But that was better than I imagined.”

“Same.” He looks around the dance floor, aware that you weren’t at a soulmate wedding before he leans in to whisper in your ear. “I had never thought touching my soulmate would be so exciting and soothing all at the same time.”

“No exciting touches while I’m working,” you chide, knowing it isn’t what he meant but unable to resist teasing him.

He snorts quietly and arches a brow mischievously. “And if I do?”

He is a tease, and he said as much to you with pride, so you just quirk a smile up in the corner of your mouth and stroke one thumb along the line of his neck. “Then you’re not staying on the couch this time.”

“Am I staying?” He asks softly, not wanting to presume anything and he grins at your huff.

“Only if you want to.” You have no intention of pressuring him, but if he wants to spend the night you will welcome him with open arms.

“I don’t think that’s a question in my mind.” He chuckles. “I just don’t want you to think that I only want to take you to bed.”

“If I thought that, you wouldn’t be invited.” Enough years of second guessing and wondering have made an impact on you that way, and you certainly aren’t going to entertain any kind of advances from someone who isn’t interested in you for the right reasons. Not anymore.

“That’s good.” He admires your spirit and self-assurance. They are traits that he always likes in a woman and he’s happy to find that his soulmate is aligned the same way. Reaching up, he smirks slightly as he touches an earring. “So what time do you get off work, beautiful?”

"As soon as the reception's over." Subtly turning your wrist on his shoulder, you check the time and press a kiss to his cheek when your heart flutters at the end of the song that had been playing. "Just a couple more hours, handsome. I hope you're one of those G-men who keeps a change of clothes in their car."

“I do.” He nods, butterflies swirling in his stomach like he’s untried all over again, even though his virginity is long past gone. “The other night was an odd thing because of just coming back.”

"I'll let my temporary roommate know you're coming up." That's not exactly the kind of thing you can spring on Agent Bailey, even if she is at the end of her shift. Her shift relief will need to know there's someone spending the night so they don't hear noises and burst into your room.

“If it’s not convenient, we can always plan something out.” Marcus immediately assures you. He knows that it has to be a little stifling at times with the agent there and he doesn’t want you to stress if there’s some reason he can’t stay.

"I just don't want an agent interrupting us," you assure him quickly. "That's all. I want you to stay."

Marcus grins. “Afraid of a shift change and the agent thinking you’re being attacked?” He jokes.

"Stranger things have happened." Unfortunately, the ear piece you're wearing to stay connected to your team crackles to life with the voices of servers get ready for the cake cutting. "That's my cue," you hum, tapping your earpiece with a slight frown. "Save me one more dance later, okay?"

“Absolutely.” Marcus lets go of you reluctantly, although he knows you are still working to make the night magical for his friends.

The wedding is as close to perfect as any event that you've organized in possibly your entire career. By the time the last guests are trickling out of the garden and the wait staff is bringing in the last trays of glasses to be washed, your work is fairly well done for the night. The overnight manager can oversee the rest of the cleanup, and you've already sent Sydney home to her comfy bed after freaking out with her over the fact that Marcus has agreed to stay over tonight. Joyce and Michael left straight for the airport to be off on their honeymoon after many, many hugs. Agent Bailey looks positively relaxed compared to some other events you've held at the inn, but you can tell she's ready for a cup of coffee and a crossword to wind down with before her relief arrives.

"Hey." You find Marcus on the porch when you step back outside, and your face splits on a big, beautiful smile.

“Hey.” Marcus turns to find you watching him, your jacket discarded somewhere and you look softer, a little worn. “I have to just give you a round of applause.” He hums, clapping silently. “You made this look so easy, even though there are a million balls up in the air at one time.”

"I'm exhausted," you admit without shame. After two weeks of basically working nonstop, you would feel like you're about to drop except that you have the promise of the rest of the night ahead of you. "Thank god I took the whole weekend off. We can sleep in tomorrow."

Marcus frowns, not liking that you’ve overworked yourself and he is immediately pulling you close and rubbing your back. “Why don’t we go upstairs and you let me take care of you?”

“Because that will require an entire reprogramming of my personality?” The attempt at a joke just makes him raise his eyebrows at you and deepens his frown, and you know instinctively you’re going to give in to him. You may not be good at letting other people be in charge of you ever, but the warm and fuzzy feelings you get from being the sole focus of Marcus’s attention outweighs it. “Okayyyyyy.”

At the almost petulant tone, Marcus smirks slightly. “Good.” He nods and pulls you closer. “You deserve to let someone do for you.” He whispers softly. “You’ve done so much for my friends tonight. Let me return the favor.”

There isn’t any use protesting, and you like the gentle security of his arms too much to leave them right now, so the two of you make your way to the elevator wrapped around each other as though there is nowhere else you could possibly be. “Did you have fun tonight?” Aside from Joyce and Michael — who had thanked you profusely before leaving for the night — his opinion of things is the only one you care about.

“Probably the best wedding I’ve ever been to.” Marcus isn’t just saying that. The staff milled around, wearing happy expressions that weren’t painted on, even when they were busy. The entire event flowed smoothly and the atmosphere was one of celebrated joy. A lot of that comes straight from the top, how you treat your staff and the environment you’ve created. “I’ll say it again, you are amazing.”

“You may have noticed by now that I’m not very good at taking compliments.” You up at him, though, warm cheeks and broad smile making you look bashful. “But…thank you.”

“Well, I plan on giving them to you often.” He admits, admiring your beautiful face. He’s always believed in giving compliments, but he never says something he doesn’t mean.

“Then I will try to be better.” Having only kissed him once so far, the tantalizing closeness of where he hangs his head as you step into the elevator together beckons you, but you resist if only out of manners. Agent Bailey doesn’t need to be made to feel awkward in such a small space.

He can tell that you want to kiss him, but he can also see how incredibly worn out you are. Marcus shifts slightly, moving behind you so he can let you lean against him. The small, nondescript duffel bag in his hand brushes your leg, and you smile gently at the idea of waking up beside him tomorrow morning. As tantalizing as taking him to bed is, it’s the soft, domestic dream of waking up to see his sleep-mussed face that has you weak in the knees. When the elevator stops upstairs, you pause to let Agent Bailey work and then go in when she gives you the signal.

“Are the threats bad enough she needs to check the apartment every time?” He asks softly, frowning at the idea that you would be in so much danger.

“Mom is slightly overprotective,” you explain, dropping your jacket on the coat rack by the door when you come in. “I give it another month of all-clears before she stops insisting the apartment be checked every single time.”

“She loves you.” It’s not hard to see why but he also doesn’t want to minimize its effect on you.

“Oh, I know.” Turning around again, you reach for him even though he isn’t far away. “And I love her. Which is why I’ve never fussed at her for anything reasonable she’s ever asked of me. Including letting my agent check my apartment before I go inside. If it eases her anxiety to know I’m safe, that’s fine. She’s got plenty else to deal with right now.”

“It’s probably because you live alone.” He murmurs, sliding his arms around you. “When I first moved away, my Mom called every night to make sure I locked my door. And I was not nearly as pretty as you are.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” His chin weighs on your shoulder and you cover his arms with your own, wrapping them around your own waist. “You’re much prettier than me. But you’re right that it’s about me living alone. When I lived with Syd she never worried out loud. But she also wasn’t president then.”

“Maybe we will have to get you a roommate.” Marcus isn’t pushing for anything, only teasing out loud. “And a really protective dog.”

“If you want a review of how I am to live with, Syd will tell you everything, I’m sure.” Though neither of you believes in pushing the other, it’s obvious that a fully functioning and committed relationship is on both of your minds. “And you know I’m dying to have a dog, we talked about that. I just can’t do it here. There’s nowhere near enough space.”

“There is if you build a cottage behind the inn.” Marcus suggests. “Gives you space for the family and keeps you close enough to your work to still pop in whenever you need.”

For a second you just stand stock still, shocked at the idea, before you slowly turn in his arms and look up into that sharply angled face with the gentlest eyes in the whole world. “I had never thought of that,” you admit, astonished now at your own lack of imagination.

“Maybe now you will.” He smiles, happy to have offered a suggestion that might be of use to you. “It’s a perfect compromise, and then you could turn your apartment into another suite for guests.”

“It’s a perfect compromise as long as it’s something my partner also likes the sound of.” Thinking of him as a partner — a long term one, the long-term partner of your life — sends that tingle out to all your extremities all over again and you find yourself smiling even brighter. “I guess we’ll have to think about what kind of cottage we would want, if that’s something we decide to do together.”

“Stone.” Marcus immediately says. “Designed to fit in. Perhaps an old carriage house design.”

The way he offers such unfettered support softens you, and you reach up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Have you thought about it before, or are you just brilliant with improvising ideas?”

“Haven’t thought about it before but I hate when I see a historic building and some addition that’s completely modern or doesn’t match the style.” He admits with a sheepish grin.

“Then I’ll just call you brilliant and you’ll have to live with being positively adored.” He blushes at that declaration, and you end up smiling all over again. “And it’s very Sabrina of you to think of living in a carriage house. Which makes it thematic, of course, and now we have to.”

“Now we have to, huh?” He chuckles quietly and leans in to press a kiss to your hair. “Then I guess we better start designing a carriage house worth of the First Princess.”

“I don’t care.” Even though you’re shaking your head, you’re transfixed, looking up into his eyes. It’s too soon for these things you’re feeling — too quick and too untried — but they’re so honest that they catch in your throat and bubble over. “As long as you’re there, too, I don’t care about anything else.”

It’s a loaded comment and it’s one that would have him searching your eyes to see if you are being truthful but he doesn’t have to. He feels that you are. “We will decide when the time comes.” He promises. “Where we live.”

“I’m just grateful you don’t think I’m crazy,” you admit softly. “For feeling so certain already.”

He snorts and pulls you close. “When I realized that you knew we had to be soulmates, there was another reaction that I needed space from you because of.” He admits. “Do you know what that was?”

“Not a clue.” Whatever it was, he’s here with you now, so you aren’t afraid of it. “Tell me.”

“So I didn’t beg you to run away with me and get married.” He flushes slightly and bites his lip.

“Oh god…” The breath of disbelief that leaves you is as disbelieving as it is giddy. “I would’ve said yes and we would’ve been doing text message breakups from the car on our way to the nearest soulmate chapel.”

“And we are better than that.” Marcus agrees, “so it was a good thing that I left for London.”

“Long distance so that we were forced to not be impulsive.” In a very real way, he’s right. You would both have jumped headfirst into this and being on separate continents forced you to calm down. You do smirk, though, and hold him a little closer. “It didn’t stop us from bathing together, though.”

Your smirk is tantalizingly wicked and innocent, making him return it. “I was trying very hard to be good while we were on the phone together. To not think about you naked.”

"I admit," you aren't embarrassed or shy about it, though. "I was decidedly less well behaved..."

“Oh yeah?” He arches a brow curiously. “What— were you touching yourself while we were talking?”

"After." It's not something you expected to admit tonight, but you have no intention of keeping the truth from Marcus at all. "I...wasn't confident I could keep quiet if I actually did it during one of our conversations."

“So you are vocal.” He hums softly, starting to get an idea of what might be a perfect ending to the night for you.

"Maybe a little." It's definitely something you have to control to be considerate of the other person in your apartment at all times.

“That’s good.” He’s aware that Agent Bailey has disappeared around the corner, trying to give you the illusion of privacy. “I like vocal.”

Instantly, your eyes snap up to his. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He hums, pressing a little closer to you with a weighted smile. “Why don’t we run a bath? Soaking sounds like a good idea for you, doesn’t it?”

“Thank god my tub is big enough for two people,” you huff, immediately grabbing his hand and heading straight for your bathroom.

He hadn’t actually meant for him to soak, but it’s obvious that’s what you want. Allowing you to guide him into your bathroom, he looks around the room. He hadn’t really paid attention to the tub when he had spent the night or when he was here for the game night, so it was a charming surprise to see that the tub is big enough for two.

"Are you a bubbles or salts guy?" You have a whole shelf dedicated to bath things that you've actually started working through thanks to the frequent phone calls you shared while he was away. Before that, you barely made time to touch them.

“Either one.” He shrugs slightly. “Depends on the mood, but I’m thinking bubbles tonight. What about you?”

"Sweet Surrender or Heart of the Ocean?" The two yet-untouched bottles on the shelf have abstract names but smelled amazing in the store when you bought them, so you give him the choice. Either way, the light and airy scented candles in the room will add ambiance more than anything else.

“Sweet Surrender.” He likes the sound of it and shrugs off his tuxedo jacket to drape over the counter.

“Honey, almonds, and pomegranate,” you read from the bottle as you turn to plug up the tub and start the bath. These first moments of intimacy are so delicate, and even though you have both verbally confirmed your shared marks — this will be the first time you see them on each other.

“That sounds like the perfect scent to relax in.” He doesn’t glance up at you, slowly starting to undress in case you change your mind.

“Hey.” As soft as your voice is, your hand reaches out to touch his arm. He isn’t looking at you and you just want to be sure that he doesn’t feel pressured. “If you want to wait, we can wait as long as you need.”

“No.” He laughs at the irony of you voice his own thoughts. “But I also know you are tired. Why don’t we soak without any expectations?”

“No expectations is good.” You nod, appreciating the way he already looks like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “There are a lot of different kinds of intimacy.”

“My idea was to get you into a bath, maybe make you feel good, and wrap you up in my arms to sleep.” Marcus voices softly.

“Is that what you want to do?” He’s only undone two buttons on his shirt, and you rest one hand lightly on his chest to ground yourself in him and give him your full attention. You said it earlier in the night — you are both just out of relationships. If he wants to take things between you physically slow even if they are moving at emotional light speed, you’ll honor that and make sure he feels comfortable and safe.

“The romantic in me wants to wait for your birthday tomorrow night.” He admits, huffing at himself. “For sex. Not for making you cum.”

“Honey.” Your hand goes to your mouth instantly, stifling a witheringly heartfelt sigh, and you step into him immediately with a sort of lopsided smile settling into your features that tells him exactly how sweet you find that idea. “That is…quite possibly the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. And I adore you for wanting to make it special.”

“You don’t think it’s silly?” He’s been told he tries too hard or overthinks in relationships a lot and it’s something he’s worked on.

“No.” Shaking your head just once, you run your thumb over one of the buttons of his shirt and nearly sigh again. “I think it’s romantic. And it tells me you’re a thoughtful partner.”

“What do you want?” That is equally as important in this scenario as his own wistful flights of romantic fancy.

“I want to wake up with you tomorrow.” It might sound odd or even a little creepy to anyone else, but you’re confident that Marcus will understand. It’s not possessive or obsessive, it’s domestic and romantic in its own right. “Find out what you look like sleep mussed and bathed in sunlight all tangled in my sheets. Anything else that happens is a bonus.”

“Then let me take care of you tonight?” He asks softly, leaning in and kissing your forehead. “I can wait, and I want to make your weekend special.”

It’s impossibly romantic and probably the first time in your entire life that the man you’re romantically involved with isn’t clamoring to fuck you as quickly as humanly possible. Instead of making you feel less desirable, like it might have at earlier points in your life, it makes you feel special. Cared for. Like the fact that you have his focus means more than anything else ever could. “Okay,” you murmur, nodding once before you turn to shut off the hot water filling your bathtub. “If you prefer, there’s a little stool next to the sink. “You don’t have to get in with me unless you want to.”

“I don’t mind getting into the bath with you.” The idea of pressing his body against yours is incredibly erotic and sensual. “You can lean against me.”

“Okay.” Even as simple as a word is, the acknowledgement is important. Right now it’s just as important as the mounting hum of tension between you, and His your fingers prickly with the desire to continue undressing him. How you’re dying to press your bare skin to his, even if it doesn’t come with sex just yet.

He wonders if you are disappointed, if you are wanting him to just jump you and take you to bed. He wants to, but he wants to celebrate what is between you more.

"There's only..." Your hands go to your own buttons. Undressing yourself is not pressuring him, but just offering. Offering to deepen this connection and share this part of yourself. "Only one thing I want to ask...that's all. If it's okay with you?"

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” He’s willing to whatever you want to make you happy. “What do you need to ask of me?”

It seems silly, all things considered, but when you bite your lip it feels like asking permission to smile. "I just want to see the marks we share. On both of us."

Marcus chuckles and nods, finishing the buttons on his shirt and he slips it off his shoulders. “The most obvious one first, I think.”

"I hope you don't hate it." His shirt lands on the stool you had offered him, and yours follows it.

“I don’t.” He promises, smiling at you. “Your explanation makes complete sense, now that I know that it’s you.” He tells you. “A Hummingbird for my little hummingbird.”

"And you know why I was never on Mate Marks now." It was something he had pointed out at the State dinner and you had felt awfully about the way he took it. Thinking that you never wanted to be found, when in fact it's the opposite that is true. It's just that it was considered unsafe for you. Now, though? Now that you have him right in front of you? You can turn around and show him your back and let him see the hummingbird for himself.

Your bra is still on, but he doesn’t mind that, watching as you slowly turn to let him see the tattoo on your lower back. The hummingbird that has marked his own skin, the exact same one. “Does it look different on someone else?” You ask, suddenly afraid to see his reaction.

Reaching out, his fingers brush over the skin, feeling the slight rise in it where the ink has been pushed underneath. His own is flat, not raised and it’s a wonderful little contrast between your tattoo and its counterpart on his own body. “It looks beautiful.” He murmurs softly.

"If I had been older than eighteen, I might have had it put somewhere else," you admit with a wry laugh. "But I don't care as long as it helped us find each other."

“It’s discreet.” He snorts, still tracing it. “If you want it to be.”

"I tend to tuck my shirts into my pants these days." His fingers are burning hot but not in an unpleasant way. More like the tension and promise of them is scorching your skin with eagerness. "Or just wear a longer top layer. No bikinis, ya know?"

“That’s why there aren’t pictures of it out there.” He huffs slightly, amused that if you had been photographed it would have been splashed in some kind expose or something.

"It doesn't matter anymore." Before, discretion had been something that was agreed upon. You didn't want someone claiming to be your soulmate falsely and your parents considered it a safety concern. But now that you have Marcus? Any claim would be an obvious lie and easily taken care of. "You're what matters."

Marcus turns so you can see the tattoo on his skin, verifying the same design to you. “You matter too, sweetheart.”

You never thought it would be such an emotional moment, but it’s only in the last few days that you realize how silly that assumption was. Of course this is emotional. This connection goes far, far beyond any that you’ve made otherwise. It is, just like the ink marking both of your bodies, under your skin. The tears are more than you were expecting, and you wipe one away on your thumb after a pause. “Holy shit,” you laugh after a second. “It’s real…”

He lights up at the giddy excitement in your voice. The yearning has him turning around and wiping away another with his own thumb as he caresses your cheek. “It’s real, sweetheart. We’re real.”

When he turns to you fully you can see the scar from your childhood surgery on his torso, the line of healed flesh where the doctor cut into you as clear as day on his otherwise smooth skin. “I’m sorry,” you murmur quietly, tracing it with your fingers. “We were so young to have to carry this and know what it means…that we were always connected…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Marcus shakes his head, frowning at your apology. “I was worried about you.” He admits softly. “If I had known you, I would have been visiting you in the hospital.”

"I told you." A thin smile brightens your face, reminding him of what you said at the State dinner. "Appendicitis sucks."

“I will take your word for it.” He chuckles quietly and his fingers brush your scar. “Were you scared when it happened?”

"Terrified." You nod slightly, eyes transfixed on his fingers touching your skin. "I was six and I had never, ever felt that kind of pain before."

“Poor thing.” Kneeling down, he leans in and presses his lips to the scar.

You swallow hard as he reaches for the button on your pants, skin singing at every little bit of contact. It’s only a second before he pulls the zipper open that you frankly try to remember what panties you put on for today, but it doesn’t matter. Every stitch of clothing will be gone soon, and you’re okay with that. Losing the last barriers between the two of you is exactly what you want for this weekend.

He continues to kiss along the length of the scar, watching you looking down at him as he slowly opens your trousers. Finding it incredibly sexy that you are already breathless.

“Just had a mini panic,” you admit, raking your fingers through his short hair. “Can’t remember if I put on presentable panties today or not.”

He can’t help but laugh at the very normal fear. “I don’t care about what kind of panties you wear.” He promises with grin. “But I did wear my good boxer briefs.” He jokes. “Keep it all contained properly.”

“Can’t have you letting it all hang out.” When you laugh along with him, it comes out like a snort. “Very undignified.”

“Very.” He joins you in the laughing, his fingers running along the edge of your panties. “No erections allowed in wedding photos.”

“Fully permitted later in the night, though.” He’s still on his knees in front of you, and despite being nervous you reach behind yourself to unhook your bra. “In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s encouraged.”

“Well, of course it is now.” He huffs playfully, hooking his fingers into the band of your panties. The last scraps of fabric fall away, leaving you naked in front of him, and you shiver slightly without knowing if it’s the chilly bathroom or nerves that are doing it. Marcus debates, seriously debates, if he should just lean forward and bury his face into the pretty, neat little patch of hair. To use his tongue on you. When you shiver, he knows he needs to get you into the bath, so he stands quickly and unbuckles his belt.

You aren’t a virgin. You never claimed to be. At one-day-under-30, you’ve had your fair share of sexual and romantic partners, and not everyone in those two categories overlapped. Still, when Marcus pushes his boxer briefs and trousers away in one go, you inhale sharply at the first glimpse of his half-hard cock. If you hadn’t promised to let him take care of you, you might be reaching forward or dropping to your own knees — but you did. You promised. And you can barely hold back a smothered groan of regret at that fact because he’s stunning.

If it weren’t for the lusty, glazed look on your face, he might have thought something was wrong. As it is, his half hard cock twitches and hardens even more as he guides you towards the tub. “Get in, sweetheart.” He urges. “I’ll get us some towels.”

“The cupboard behind you.” They’re big, fluffy, soft things that you count as an indulgence, but they won’t be anywhere near as comfortable as having him in this bath with you. Still, you step into the hot, sudsy water without him, knowing he’ll follow in a minute.

Marcus grabs the towels and sets them close before striding back over to the tub. He’s not some Greek god, but he’s in good enough shape that there’s no reason to slump or hide as he walks towards you naked.

“Fuck.” Just one word groaned softly, but your eyes stay on him with every step. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Are you stealing my lines?” He teases, flashing you a grin as you sit in the sudsy water. “Because the only gorgeous thing I see is you.”

“We can both be gorgeous to each other,” you point out, still transfixed by him.

He had never really thought of it that way and shrugs slightly. “If you say so.” He bites his lip and watches you lean forward to give him room behind you.

The water is just a tiny bit high with both of you settled into the tub, but you don’t care. It’s not in danger of flooding the floors so you’ll just revel in being warm and comfortable with your soulmate for as long as the hot water holds out. You lean back against him, making him sigh softly in your ear and his arms come around you.

“Is this okay, hummingbird?” He murmurs quietly. “Can I touch you?”

“You know you can call me Birdie.” Settling back against him, you guide his hand around you and under the water to let him start exploring. “Hummingbird is my Secret Service call sign. Don’t wanna start accidentally moaning as a Pavlovian response whenever Agent Bailey says it.”

He chuckles quietly, a warm sound in your ear as he splays his hand over your stomach. “If you want me to.” He slowly starts to stroke your skin. “Hummingbird sounds a little more intimate, I thought.”

“Whatever you want, gorgeous.” The way he laughs and the way he touches you? You’d probably agree to anything right about now.

“Is that how I get my way?” He asks teasingly. “Get in a hot bath with you and I get what I want?” His hands, both of them, slide up to fill his hands with your tits and squeezes gently, enjoying the way your nipples harden against his palm.

“Apparently.” Sighing lets your body loosen even more in his arms and you rest heavily against his torso but your back arches to press your chest into his hands. “And ya know what? I’m okay with it.”

He laughs again, squeezes and then massaging the flesh before his thumbs brush over your nipples. “That’s right?” He asks. “You enjoying this? Feeling relaxed already?” Flicking your nipples again lightly before he cups your tits again.

“Mmmmm, it’s perfect,” you hum, letting your eyes slip shut to just enjoy the sensations.

“Good.” He’s slow to explore, letting the moment expand naturally and taking his time as he listens to your soft moans. Wanting to learn what makes you hum and purr like a kitten in his hands.

“Are you going to make a Goldilocks joke if I point out what big hands you have?” You ask, humming again when his large hand spans what feels like your entire thigh.

“The better to feel you with, my dear.” He growls into your ear playfully, squeezing your thigh slightly and massaging it gently.

The giggle you let out is low and deep, but cut off sharply by a gasp when his fingers ghost over your core. He hums, more of a raspy growl as he slides his fingers through the wet curls and into your folds. Groaning at the slickness that has nothing to do with the bath you are in.

“Fuck.” One syllable, repeated as many times as you want to tonight, and you drop your head back on his shoulder with a moan. “Feels so good and you’ve barely touched me.”

“That’s it, beautiful.” He coos softly. “Just relax, I’m gonna take care of you.” The water ripples as he slowly starts to caress your folds, rubbing and stroking the velvety skin as he listens to you moan again.

Pliant is an understatement as Marcus starts to explore, gauging your reactions and keeping his other hand busy with your tits now that he’s figured out how much you love having them played with. The itch in the back of your mind that you’re neglecting him is very real, but this is what he wants tonight and what he’s ready to share with you, so you’ll just make tomorrow twice as good for both of you when you can share the sensations.

He keeps the motion of his fingers slow, sensual as they dance over your sensitive clit. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

“So good—” So good that your breath is coming short, shallow pants already and only occasionally punctuated by longer and deeper ones. It’s like he can read you as easily as a book. “So fucking good.”

He hums softly, keeping the pace up and his cock is throbbing against your lower back now that he is fully hard. He ignores it and squeezes your breast again before teasing the nipple. “That’s good, baby girl.”

Your hips tilt, searching for more pressure and trying to show him where to focus his attention, but Marcus is exploring. He’s learning. And as much as you love it, it’s making you twist and pant and rub against him in ways you’re sure are not helping the hard on pressed between you.

“Ohhhh my soulmate gets eager, hmmm?” He coos, chuckling at the way you are grinding against him. “What do you need sweetheart?”

"More." You aren't above begging and he's already professed to being a tease so you just bask in it when his husky voice is right by your ear. He doesn't mind that you're eager and you don't mind that he's a tease, which means there's going to be a whole lot of fun ahead of the two of you. "Please, baby? More?"

“I’ve got you.” He knows there is a fine balance between being a tease and tormenting someone. He turns his hand, his thumb pressing against your aching clit so he can push two fingers deep inside you. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

"Oh fuck." The whine that comes out of you is something unrestrained and probably louder than you meant it to be, but it hardly matters when he's stretching you out on two thick fingers. Your hands scramble for purchase, one clutching his arm against you and the other holding on to the side of the tub as he begins to finger fuck you slowly but determinedly.

“Gotta stretch you out.” He croons in your ear, his breath washing over your skin. “Get your tight little pussy ready for me tomorrow.” He curls his fingers up and continues the slow circles on your clit.

"Knew those fingers would feel amazing inside me." And after thinking about it for about two weeks solid, you're thrilled to find out exactly how right you were.

“Been thinking about that a lot?” He asks, deciding your ear lobe needs to be nibbled on.

"So fucking much." Every time his fingers dive back inside your cunt you give another wanton moan. "Almost as much as I've been thinking about your cock."

“Now that you’ve seen it, what do you think?” He’s curious because he knows you wouldn’t lie to him, he knows enough women have enjoyed him to not be too self-conscious, but you are his soulmate. Hopefully you will be pleased with the body the universe chose for you to share.

“I think I my imagination didn’t do you justice.” If it weren’t for his fingers moving inside you, you’d be riding that cock, but you can’t find it in yourself to be disappointed when he’s so fucking good with his hands. Instead you twist around, chest having as you claim a demanding kiss.

He groans into your mouth, cock twitching against your back as your tongue slides into his mouth. You taking control of kiss is incredibly sexy to him, and he pumps his fingers into you faster.

If you were flexible enough to reach in between your bodies and wrap your hand around his hard on, you would have done it ages ago. The angle you’ve twisted into to kiss him almost makes it work, but still not quite. It leaves you whining into the kiss as your legs quake, feeling yourself move closer and closer to that peak that he has aimed you toward.

It’s not as slow as Marcus had wanted. Expecting to coax you into a languid, drawn-out orgasm that leaves you boneless, you are insistent. Not that he could deny you, the entire point is to take care of you how you need it. Kissing you back with just as much fervor as you give him as he pushes you towards that pleasurable cliff.

It probably would have been more like the slow, sensual climb he had intended if you weren’t so hungry for him. So addicted to the way he tastes after barely the smallest sample that you just want to drown in him. It’s passion, and the kind of attraction that makes you feel like you’ll go crazy if you can’t have him burrowing under your skin. In the moment your hazy, pleasure-centric mind is wrapped solely around how he helps and tastes better than perfection, and how you never want it to end.

The kiss tangles deeper, winding through to his soul and squeezing it tights. Grunting into your mouth gently as he feels like he is home.

The whine in your throat gets tighter as you near that peak, glorious tension in the pit of your stomach flooding every other sense you have as you start to cum, except the unerring surety that this is exactly where you’re supposed to be. Right here. With your soulmate. Home.

The way you fall apart for him is breathtaking. Marcus moans in tune to your own cries, eyes closed as your walls tighten around his fingers and pulse with a throbbing tempo of pleasure. The water sloshing around you both as you shake for him.

The words stick in your throat, and whether it’s the soulmate connection or the post-orgasm bliss, or what, they hang there as you relax backward against him in a slump. Is it really that easy? Or has it been building since we met? You aren’t sure, but it’s there. Regardless of how or why.

He feels the second you soften, body relaxing against him and his fingers slow down. Drawing out the pleasure but not forcing any kind of overstimulation. Winding down until they are still inside you as he kisses you softly before pulling back to smile at your glowing face.

“You have very good ideas.” A soft laugh tumbles out of you as you work to suppress the instinct to declare yourself to him. This isn’t the right time. Or, at least, you’re afraid that it’s too soon despite the dreams you’ve already shared with him.

“Good.” He hums softly, kissing you again. “Relaxed, sweetheart?”

“Amazingly.” You can still feel him rock hard at your back, though, and your eyes search his. “Are you sure you don’t want a hand? Or any other part of me?”

He snickers the innuendo and leans in to kiss you again. “You don’t know how badly I want you.” He murmurs softly. “But your eyes are exhausted.”

“I hate that you’re right.” Wanting him so badly that it physically hurts doesn’t make you less tired, but it does make you more determined than ever to make sure tomorrow is incredible.

He chuckles softly and kisses your forehead. "You now know how I felt a couple of days ago." He reminds you softly. "It doesn't matter how long it takes, love." He promises. "We will get there and it will be amazing."

“Tomorrow.” The tone of your voice is absolutely certainty, it the yawn immediately after does put a pin in the point. “We will get there tomorrow.”

"Tomorrow." He agrees and shifts you forward slightly as he pulls his hand away from your core. "For now, we need to get some rest so you can party tomorrow without falling asleep."

“What do you want to do tomorrow before the party?” Standing on wobbly legs in the bath takes a second, but when you wipe all the suds away and step out you’re steady enough.

"You have the day off." He hums, getting out beside you and wrapping a towel around you. "We could start off with brunch if you wanted to. Or whatever you want to do? Go to the famer's markets around here?"

“I switched my day off this week to make sure the wedding would go smoothly,” you explain. He’s large and warm and strong, and the feeling of safety doesn’t elude you. “So we have the whole weekend together if we want it.”

"I want it." He immediately tells you, frowning slightly as he towels you off carefully. Ignoring the water dripping off his own body so he can attend to you. "If you do, of course."

“Of course I do.” Grabbing the second towel off the stool, you start to dry him in turn. “Just…didn’t want to be clingy. That’s been a point against me in the past.”

"You don't have to worry about me being upset." Marcus assures you. "I have that same problem sometimes too."

“Jump in head first and get too clingy and it overwhelms them?” To find out he’s the same way is an odd sort of relief and solidarity, if you’re honest with yourself.

Marcus snorts and gives you an embarrassed wince. "I did propose in the hallway at work?" he offers. "Not some of my best romantic work, and after reflecting on it, I was feeling like the relationship was slipping away and I was desperate to save it."

“This was Teresa?” He had told you a bit about his exes — just little tidbits — during your phone calls and you hum when he nods. “No offense, honey? But it doesn’t really sound like she had her shit together in that relationship. That was not your fault.”

"No, but I held on even harder when I should have just let go." He admits, sighing softly. "Too quick to jump in, to give my heart, to plan for the future."

“You’d think I would have learned my lesson when I got cheated on.” You shake your head, drawing your towel around yourself and shrugging. “Oops.”

"I can't fucking believe someone would be dumb enough to cheat on you." He snorts, rolling his eyes at the idiocy of his sex.

“The only good part of the whole thing is that I managed to cut his cheek when I threw the ring at him,” you huff, shaking your head again as the two of you move into your bedroom together. The age-old cliche of finding your partner in bed with someone else had been your horrible reality just a few years ago. “Asshole. I hope he has a scar.”

"Me too." He huffs, "but you don't need to worry about that with me." He knows it's sounding like a complete line, but it's the truth. "I would never – I went to break up with Vanessa because just knowing you were my soulmate, I couldn't give her what she deserved."

“I…I felt like I needed confirmation,” you admit. After giving it a few seconds of thought you simply discard your towel in the laundry basket and climb into bed naked, pulling back the sheets to invite him to join you bare. “Just knowing we both had tattoos in the same place wasn’t enough. It could have been totally different designs, and then I would have been the idiot who jumped to conclusions and ruined both of our relationships for some unfounded crush. And then…at the State dinner…finding out you have my scar, too? I knew that was it. Everything I already felt for you in that moment was more than I had ever felt about anyone else.”

"I understand now." He had been hurt, deeply hurt, but he won't tell you that now. He doesn't want you upset about that, when you needed to take time for yourself to accept the possibility.

“I’m sorry if I…if I did things wrong.” Waiting for him to get in bed makes you a little self conscious but you swallow the idea that you might deserve it. “I don’t really know how to walk up to a person and tell them that the universe thinks they’re my perfect match.”

"Don’t' worry about that," Marcus slides into the bed beside and you and gathers you into his arms. Wanting to fold you against him and hold you close. "All that matters is that we know now."

“I love you.” You might have held it back before, but when you exhale this time the words come out all on their own. “I know that’s a lot, and don’t feel like you have to say it back until you’re ready. But I — I’m very grateful it’s you.”

He stares at you for a moment and then starts to laugh. Leaning in and nudging his nose against yours. "Sweetheart, I love you too." He promises softly through the chuckles. "I think I fell in love with you over board games that first night." He admits. " I just didn't let myself believe it."

Exhaling deeply, you burrow into his side and bury your face, just letting the right release of relieved laughter roll through you. Watery eyes and sniffles are nothing now. Not compared to the elated smile on your face. “You looked like a dream when you came into the inn that day. Like you’d stepped right out of my fantasies.”

"I wanted to ask you out." He confesses. "Until I learned you were seeing Sam."

“It’s all okay now.” It’s perfect now, as far as you’re concerned, and you press your lips to his with a smile curved up at the corners. “We’re where we’re supposed to be.”

"In bed, where you are fighting sleep so you can talk to me?" He teases gently, smiling back into your lips.

“Yes,” you huff at him as adorably as you can.

He laughs again, settling back into the pillows and pulling you with him, humming when you settle down onto his chest like you belong there. "Go to sleep, hummingbird." He urges quietly. "I'll be here when you wake up. I'm not going anywhere."

______

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[selfhelpforstudents]

i always see people around me being more productive and starting revision earlier and doing everything much faster. i’m already trying my best, but i start panicking when i see them be better, and feel like i’m lagging behind. how do i snap out of this mentality?

How to Stop Panicking About Productivity:

We’ve all been there. You’re grinding away at your own pace, and then you glance around and see everyone else seemingly miles ahead. They’re breezing through tasks, acing their exams, and looking like they’ve got it all figured out. Meanwhile, you’re fighting off panic, convinced you’re falling behind. But before you spiral further, take a breath. You’re not alone, and there’s a way to snap out of this productivity panic.

1. Realize You’re Not in a Race

First off, let’s get one thing straight: life isn’t a race. Sure, it feels like everyone around you is speeding ahead, but that doesn’t mean you’re losing. Your journey is your own, and comparing your progress to others is like comparing apples to oranges. Different people have different strengths, learning styles, and paces. What works for someone else might not work for you, and that’s okay.

2. Practice Mindful Self-Compassion

When you catch yourself spiraling, pause and check in with yourself. Are you being too harsh on your own progress? Give yourself some credit. You’re doing your best, and that’s enough. Start practicing self-compassion by treating yourself like you would a friend who’s struggling. Would you tell them they’re a failure, or would you encourage them to keep going? Be your own cheerleader.

3. Focus on Your Progress, Not Theirs

It’s easy to get caught up in what everyone else is doing, but the only progress that really matters is your own. Take a moment to reflect on how far you’ve come instead of how far you think you have to go. Even small steps forward are still progress. Keep a journal or a list of what you’ve accomplished each day, no matter how minor it seems. This will help you stay grounded and motivated.

4. Set Realistic Goals and Celebrate Wins

Instead of trying to match someone else’s pace, set goals that are achievable for you. Break your tasks into manageable chunks, and celebrate each win, no matter how small. Finished a chapter? That’s a win. Wrote 200 words? That’s a win. You don’t need to conquer the world in a day—just keep moving forward at your pace.

5. Take Breaks and Recharge

Burnout is real, and it can sneak up on you if you’re constantly pushing yourself to keep up with others. Schedule regular breaks to recharge. Go for a walk, watch an episode of your favorite show, or just chill out for a bit. Remember, productivity isn’t about working nonstop; it’s about finding a sustainable rhythm.

6. Limit Social Media Consumption

Let’s be honest—social media can be a huge source of comparison and stress. Everyone’s posting their highlights, but you’re not seeing the full picture. Consider cutting back on your social media usage, especially when you’re feeling vulnerable. Out of sight, out of mind. Focus on your journey instead of getting sucked into someone else’s highlight reel.

7. Find a Support System

Surround yourself with people who uplift you. Whether it’s friends, family, or a study group, find a support system that encourages you rather than makes you feel inadequate. Share your struggles and victories with them; chances are, they’re feeling the same way too. A strong support system can make all the difference in keeping your mindset positive.

8. Accept That Perfection Isn’t the Goal

Perfectionism is a trap. Striving for perfection will only lead to more stress and dissatisfaction. Instead, aim for progress and improvement. Mistakes are part of the learning process, and they don’t define your worth. Embrace the idea that doing your best is more than enough.

9. Remember, You’re Doing Great

At the end of the day, it’s important to remind yourself that you’re doing just fine. The fact that you’re even worried about falling behind shows that you care about your progress. Don’t let the comparison game steal your joy and motivation. Keep your eyes on your own path, trust in your process, and give yourself the credit you deserve.

So next time you feel that productivity panic creeping in, take a step back, breathe, and remind yourself that you’re on your own unique journey. You’ve got this.

Best,

Sophia

[chasingmidnights]

Reputation, Part Two: Getaway Car

Title: Getaway Car 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x actress!OC - Kennedy Logan 

Summary: Bucky is doing his best to enjoy retirement. However, one day as he’s out running errands, he ends up rescuing actress, Kennedy Logan, from a crowd of paparazzi. 

Warnings: First, this is for 18+ only, minors DNI!! I don’t think there’s much to really look out for in this part. Maybe some slight angst; harassment via paparazzi; and I think that’s it. I apologize if I missed anything but you are responsible for your own media consumption and what you read on the internet. 

Wordcount: 2,539

Bucky sighed as he stepped out of the bank, his meeting not going as well as he had hoped. Honestly, he hated banks and made things much more difficult than they needed to be, in his opinion anyway. He checked his watch and it was barely eleven and he already had a splitting headache. ‘Coffee,’ he thought to himself, ‘Yeah, coffee will help.’ He then headed down the street, knowing that there was a pretty decent coffee place not too far from here. He shoved his hands into his front pockets as he walked, looking all around him. It still baffled him how much New York had become this massive concrete jungle that it is today. Things had definitely changed since the forties and he had a hard time wrapping his head around how much has changed. He had missed so much and now that he had his own free will again, it was time to play catch up. 

He shook his head of the thoughts, knowing how quickly he could spiral if he continued. He looked around the busy city and as he did so, he couldn’t help but notice a few people staring at him. ‘Great, just what I need, people staring.’ Bucky thought to himself. Ever since the trial and his whole life was put on display, people recognized him practically everywhere. He sighed and did his best to ignore the stares and whispers, continuing on his way to the coffee shop. As he rounded the corner, he saw a crowd outside of the business, immediately eliciting a groan from him. He just wanted a cup of coffee, was that too much to ask for? He wasn’t in the mood for a crowd or the media. 

He took a deep breath and looked down, hoping that he wouldn’t be recognized. Bucky was relieved when no one recognized him as he pushed himself through the crowd and into the coffee shop. He glanced back towards the paparazzi and wondered what they were here for. After a moment, he shrugged his shoulders and walked up to the counter to order his coffee. As he waited, he had been staring at a random spot on the cash register. Even though he had zoned out slightly, his ears were picking up everything around him. From the cameras going nonstop outside, to the conversation the young woman was having on the phone to his left. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but he could hear the strain in her voice as she talked. 

“Look, I know I’m late, but there’s a crowd of paparazzi outside the coffee shop and I’m not about to fight my way through it.” She said sternly, before there was a short pause as she listened to the other person. “Just tell them that I’m sorry, Olive and see if we can reschedule the interview.” She said, before listening to whoever this Olive person was. 

Bucky was brought out of his thoughts when he heard his name being called for his order. He thanked the barista as he put a couple of dollars into the tip jar. He glanced over at the young woman as he turned around, the two making eye contact for a brief moment. Bucky found himself intrigued by her and wondered who was to have a crown of paparazzi after her. He gave her a small nod when he realized that he had been staring for far too long. He was about to face the crowd himself, when he decided he wasn’t ready. He glanced around the coffee shop before he spotted an empty table and figured it would be best to hang out for a while. Hopefully, the paparazzi would eventually get bored, he’d hate to have to fight someone today. He tore his gaze off of the hungry crowd outside and took a long drink of his coffee, the bitter taste welcoming as he people-watched. 

The sound of someone muttering to themselves caught his attention and pulled him from his day-mare. At some point, his people watching had turned into him zoning out and thinking about his past. He shook his head and turned his attention towards the person muttering. It was the young woman who had caught his attention earlier and it sounded as if she was giving herself a pep talk. He glanced towards the crowd and it appeared to have dwindled down some, but still quite a few remained. He was starting to feel bad for her, knowing what it’s like to deal with paparazzi. Bucky watched as she braced herself to go outside and face the crowd. His face scowled as he watched them surround her almost immediately. Concern began to grow when he noticed how aggressive they were becoming as she ignored them. He narrowed his eyes before he picked up his empty cup as he got up and headed out of the coffee shop, throwing away the cup as he passed the trash can. He shoved his way through the crowd until he was next to the young woman, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. She jumped, not expecting to have been touched and she had her hand raised as she turned around, ready to slap whoever it was that had touched her. Bucky immediately raised his hands to show he meant no harm. 

“Woah, easy there tiger.” He said, giving her a nervous smile, maybe touching her like that wasn’t the best idea. 

“What do you want?” She questioned, her hand still raised.

“Just trying to help, looks like you could use a quick getaway.” Bucky offered, hoping he sounded genuine and not as some creep. 

She then lowered her hand, letting out a small sigh as she glanced back towards the paparazzi. “Actually, yeah, I could.”

“Follow me then.” Bucky said as he started to walk ahead of her, stopping when he realized she wasn’t following, he then turned to face her. “I promise, I won’t hurt you.” 

She took a deep breath before she decided to follow after him. Bucky tried not to jog too fast, wanting her to be able to keep up with him. 

“Where are we going?” She asked as they rounded a street corner. 

“Not much farther.” Bucky said, smiling a bit when he saw his bike come into view. He pulled her along as he grabbed her hand, heading towards his bike. 

“A motorcycle?!” She exclaimed, it wasn’t exactly what she was expecting. 

“Problem?” Bucky asked as he handed her his helmet. 

She hesitated before taking it and putting it on, struggling a little bit with the straps. Bucky found it endearing as she struggled with the straps, a smile trying to force its way onto his lips. He then pulled her gently by the bottom of the helmet to help her with the straps. He then got onto his motorcycle and waited for her to hop on behind him. He had just started his bike when the crowd of paparazzi rounded the corner and spotted them. 

“Hold on!” Bucky called back to her and his heart skipped a beat as she wrapped her arms around his waist. He pushed away the feeling as he took off, speeding away and through the city. 

Bucky sat on a bench as he picked at a blade of grass, he had taken them away from the city, figuring that a change of scenery would be nice. He found a little roadside overlook that had a great view of a beautiful lake, but as soon as they got off the bike to rest, she had been glued to her phone. Bucky let out a huff before he glanced over to where she was at, still on the phone. He watched her for a moment before turning back to look at the water. He liked this spot, there was something peaceful about this place that he liked. After a moment of staring out at the water, he finally felt her joining him on the bench. He glanced over at her when he heard the sigh fall from her lips. 

“Everything alright?” He asked, genuinely concerned. 

“Yeah, it will be anyway. Just had to take care of some things with work.” She said nonchalantly, before looking out at the water. “Wow.” 

Bucky nodded at her answer, he understood how grueling work could be sometimes, not that he had to deal with it anymore. “Yeah, I get that.” 

“Oh, thanks for saving me by the way, I appreciate it.” The young woman said, looking over at Bucky, giving him a small smile. 

His stomach fluttered at her smile, he was still getting used to people thanking him. He cleared his throat after a moment. “It was no problem. I know how relentless those paparazzi people can be.” 

Her smile grew at his words. “Really?” 

“Yeah, unfortunately.” He said, thinking back to the trials for a moment. 

She could tell that it was a touchy subject, so she decided to change the subject. “I’m Kennedy, by the way. Kennedy Logan.” 

Bucky smiled at her, it was nice to finally know her name. “Bucky, Bucky Barnes.” 

She arched her brow as she adjusted to face Bucky a little more. “Bucky? Is that a nickname or something?” 

Bucky chuckled at her curiosity. “Yeah, it’s a nickname. My full name is James Buchanan Barnes.” 

She smiled as he told her his full name. “That’s quite the name. I take it Bucky comes from Buchanan?” 

“Yeah, that’s correct.” He said, nodding his head. 

“So, Bucky, can I ask you something?” She asked, looking at him intently. 

“Sure of course.” Bucky said. 

“Why did you rescue me earlier? I mean, you don’t even know me.” Kennedy inquired. “Anyone else would’ve just kept walking or gone the other way.” 

Bucky thought for a moment before he looked over at her. “Well, I’ve done enough bad things to last a lifetime. It’s time I start doing some good.” 

She studied his face for a moment and wondered what he meant by that, but she didn’t want to push him about the matter. “Well, I definitely appreciate it.” 

“Can I ask you something?” Bucky asked. 

“I’m an open book, shoot.” Kennedy answered with a smile. 

He chuckled at her response. “Why were they after you, the paparazzi that is.” 

She tilted her head at him, studying him. She realized that he had no idea who she was and she was kind of surprised, but also relieved that he didn’t know. “They were after me because I’m an actress and I guess since my last movie, I’ve gained some popularity.” 

Bucky nodded his head. “Ah, makes sense. What kind of movies do you make? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

She smiled at his question. “Of course no. I do mainly horror and thrillers, with the occasional romance.” 

Bucky arched a brow, he wasn’t expecting her to say those genres. “Really?” 

“Yeah, why? Can you not see it?” She asked, curious about his answer. 

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Do you like the horror-thriller genre?” He asked, looking over at her. 

She let out a small laugh. “I actually do. The more horror the better.” 

Bucky chuckled at her enthusiasm for the genre. “I haven’t seen too many horror-thriller films, but the one that I have seen I’ve enjoyed. 

“I can make you a list of recommendations if you’d like?” She offered with a smile. 

“Sure, I’ll add them to the list.” Bucky said, flashing her a small smile. 

She arched her brow at his answer. “You have a list?” 

Bucky scratched the back of his neck with his left hand, a little embarrassed about the list of things he needs to experience. As Bucky lifted his left hand, she caught the black and gold prosthetic, causing her curiosity to pique. 

“Uh, yeah. Let’s just say, I haven’t been able to enjoy the finer things in life that most people have gotten to enjoy or experience.” Bucky explained, trying to be as vague as possible.

“Well, I’ll make up a list for ya and if you want, we could watch a couple of movies together. Or do anything else off of your list.” Kennedy offered, wondering what he meant by not being able to experience things. 

Bucky was a bit surprised by her off of helping him. “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

“It’s settled then.” Kennedy said, she then looked back out at the water. “Wow, this place is great. Have you been here before?” 

“No, actually, I haven’t. I just thought we could use a break from the city.” Bucky said, also looking out at the water. 

She was about to say something when her phone started to ring again, causing her to let out a sigh. She pulled out her cell phone and saw that it was her manager calling again. 

“I’m sorry, I have to get this.” Kennedy said, giving him an apologetic look. 

“Go ahead.” Bucky said, gesturing for her to take the call. 

She smiled at him before she answered her phone. “Hey Olive,” She said, getting up and walking over to the bike. 

Bucky glanced behind him and watched her for a moment before looking back at the lake. He couldn’t help but think about spending time with her again, something about her intrigued him. After a moment, Kennedy returned and sat back down next to him, letting out a sigh. 

“Everything alright?” Bucky asked. 

“Yeah, but unfortunately it seems that I need to get back.” Kennedy answered, a hint of disappointment in her voice. 

“Hey, no worries. I can take you back, just tell me where I need to drop you.” Bucky said, standing up then offering his hand to help her up. 

Kennedy smiled up at him before taking his left hand, surprised at how smooth the prosthetic hand was. Bucky gently pulled her up with ease and they started to walk back to his bike. He was a bit surprised when she continued to hold onto his hand as they walked, immediately sending butterflies to his stomach. When they got to his bike, he helped her with the helmet again before climbing onto his motorcycle. 

“You good?” He called back to her. 

“Yeah!” She yelled back as she slid her arms around Bucky’s waist again. 

His heart fluttered at the feeling as he started the motorcycle, the engine coming to life with a loud roar. He double checked to make sure it was clear before pulling out onto the road. The drive back to the city was too short for his liking and he couldn’t help but feel disappointed as he dropped her off to where she needed to be. He watched as she walked away, making sure she made it inside alright before he took off. Once she was out of sight, Bucky let out a small sigh. Even though they had exchanged numbers and had already made plans to see each other again, he felt the dread of loneliness creep up on him. But for the first time, in a long time, he had hope and it was all because of her. He took off into the city, darting in and out of the lanes as he thought about seeing Kennedy again.

[btsgotjams27]

this is us ~ jjk | 16

six months later and you're still not over jungkook, and when you finally hit rock bottom, you realize you have to pick yourself up because no one else can do it for you.

✨ title: this is us | (sequel to all grown up) ✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader | ✨ rating: m/18+ | minors dni ✨ genre/au: drama, romance, angst, fluff, smut | est!relationship, age gap, bff's younger brother ✨ playlist | AO3 & Wattpad ✨ a/n: if you haven’t read the prequel to this, please do so here! :) ✨ a/n 2: hello, hello! can you believe we're almost done with this series? it's been a crazy journey for these two, hasn't it? lol. well, i'll just say the angst is strong in this chapter but! this is the last angsty chapter, which i'm kind of happy for myself, my readers, and the characters lmaooooo. i hope y'all enjoy it and now it's only going up from this point out!

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] | next ✨ 17 ~ one year later

chapter 16 ~ so maybe you're not okay | wc: 5.4k warnings: time skip (6 months later), angst, reader is reflecting on her past actions, language, alcohol consumption, *some* tough love, self-deprecation, depressing thoughts, mentions of throwing up smut warnings: kissing, touching, groping, breast play

~ six months since the breakup ~

Six months have passed since you and Jungkook split up. Sometimes, your heart ached continually, and you wondered when it would stop or ever cease. You almost gave in and called to check how he was doing or what he was up to, but you didn't. It was foolish to believe he'd want to talk to you since he, too, was hurt. You had shattered his heart for the second time, and you shouldn't be surprised if he never wanted to hear from you again.

Your heart skipped a beat anytime his name was uttered, whether it was Jin or Yuna. A part of you wanted to know if he was doing well or if he was as unhappy as you, but you were hoping for the latter. He deserved happiness, and you wanted him to find it even if you weren’t a part of it.

As much as you wanted to run away from responsibilities, you couldn’t. Your show was the only thing that kept you going—for now, at least. Critics and audiences alike praised the first half of the season, but as the season proceeded, numbers began to fall, making you doubt your talent and career. Could your writing be suffering as a result of your breakup? It did take up a lot of your mental space these days.

You wanted to hide under a rock and never come out again, it was virtually impossible because your phone rang nonstop day and night, attempting to put out fires—executives, producers, and writers breathing down your neck, never letting you take a breath. You just wanted everything to halt, and you just wanted no one to need you. But you were reminded of that whenever you stepped into your apartment. You didn’t know which was worse anymore.

The show's last day couldn’t have come any faster, and Kenji wanted to go big and celebrate the filming wrapping. You arrived at the beautiful modern building, which hardly looked like a restaurant.

“Hello, darling.”

You turned to your ex-boyfriend, his arm snaking around your waist. He could never help himself, but you smacked his arm away. “Kenji,” you said with a scowl.

“I’m sorry, love—habit.” You rolled your eyes. “Come on, let’s celebrate,” he said, holding his arm for you to take, though you didn’t amuse him by doing so. You were tired of his antics.

Because it was a party and you were practically the face of the project, you had to put on your best smile and pretend everything was fine—better than okay, perfect because you had gotten what you wanted out of your career, you had worked your ass off to get where you are. Still, none of this mattered if you didn't have the most important person by your side, but you didn’t dare utter his name.

If there was one thing you hated about being in this industry, it was the mingling aspect. Of course, you cared for your crew but showed it differently than how Kenji wanted to. You preferred intimate gatherings, taking a few groups to talk and catch up.

Though, at this point, you didn’t want to be around anyone anymore and just wanted to eliminate the noise clouding up your mind and space.

“Hey, babe. Are you doing okay?” Hyunie asked, pulling you in for a hug.

You loved your friend, but you swear to God if she asked you one more time if you were okay, you’d explode. “I’m fine,” you snapped, closing your eyes.

Having Hyunie by your side throughout this project was a godsend, and you couldn’t have done it without her. As Yuna was busy with baby Indie, Hyunie became your right-hand gal, almost waiting on you hand and foot.

She cleared her throat. “I just wanted to make sure,” she muttered, ready to walk away.

“Wait, Hyunie—” You turned, grasping her hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s okay. I know you’re stressed. I’ll leave you alone.”

God—were you always this bitchy and cranky? Or had you unlocked a new part of yourself that you’d only discovered after breaking up with Jungkook? Either way, you’d lose your friend if you didn’t stop.

You had stopped counting how many glasses of wine you had accepted from the server as he passed by with his tray, but it had to have been more than enough for you to want to kiss the next person you saw.

Aimlessly, you stared at your wine glass. Are you the only one like this? What the fuck are you doing with your life? Pretending to be okay when you weren’t. Shit—you were so fucking pathetic.

Every day, the same thing, over and over again. Mindlessly, alone. You were gradually losing yourself in your innermost thoughts.

Tomorrow may be better. Maybe it’ll be alright. But who were you kidding? They were nothing but lies. You were too far gone, too broken. And it didn’t look like it could ever be reversed.

“So, you’re the big boss, hmm?”

You looked up to see a handsome man donned in an all-black outfit, his honey-skin chest practically on display, the deep V of his silk shirt leading your eyes down to his lower half. “That’s me,” you muttered, swirling the last of what was left in your wine glass.

“Can I get you a refill?”

“Yes, please.”

The man flashed a beautiful smile before going behind the counter, reaching underneath to pull up a bottle of wine.

“Are you supposed to be back there?” you asked, raising a brow because he wasn’t a crew member from your show. Actually, you had never seen him before.

He chuckled. “I’m Jung Hoseok, co-owner of Onjium.” You held your glass out for him to refill.

“It’s a beautiful restaurant, and the food is immaculate.”

“Ah, why, thank you,” he remarked. “Should I return the favor and praise your show?”

You tried to suppress your smirk by sipping the red wine. “I’d rather you praise me instead."

Hoseok's tongue darts to wet his lips, biting the bottom. "I can do that."

It had been too long since you had kissed anyone, alone let anyone even touch you. But Hoseok’s kisses from the column of your neck trailing towards your collarbone made you realize how horny you were—and your vibrator wasn’t cutting it anymore. You weren’t sure why you hadn’t sought out a fuck buddy in the first place. It would’ve easily taken your mind off everything and relieved some stress.

His hardened length brushed against your clothed heat, his soft lips continuing to mark your body, his hand on the small of your back, eliminating the distance between you. “Fuck—you’re so sexy,” he kissed your lips. “Why isn’t every man dropping to their knees for you?”

You throw your head back, a chuckle leaving your lips. “Do you always flatter every woman who walks through your restaurant’s doors?” you ask, tugging at his belt, unfastening it with his pants.

He grins and shakes his head. “I never do things like this,” he lies through his teeth.

“Uh-huh, sure,” you quip back. “So you’ve never fucked anyone on this couch before?” You found it hard to believe—a good-looking man like him, not fucking every beautiful that walked into his restaurant?

“Nope, never,” he laughs, coming in for another kiss, his hard length pressing into your lower abdomen, making you ache and crave what’s hidden beneath those briefs. “Can I?” he asks, toying with the thin straps of your dress.

“Please do. I’m at your service to be praised and adored.” You were hardly ever this bold or confident. Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through your veins, coinciding with how shitty you’ve been feeling these past several months.

Hoseok’s slender fingers drew imaginary circles into your skin. He studied your face—eyes closed, mouth agape, and head lolled back. Savoring every moment as you bite your bottom lip, just waiting for him to continue as he pleased. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

Honestly, at this moment? Anything—anything to relieve the ache that was building inside your body.

He hums, waiting for your answer.

You opened your eyes and straightened your posture. He still hadn’t removed your straps, so you did it for him, agonizingly slow, of course—just as he teased you, you did the same to him. But your stupid bra stood in the way until you unfastened the hooks, freeing your breasts one at a time. His attention is now diverted from your eyes to your chest, taking in the perfect view.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you leaned in, whispering, “I want you to fuck me so hard that you have to take me home and then fuck me all over again.”

He shifted in his seat, adjusting himself, then gripped the soft flesh of your ass through your black slip dress. His hands roamed the sides of your body. His eyes fixated on your breasts before palming them in his hands. “Fuck–yes. You don’t have to tell me twice.”

His hand reached the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. You spread your legs wider, rolling your hips against his erection. Faint whimpers leave your lips when his fingers pinch your stiff peaks.

“Fuck–Kook. I need you inside me.”

“Name’s Hoseok,” he says between kisses.

“Don’t–don’t talk.”

“Anything you want, princess.”

You pulled away with a deadpan expression, breathing a loud sigh.

“You just ruined it.” Of course, he couldn’t have known that you hated that pet name, but that pet name also brought you back to reality.

You drew the strings of your dress back over your shoulders, proceeding to grab the rest of your things. “I’m sorry, Hoseok. I shouldn’t have done this,” you say, looking around for your bra.

“Was it something I said?”

Technically, yes, but also, you were stupid for trying to sleep with a man you had just met. This wasn’t you. You didn’t go around fucking random strangers–you much preferred being in a loving relationship, not one-night stands with men you’d never see again.

“No–it’s me. I’m sorry.”

Quickly, you left the crime scene, slipping into a taxi, still holding your bra because you couldn't put it back on without someone stopping to talk to you. With eyes closed and a loud sigh, your head lolled back on the car’s headrest. The angel on your shoulder was berating you for making bad decisions. The devil told you to return to the man who wanted to sleep with you and show you a good time. Right now, you didn’t want to listen to either of them.

You open your eyes and straighten your posture, catching a glimpse of yourself in the rearview. The person staring back was unrecognizable—having sunk to the lowest of the lows, unsure if you could pick yourself back up. At this point, you wondered how your friends could even put up with you. You didn’t even want to be around yourself—a pitiful mess you were.

Sundays were brunch days at Yuna and Namjoon’s. It was a tradition the group had organized since the new parents had their hands full.

But you lay in bed, thinking of the many excuses you could give to your best friend to get out of this brunch you had started to loathe. It reminded you of your mother’s family reunion dinners.

You 9:27 AM *cough*cough* I’m not feeling well. I think I drank too much.

Yuna 9:29 AM 😒 Get your ass over here. I don’t care if you’re on your deathbed.

Tae 9:30 AM Dang—mama don’t play. You tell her, Noona!

Hyunie 9:30 AM Seriously, taetae? Why??? Why are you like this? 😑

Joon 9:31 AM I’m making my infamous avocado toast.

Jin 9:32 AM Namjoon cooking? *cough*cough* I’m sick too.

Yuna 9:33 AM Oh! Don’t make me slap all of you through this phone. Everyone be here at 10:30! OR ELSE.

You 9:33 AM Fine…

Jin 9:34 AM Okay—MOM.

Tae 9:34 AM Or else, what? You’ll spank me?

Hyunie 9:35 AM Someone come strangle my husband before I do!!

Even if you were on your deathbed, huh? Apparently, you still had to attend this infamous Sunday brunch.

A notification bell came through your phone, illuminating your screen.

Jin 9:37 AM I can come pick you up.

You 9:38 AM Why? You don’t trust that I’ll go there?

Jin 9:38 AM Nope 🙃 See you soon friend.

The car ride to Yuna’s consisted of nothing but radio silence. Jin looked over, watching you mindlessly observe pedestrians, deep in thought about who knows what. He wanted to interrupt many times but didn’t want to appear insensitive.

“You look like shit,” Taehyung remarked, sitting at the table.

“Thanks, Taehyung. I really appreciate your honesty,” you faked a smile before letting it falter. “FYI—this is what I look like, hungover.”

“You seem to be drinking a lot these days,” Yuna couldn’t help but comment.

“There’s nothing wrong with drinking,” Namjoon responded as he was focused on smashing the avocados in the bowl. He looked up to see his wife glaring at him. “What?” He cleared his throat. “I mean, as long as it’s done in moderation. We don’t want anything bad to happen to our bodies.” He looked over at Yuna again, who was pleased with his answer.

“Maybe just slow down on the mimosas today, babe,” Hyunie interjected when you picked up the tall, slim glass and sipped. Whoever made it went a bit overboard on the champagne. It wouldn’t be your fault, it was whoever made this.

“I’m fine,” you noted. “I’m a big girl, and I can care for myself.”

With her tongue in cheek, Yuna tuts as she spreads the butter on the piece of bread, preparing the pan for the avocado toast.

You wanted to let that slide because she had been like this for the past few months, making snide, snarky comments or saying things under her breath. Maybe motherhood was taking a toll. Maybe she hadn’t had enough sleep. Maybe she, too, was pissed off at the world.

“Do you have something you want to say to me?” You set your glass down, folding your arms across your chest. Maybe you were feeling confident after the sip of orange juice and champagne.

Everyone quieted down, pretending not to let this conversation become awkward, trying to do other things to distract themselves.

Yuna placed the bread into the warm pan, letting it sizzle, but she didn’t answer you. She had wanted to talk to you privately for a while now, but everything was bubbling up to the surface, and she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

Namjoon clenched his jaw and lightly elbowed her, giving her the staredown of the century, mouthing, “Not now.”

“Why not? Hmm?” she answers aloud to her husband. “She needs to hear what I have to say.”

He looks at everyone whose eyes are now on the couple in the kitchen. “There’s a time and place if you want to talk, but not in front of everyone,” he said in a hushed tone, quickly glancing at you, then back to his smashed avocados.

“Yuna, if you have something to say, just fucking say it.” You were tired of all these side eyes and unspoken words.

She sighs and then turns off the stovetop, removing the pan from the heat. “It’s been six months, Y/n. Six months since Jungkook left.”

“Yeah, you don’t think I fucking know that? I have to live with that knowledge every day. Why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone and let me drink in peace?” Picking up the glass, you took another sip; the bubbly drink fizzled down your throat. “I’m fine,” you lied. “Sometimes I just want to wallow in all the shit I’m feeling, okay? And be fucking depressed, sad, and hurt. Am I not allowed to do that?”

Hyunie steps closer, grasping your arm. “Of course, you can, but we’re just worried about you and want you to talk to us.”

“What do you want me to say?” You look around the room, trying your best to hold it together. Your tongue darted to lick your lips, teeth nibbling your bottom lip, but the yearning in your heart welled to the surface, just waiting to erupt. “You want me to say that I fucked up? Instead of pushing Jungkook away, I should’ve tried to work through it. That I should've gone to LA to get him back? Well, it's too fucking late. I can't do shit now. He's probably moved on with his life and is doing ten times better than I am."

You let go of Hyunie and sat in the dining chair. "God–I'm so pathetic." You wiped the tears streaming down your face. "I feel so numb, so broken," you said with a shaky voice. "I just want to wake up from this stupid nightmare, but I can't because this is my fucking reality. I know I have no one to blame but myself for this mess."

Everyone looked at you with pity and remorse. Practically watching you fall apart. You didn't want this to happen but knew it eventually would.

Yuna sympathized with her best friend, and she did. But she also had her baby brother to worry about as well. She knew how he was doing–which was much better than you right now, and you were right. He had moved on and was in a better spot, mentally and emotionally.

She walked over to you, placing her hand on yours, gently rubbing the top of your hand. Yuna softly sighed, “I love you, I do. But sometimes I just wanna give you a good smack.”

“Jagi!” Namjoon quips, setting down his fork.

“In a loving way, of course,” she pauses, “I'm sorry things turned out the way they did with you and Jungkook. It hurts me to see you like this–living life so aimlessly. If you want him, go get him. If you don't, then move on.”

“It's not that simple,” you said, turning to her.

“I know—but you have to try. Take it one day at a time. Do something fun. Try something you’ve never done before. Get your mind off everything,” Yuna suggests.

She was right. Since your show had wrapped up and nothing else lined up, you could do as you, please. Maybe you could find a new hobby or travel—it’s been a minute since you had a proper vacation. Honestly, traveling to a secluded place seemed like a dream. But would it be a ruse to run away from your problems, or would it help you move on? Could it be a bit of both?

“I’m sorry, guys. I am.” You look up to your friends who have been supportive these past few months while you were at rock bottom.

Jin, Namjoon, and Taehyung grunted or hummed, acknowledging your apology before distracting themselves with something else.

Hyunie comes in for an embrace. “You’re gonna be okay. I know it.” She pulls away, the corners of her lips curving into a reassuring smile.

“I don’t deserve you guys.”

“You don’t,” Jin jokes, in which Namjoon glares at him. “What?” He stuffs a blueberry in his mouth. “Just saying.”

You were conscious of your choices and actions and aware of the consequences; nevertheless, accepting and coming to terms with them was another matter.

Regardless, if you wanted to get out of this deep, dark hole you’ve dug, no one could help you unless you helped yourself.

With nowhere to go, nothing to do, and no one to see—your life felt like it had no meaning, no purpose.

Do something fun.

Yuna’s voice echoed from the day before. Fun? You didn’t even know what you considered fun anymore. What did you even like besides writing and working? No new films were interesting, at least not enough to make you want to pay to sit in front of the big screen. And you just knew you’d be scrolling through Netflix for hours trying to find something to watch before ultimately giving up. There was no point, you thought.

And since none of those things were riveting, you again found yourself at the bar. At least, it was the first time you’d gone this week. Well—to be honest, the week had just begun.

“Another Moscow mule, please,” you inquired, waving down the bartender. It was only your third one of the night, but given that your speech was becoming unintelligible—you’d be cut off soon.

The bartender nodded, acknowledged your request, and began working on your drink.

You held onto the black straw, mindlessly stirring the ice in the copper mug. Your eyes laser-focused on the bottle sitting behind the bar back—Highland Park, single malt whiskey. You preferred cocktails over straight liquor. You didn’t think you could handle all the alcohol content; hell, you could hardly hold the ones in cocktails.

Next to the shelf of liquor stood a mirror, but you couldn’t recognize the person in the reflection. Who was she? Six months had passed since the breakup, and the person in the mirror looked grim and unhappy. You couldn’t remember the last time you genuinely smiled or even laughed, and you had forgotten what true joy felt like.

This past year drained you emotionally and physically. You weren’t sure you had even gotten through all of it, and storing these traumatic, unpleasant memories in your amygdala only to resurface when you drank, forced you to deal with your emotions and feelings—things you didn’t want to touch. They were too painful and tortuous. It was easier to leave them be, brush them off, pretend that life could go on—but you had to face these memories and feelings sooner rather than later, or you’d never be able to pull yourself out of the hole you had dug.

The soft murmur of your name broke your focus on yourself in the mirror. You turned to see Min Yoongi beside you in a black button-down with a turtleneck underneath.

“Why do you look like you just sat down to be interviewed for a documentary?” You ask without regard to how he is doing or what he was doing at the bar.

Yoongi laughed at your abruptness. “I just came from a meeting with a colleague and came here for drinks, but he had to head out; then I saw you sitting here, so here I am.”

“Mmhm, here you are.” Your eyes lit up when the bartender handed you your drink.

“Can I get a single malt whiskey? Neat.”

You chuckled because you were looking at the bottle the bartender picked up.

“You okay?” Yoongi asked, sitting beside you, his knee slightly brushing against yours before swiveling away in his stool.

It would be easy to say, ‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ and go on the rest of the night indulging in small talk, but did you want to open a can of worms?

You gave your attention to the new Moscow mule sitting before you, stabbing the lime with the black straw and pushing it down to the bottom. You turn to him, “I feel like I’m gonna break down and cry at a moment’s notice.”

For some reason, it felt easier to bare your soul to someone who knew nothing about your life because all your friends quickly judged you and your decisions. But not with Yoongi. He knew the bare minimum about you.

“It’s okay to cry. Just don’t cry alone,” he simply said before thanking the bartender and sipping his whiskey.

Honestly, you hadn’t cried in the past few months. You felt more numb than anything, but the accumulation of your relationship with your mom, infertility, and Jungkook was enough to make you want to break down and give up on everything in life. The weight of it all was coming to a peak, ready to erupt.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” he teased, to which you rolled your eyes. He took another sip, waving for you to continue.

“Do you ever ask yourself what the fuck you’re doing with your life?”

“All the time,” he chuckled. “It’s normal to ask that question. Think about it—we’re living, breathing humans that live on a rock floating through time and space.”

“Yes! Oh my god! I think about that all the time. Why do all of my problems seem so big in my little world? But compared to how big the world is, it seems silly, minuscule, and unimportant. I mean, the person walking down the street probably has bigger problems than me.”

“Mm, that could be true, but don’t minimize your hurt and feelings. It’s important to recognize and learn from those things and let them shape a better you.”

“Why get a shrink when all you need is ‘Min Yoongi’ in your life?” You finally take a sip of your drink, the ice already melting in place, the condensation pooling a rim on the napkin.

He chuckled at your joke. “I’m hardly a therapist. I’ve just—I’ve been where you are, and I’m sorry it sucks, but give it time. You’ll be okay.”

“But, like, how do you know that?”

“Well, I don’t,” he took a swig of his whiskey. “I mean, there aren’t many things in our control, but for the things that are, it’s important to do what we can. We can only manage what’s right in front of us. We don’t know what will happen tomorrow, next week, or three months from now. Just worry about what’s happening right here, right now. That’s all you can do, you know?”

You recognized the truth behind Yoongi’s words and wanted to believe it. You did. But it was always easier said than done. Maybe you just needed more time, time to find yourself again. Maybe find joy in the little things, in yourself, and become comfortable in your skin without the dissonance of your friends. This time in your life would be as good as any since you had nothing lined up for you, work-wise. There was no one to keep you here in Seoul. You could go anywhere if you wanted to. Would now be the right time to uproot your life and go wherever your heart desired?

Yoongi could see you pondering his words, maybe letting the reality of it all soak in. He chugged the last of his whiskey, setting the glass down. “Come on, let me take you home.”

You lifted your finger, ready to key in your apartment's code, before returning to Yoongi. “Do you wanna come in?”

He hesitated before answering, “I shouldn’t.”

“You’re not going to tuck me in; make sure I don’t drown in my vomit?” Yoongi snickers. “Sorry, I’m not in my right mind right now. You don’t have to come in.”

“You’re not gonna make this easy, are you?”

“I just gave you an out. You can leave if you want, but if you don’t hear from me tomorrow, will you be ready to live with that guilt if something happened to me?” You could’ve easily eliminated the last line but couldn’t help yourself. Let’s blame it on the alcohol for the sudden confidence.

Yoongi’s tongue darted out, licking his lips, the corners of his mouth curving into a smile. He nodded toward your door. “Come on. Let’s get you tucked in.”

“I just want to lay on a nice, warm beach. Or I guess I’ll try to dream of it tonight.”

Yoongi followed you into the bedroom and lunged forward to keep you standing straight before you plopped onto the bed. “I have a vacation home in Phuket if you ever need to get away from here.”

“You do?” Your eyes widen in delight, almost wanting to take up his offer.

“Yeah, Tae and Hyunie went there recently, and I’m only ever there occasionally. Feel free to use it if you’d like.”

“Is this the part where you plan to murder me, and no one will ever find my body?” you joke, referring to when he said he’d take you home the first night you met, even though you hardly knew him then.

“I think you’ve been watching one too many Law and Order episodes, huh?”

You shrug. “You can never be too careful, you know!”

Yoongi laughs. “If I wanted to murder you, I’d have done it already.”

“I don’t know. Maybe you’re waiting for the perfect moment. Like when I’m all vulnerable in my bed.” He shows off his gummy smile, a feature you’ve come to appreciate. “You should smile more often. You have a really pretty smile.”

He shook his head, letting out a soft chuckle as he turned away from you. Through the short time, he’s known you, you were never this honest with him.

You sigh. "Can I skip to the part where everything will be okay again?"

Yoongi kneeled by your bedside and flashed a closed-lipped smile before scanning over your features. Apparently, you were just full of questions tonight, but he didn’t mind. "Where you are now is not where you'll always be."

He seemed so positive and empathetic toward your situation, which you were grateful for. It's possible he was just being kind, but he had plenty more to say. He was almost like your personal fortune cookie, always ready with an answer.

"That's easy for you to say." You snuggled deeper into your fluffy pillow, pulling the duvet under your chin.

"Mm–yeah, it is," he chuckled. "Well, there's a high chance that the future you want never happens, and if you put too much meaning into it, it'll torment you."

“Gee, thanks,” you said dryly. 

“You know what I mean.”

You stick out your tongue in protest, pulling the duvet over your head. “Just say I’m being pathetic. I can handle it,” you lie, muffled through the sheets. You were one step away from losing your shit.

Yoongi cleared his throat, lifting the duvet so he could say goodbye. He could see the sadness in your eyes when you looked back at him, and he only knew what you were going through because Kim Taehyung had a big mouth and shared whatever details he knew about you and your ex-boyfriend. But he never wanted to press you further unless you wanted to share.

“Well, I’m gonna head out. It looks like you’re tucked in safely and not dying, so...”

He proceeded to stand, but you sat up, grabbing his hand, your hand lingering longer than usual. Your eyes focused on his plush lips, then you moved in, closing your eyes for a kiss, but he pulled away.

“I’m sorry.” He stood, taking another step toward the door. “You’re cool, but I don’t kiss people when they’re not sober.”

Your cheeks become warm, your gaze avoiding his. “I’m sorry. As you can probably tell, I’m not in the right mind frame, and I’m very susceptible to handsome men when they’re sweet.”

Yoongi flashed a thin smile. “It’s okay. I’ll pretend nothing happened,” he remarked, waving his hand again before leaving you alone in your bedroom.

When you heard the front door closed, you grabbed your pillow and screamed into it. Why was kissing someone always your answer when feeling shitty about yourself? At this point, Yoongi probably found you as foolish as one could be. He probably wondered how and why Hyunie and Taehyung continued to be friends with someone like you.

You set the pillow aside, sliding under your covers, thinking about the question you asked Yoongi earlier at the bar.

What the fuck are you doing with your life?

So much of your adulthood was spent trying to survive your childhood and the trauma that came with it, and as you became an adult, you hoped the person you had become would be the person you needed when you were a child. But in reality, you felt like an imposter. The adult version of you was trying her best to be what that little girl needed, though ultimately, you failed her.

You knew deep down inside that you needed to stop whatever this path of destruction was, stop blaming others, not wait to be rescued, and most of all, stop refusing to participate fully in life. You had friends who became like family to you, who loved you no matter what you did. Was that not enough?

Inevitably, you were aware that no one could save you but yourself. You’d spent your life stuck in this endless cycle that no one had created but yourself.

You stopped before you started. You gave up before you even attempted. You talked yourself out of it before you got into it.

In retrospect, you knew you were also at fault regarding Jungkook. You sabotaged your relationship because you couldn’t bear the pain. But what if you had tried and given everything, and it worked out?

But as Yoongi said, it’s better not to dwell on a future that may not happen. Otherwise, you’d continue this endless cycle of torment.

✨ a/n 3: so, how are we doing? how are we feeling? do we have any theories on what'll happen next? what do we think about yoongi? let me know (:

also! i still plan on doing the podcast episode, so start thinking of questions, comments, rambles/rants (:

✨ next ~ 17 ~ one year later

[bangtansmauyeondan]

THIRTY-FIVE | Bonus Clip - 12 Years Ago

Pairing: In-Studio Director!Jungkook x Stage Director!Fem Reader

Genre: rivals au, social media au, frenemies to lovers, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, crack.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: explicit language, mentions of abandonment, alcohol consumption, harmless scheming, dare, bet, smut

Summary: It has always been the battle of the best between you and your college rival, Jungkook. What happens when years later, you cross paths again working for the same network broadcasting company, and the competitive flame is rekindled? Well, a whole new drunken bet that determines your futures wasn’t in your line of vision but here you are… and you have until 35.

SERIES TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @babyboo22 @dionysusenthusiast @luaspersona @timelessruins @royallyjjk @sandraviolante-blog @quarter-life-crisis2 @jub-jub @pb-n-juju @jeonxgoogiee @sugaluvmyg

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @astronaut-jin-moon @persphonesorchid @thatbangtanjagiya @taestefully-in-luv @btsstan12 @bts-reveries @blog-name-idk @madbutgloriouspond @pamzn @wrmnssoul @ygbubs @halesandy @jayhope88 @bnagtanx1306 @pinkseokchim @busanbby-jjk @babycandy111

•••

“Someone must be in a good mood,” Mr. Xu, one of your professors, smiled as he approached you at the gallery. “Need help?”

You're humming absentmindedly while hanging up your photographs at your designated booth, immensely excited for the exhibit opening the following day. Yes, you’re in a good mood. Why? You’re one of the only two film majors who have been invited to showcase their photos at this year’s Arts Festival. You didn’t think your photos were good enough, especially when compared with the photography students’ entries; but the dean had a different opinion.

“Thank you, Mr. Xu,” you smiled timidly at him as he picked up one of the frames to hang up. “Do you know where the other film student is setting up?”

Mr. Xu chuckled and shook his head at your question, wisps of his bright blue and purple hair swaying along. “He’s setting up right across from you,” he tilted his head to the direction of the booth a few feet away from yours. “Do you know him? I think you go to the same classes.”

“What’s his name? I just might.”

“Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. Does it ring a bell?”

Oh, Jeon Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook, the one who seems shy at first, but in reality is a big ball of energy. He strides inside the classroom like he owns the place. He talks nonstop– he talks when he’s thinking, he talks to his seatmates, he talks to inanimate objects. He can draw, he can paint, he can shoot, he can sing, he can dance, and some say he can even cook. He is one of many talents and abilities– including making people, men and women, fall for him. Who can blame the guy? He is well-mannered, especially to the professors and the staff, and he looks like a dashing prince in a pair of combat boots and an all-black ensemble. Jeon Jungkook is really something else. So does the name ring a bell? The Russian Tsar Bell, no doubt.

“Oh yeah…” Your cheeks turned a few shades of crimson. “I know of him, I don’t know him personally though.”

Mr. Xu crossed his arms as he nodded, “How come?” He furrowed his eyebrows. “You two should meet and get along.”

“In time, probably, Mr. Xu,” you smiled politely.

“Alright, I’m gonna go check on the other students,” he patted your shoulder encouragingly. “Congratulations again, Yn… I’ll see you around.”

“Bye, Mr. Xu. Thank you for stopping by!”

—

“I swear to God, Mingyu, please!” Jungkook tugged on his friend's camera strap causing him to stumble backwards.

“What the hell, JK!?” Mingyu removed the camera strap from his body so Jungkook could no longer pull on it. “She knows you already, just say Hi!”

“No, she doesn’t!” He bit on his lower lip, “I mean she does, but she’s never talked to me before, I don’t know if she even knows my name.”

“Of course she does, are you crazy!?”

“What’s so difficult about introducing me to her?” he stopped walking, causing Mingyu to stop on his tracks too.

“It shouldn’t be difficult because she already knows you!”

“What, so do I just go up to her, ask her out the very first time I talk to her?” Jungkook rolled his eyes, “I would seem like a total douche. There has to be gradual progress, you know?”

Mingyu stared back at him, trying to process what he just said. After a few seconds, which to Jungkook seemed like ten minutes, Mingyu finally sighed and gave in. “She’s DK’s bestfriend, he knows her longer than I do. You should ask DK for help.”

Jungkook punched the air multiple times and jogged aggressively in place before wrapping his arms around Mingyu excitedly, “I will! You’re the bestestbest friend in the whole universe, Kim Mingyu!” Then he’s off running down the campus grounds to go find his other friend.

—

Jungkook paced back and forth in his designated booth at the exhibit mustering up the courage to talk to the girl he’s been crushing on since the moment he stepped foot in that Screenwriting 101 class.

“What are you waiting for, dude?” DK playfully kicked his shin causing him to stop pacing. “She’s right there.”

“Okay, okay… I’m just trying to hype myself up.”

“... by acting like a pendulum?” Mingyu snickered.

“Okay, first of all, a pendulum? How old are you?” Jungkook bit back. “Okay, let me go through this again… number one, I’m gonna chat her up about her muse in the photos, right?”

“Mm-hmm,” DK agreed.

“Okay, number two, I’m gonna ask her if she’s comfortable being someone else’s muse…”

“Correct,” Mingyu nodded.

“Finally, I’m gonna ask her if she would like to be my muse for my next photo series because I’m pretty sure her photos would turn out more beautiful than any other models.”

“Mama mia!” DK kissed his fingers dramatically, “That’s it. I’m pretty sure she’s gonna swoon over those words.”

“Isn’t it creepy though?”

“No, dude. You’re totally fine.” Mingyu encouraged him more with a grin.

“Okay, okay! Wish me luck!” Jungkook pulled his shoulders back and cracked his neck for good measure before striding over to the booth right across from his. Mingyu and DK follow discreetly behind, ready to sneak in and eavesdrop on the conversation.

Jungkook cleared his throat to get his crush’s attention and he could have sworn he heard the bells ringing behind his ears as she turned around to face him. “Hi… Yn, right?”

You smiled sweetly. “Hi, yes. Jungkook?”

“Yeah,” he slipped his hands inside his pockets and tilted his head to your photo wall. “Nice photos… beautiful muse.”

“Thanks,” you felt your cheeks heating up at the compliment. You also couldn’t explain the butterflies fluttering in your stomach when Jungkook stepped closer allowing you to catch a whiff of his perfume.

“Would you… uh,” Jungkook stammered. “Would you like to go on a walk with me while I take photos? I’m sure my photos will turn out much better.” Fuck. That came out wrong.

Just like that, all the butterflies in your stomach dropped dead then and there.

Jungkook was too stunned to backtrack.

Mingyu’s shoulders slumped.

DK facepalmed.

“Umm…” You glanced at your watch. “No, I’d very much like to stay right here.” You deadpanned. “Thanks, Jungkook. I’ll see you around.” You turned your back at him and started picking up imaginary dust on your framed photos. The audacity of this arrogant man to saunter right over and insult you? You’re not having any of it. No. Never. Fuming with anger, you swore to yourself that whatever Jeon Jungkook does from this day on moving forward, you’re going to outdo no matter what. No one insults you and your work and gets away with it– not even the man you’ve been crushing on since you bumped into him in one of your classes two years ago.

Jungkook slowly backed away from your booth cursing himself internally. Why did he get so nervous? He rehearsed everything in his mind before he came over but he still managed to fuck up.

Guess today’s just not his lucky day.

•••

A/N — Oops. 🫣

[frogsandfries]

Nobody tell my boss, but I'm barely coping with the increased call volume we've been having; there just is absolutely no fucking way.

The last time I went THC shopping, I bought some caffeinated gummies. I try not to use caffeine after two or three, because for me, it generally wears off after about six hours and cutting my consumption means it's metabolized well before I'm going to sleep. Obviously I'm not using THC at work because, duh, I don't want to mess up and get in trouble. So I've been having trouble coming up with an actual use case scenario. But there's a dose, for me personally anecdotally, gives me just enough of a high to be too happy to be stressed. I'm sure everyone has theirs; mine is thankfully and cursedly rather low.

And I have enough of this gummy to last me two weeks. So, for better or worse, I will need to try to squeeze enough money out next check to get another packet; I think we're doing this OT for at least a month. I just don't see any reason that I need to be clawing my way out of my seasonal depression (good news, I'm out of the full hibernation phase and back in the ADHD-dominated brain phase) and exhausted from working ten-hour, non-stop, no-chill days, and fully absorbing all the stress this is going to bring me. I don't see why I can't put a little barrier down for myself.

I do want to point out, again, I am barely coping with the workload that we've been getting. I've been looking for other projects, but there just does not seem to be much. I'm willing to stick this out till next AEP, and ideally from there, I can grab something more interesting and feasible for me. But I need to not get fired for poor attendance, and I need to keep paying my rent. This is, of course, a temporary crutch--not even to mention, edibles are, of course, more expensive than bud. I do not earn that much money normally, to make a habit of consuming at work to get through my day. Not to mention, chill days where I get maybe eight to twenty calls--fine. Days where I'm getting absolutely battered nonstop? I just can't. I don't get paid enough to just suck it up. Not even time and a half for ten hours a week.

[ichigopanhpff]

Someday... Chapter 2: When Everything Was Lost

[Last Chapter] -- [Masterlist]-- [Next Chapter]

🎵 BGM: Tonun "Luv Key"

Warning: Light alcohol consumption.

“You come back to Japan and you don’t even contact your old friends?” Chifuyu playfully scolded (Y/N) after taking a gulp of his beer and bit into his chicken scallion skewer. “You’ve become quite the cold woman.”

“I literally just landed this morning and I’m jetlagged as hell,” she exhaustively huffed out laced with annoyance. The tips of her fingers rested on her temple rubbing in small circles. “Cut me some slack…”

“She does look like she’s ready to pass out any second,” Draken noted based on her pale complexion and eye bags. “We won’t keep you too long, but at least eat somethin’.” He loaded a few skewers on her plate, to which she quietly thanked him for. “Been a while since we hung out.”

“The agency loaded me with a bunch of jobs when my work made it on the most popular photo books list,” she elaborated and bit into her beef skewer. “I barely had time to breathe, let alone keep in touch.”

“Clearly,” Chifuyu pointed out. “After all we did for you…”

“No need to rub it in, ‘Fuyu,” she grimaced with a frown. “I know I’m a terrible human being for not texting you two and an even worse one for making my ex’s friends lie,” she admitted and rolled her eyes and inhaled the chicken skewer before sipping her beer.

“Why don’t you just talk with him?” the tall pony tailed boy advised. “So you both can get some closure…”

“I got my closure when I saw him with that other girl at his studio,” (Y/N) bitterly scoffed and gulped down the golden fizzy beverage. “Not to mention those flirty texts I accidentally glanced on his phone…”

“You still love him, don’t you?”

She quietly set her glass down, looking pensive and lightly sighed.

“Do you still love Emma-chan?” she questioned back with an unintentional bite, rendering Draken silent. Suddenly not feeling hungry any more, she reached into her bag and placed down a 5,000 yen bill from her wallet to cover part of dinner before standing. “And about Mitsuya… I’m just trying to heal a day at a time.”

Before opening the restaurant door, she turned back at her friends again.

“By the way, your disguises suck. I spotted you both a mile away.”

After getting a few days off to recover from jetlag, she woke up feeling refreshed for the first time in months. Having traveled nonstop from one city to another for work, it felt nice to wake up in her own bed for once and not in a hotel or AirBNB.

Seeing Chifuyu and Draken for the first time in three years was comforting. They changed, but it felt nothing did at the same time. She looked around her room with a towering of stacked empty cardboard boxes that need to be flattened and disposed of, with a few more still yet to be opened in another corner.

It took a while for her to feel settled; she just recently got used to sleeping alone again in a full sized bed.

Stretching her arms out with a muffled crack of her bones, she changed into a sports bra and loose joggers to do her workout routine. Throwing a YouTube video up on her laptop, she started with warm-ups before jumping into a 20 minute full body HIIT routine and then cooling down with stretches.

Even when in her teenage years, her half brother’s friend Jun drilled into her that morning workouts are important to keep the body loose and active, be it in fights or the day to day activities. It's helped her with endurance and stamina when shooting at remote locations that required climbing and lots of walking. While Japanese girls preferred to constantly diet to lose weight even though there’s nothing else to lose, (Y/N) preferred to maintain her physique with exercise. Beauty standards from fashion magazines be damned.

Hopping into the shower to wash away the sweat of her efforts, she emerged a short moment later in a fresh set of loose clothes to make breakfast, consisting of a cup of milk tea, fried eggs and toast. (Y/N) decided to start checking her phone for work messages mid-sip of her tea and frowned.

“Forty new emails after four days off… You gotta be shitting me,” she groaned and scanned each one with disinterest before perking up suddenly at a debut fall/winter photo shoot gig three days from now for an up and coming designer. No matter how long she’s been shooting, she’s always liked working with rising stars; they were so much easier to talk to with low egos. Sending a text to her coworker to let him know she’ll take the job, she set her phone down to finish the rest of her breakfast before unpacking the remaining personal effects.

It took a few months, but she was officially moved into her apartment in Edogawa. Not wanting to use Pah-chin’s agency out of fear of Peh-yan accidentally blurting out to Mitsuya they saw her, she asked around for other reputable agents to find her a place. It was small for a one bedroom, but less surface area for her to clean. Opening the last sealed box, she looked at the contents fondly; it was her photo albums. Taking one out, she thumbed through one that was given to her when she was last in Sendai from her deceased half-brother, Onuma Hisashi. She reached for another after setting the first one to the side; her eyes shifting to a bittersweet expression.

It was the album of Toman she put together. Pictures of their youth forever captured on a simple 4x6 sheet of film paper. She turned the page, revealing a photo of herself, Hina and Emma all smiles from when they were making chocolates for Valentine’s Day; another of the Toman captains getting obligatory chocolates from her, blushing madly. Smiley’s face, however, was much more elated than usual and held his bag of confectionery up over his head like it was an offering to him. The photo below that would forever remain one of her favourites: Emma giving Draken her share of chocolates in private, making the vice commander bashful. Unfortunately, certain idiots from the first and second division along with the commander peeking behind a tree in the background ruined the shot. Other shots in it were candids before and after meetings.

Her eyes scanned through the pages before reaching the last page. She immediately closed the album; it was of Mitsuya in his uniform standing with her in front of Impulse, embracing each other with wide smiles. Heaving a long sigh, she unpacked the remaining albums from the box, leaving two to the side to put away elsewhere.

Those were the memories she wasn’t ready to revisit yet.

–

After an hour’s train ride to Yoyogi, (Y/N) wiped the sweat from her forehead with her arm to catch her breath once they neared the photo shoot area in the park.

“How is it this warm already when it’s only May?” she huffed and fanned herself with her hand. Her sunglasses were slipping from her nose bridge due to the built up condensation.

“You know doing that only makes yourself hotter,” Ryota noted and dabbed himself off with a handkerchief. “I’m gonna go get us some cold drinks.”

“See, this is why I love you,” she grinned at her coworker.

Adjusting her equipment bags on her shoulders, she made her way to the site and greeted the crew setting up the lights and pitched tents for shade and areas. Moments later, a crew member announced the models’ arrival and exchanged greetings. For the industry, it was a standard handshake procedure; for her, it was a way to get to know them better through conversation so she could capture their personality along with the clothing. Having set up her work station, she got to testing the lighting with a light meter and did some scenery test shots while the models were in makeup and wardrobe.

“(Y L/N)-san, the designer’s here,” one of the crew members announced. “He said he wanted to meet you.”

Securing her camera on the tripod, she followed the member to greet them. Just as she got close enough, her feet immediately froze in place and breathed shallowly the moment she saw a familiar set of lilac streaks with black hair peeking underneath wearing a short sleeve collared navy blue jumpsuit.

“It’s been a while.”

The up and coming designer she was shooting for today was Mitsuya Takashi.

Shit. Why didn’t she ask who the designer was before saying yes, she thought and ostracized herself for this misstep.

Gathering herself, she took a breath to reset before walking up to him. This was a job she willingly took. Personal feelings had no room here.

“Eh? You two know each other?” the crew member asked with surprise.

“We went to the same middle and high school,” she replied with a neutral smile and faced him. “Thank you for requesting my services for today’s shoot,” she politely greeted with a bow. “I’ll do my best to highlight the charm points of your debut line, Mitsuya-san. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask any of the crew members.”

Before he could say anything back, she’d already turned to walk back to her work station to get ready. She knew they’d eventually meet, but not this soon after coming back from overseas. Letting out a defeated sigh, the best she could do was power through the gig and leave. The first model stepped onto the outdoor set, getting last minute fixes on her hair and makeup. At a glance, she wore a loosely fitted cashmere sweater with leather leggings and white stiletto ankle boots.

“If it gets too hot at any point, let me know and we can take a break, Yukari-san,” (Y/N) told the model.

“I think I’ll be fine. They stuck a bunch of cooling sheets on my back.”

“They treat the models better than me…” the photographer jokingly grumbled, making the model chuckle. (Y/N) then turned to her staff. “Someone get me a cooling sheet and stick it on my neck! I’m dying over here!”

“They’re for the models only!” Ryota heckled from the makeup tent. “Suffer for your art, Ms. Photographer.”

“You’re all terrible! This is abuse!” she bantered back, making everyone loudly cackle. “I’m letting the agency know ‘bout these horrid work conditions.”

After loosening up the crew, (Y/N) got to working her magic. Mitsuya watched from the wardrobe area to make sure the clothing fitted today’s models right while admiring her concentration. Having worked as a studio assistant part time in high school, he was with her the whole way as she struggled through the frustrations of her own style, failures in photo competitions and successes of her hard work. He remembered her saying her dream was to hold a solo photo exhibition one day, like the one they went to for their first date.

He’d heard from Draken her dream came true, but not in the form he expected. When “Wander” got released, he was one of the few who managed to get a copy of the limited print after searching for it at various book shops. Even though they weren’t together any more, he wanted to support her in whatever way he could.

However, he never once opened the book; he was too scared of what he’d see.

It sat on his studio shelf, collecting dust with the shrink wrap still on it. If he were to sell it now, he’d make a pretty penny off of it as it’s reached close to cult status. All he can do now is continue watching her from a distance with a look of longing. The walls she built around her heart felt impenetrable.

“So, Yukari-san. How’d you get into modeling?” the photographer asked and pressed down on the shutter button.

“I got scouted in Shibuya when I was out with my mom while in high school,” she answered and changed poses. “I thought it was super sketchy at first. You’ve heard those stories, right?”

“Those scouting scams were kinda crazy for a bit… One tried approaching me when I was around Shibuya. They were so annoying.”

“Eh?! How’d you respond?”

“I put on my best yakuza impression to scare them away,” she flatly replied. The truth was she threatened to break every bone in their body if they approached her or any high school girls in the area. Yukari belly laughed, trying not to cry as she snapped away with her camera.

“That’s so crazy, (Y/N)-san!” she said between her giggles. “I’d never be able to do that!”

“Anything’s possible if you have some guts,” she noted with a smirk. “So, what happened after you got scouted?”

“After my parents and I did some research, they came with me to the agency to negotiate my contract so I wouldn’t get exploited. Three years later, here we are.”

To get a better idea of the model’s thought process, she then shifted the conversation to Mitsuya’s clothing.

“This is a strange question to ask since it’s so hot out here…” (Y/N) began and wiped her under her eye from the sensation of sweat from using the viewer. “But what do you think and feel about what you’re wearing?”

“Hm…” Yukari thought for a beat as she took more shots of her from various angles. “The clothes feel very natural, like a comfortable embrace from a loved one.”

“That’s oddly specific.”

“Is it weird?”

“It’s… interesting,” the photographer replied with a thin smile and took a few more photos.

“It’s like…” the model searched her thoughts a little more with a look of wonder, as if she was listening to the faint whispers of each thread. “Every stitch on here was sewn on with the wearer in mind, like it was tailor made for you. You can feel the care and imprint of the designer.”

She let out a wondering hum, her mind briefly wandering back to whenever she hovered over Takashi while he drafted out some pieces. When she felt him getting frustrated, she’d just hug him from behind to help him decompress for a moment and reset himself.

“Sweaters?” she asked with her eyes looking over one of his sketches behind him, with him nodding. Her arms were loosely wrapped around his shoulders while her head rested on top of her left arm.

“Knitting these by hand’ll take a while,” he mulled over and rested his chin in his left palm. He let out a concerned grunt and pouted at the design.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to get cashmere fabric instead?”

“I thought about that, but I really want this to stand out…” He pointed to the cable and seed stitch patterns.

“Always a stickler for the little things…” she chuckled and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“The devil’s in the details.”

“I do love your sweaters,” she said with a toothy grin and pressed her lips to his neck. “They feel like your hugs.”

Shaking herself out of the thought, she wrapped up the session and took a break before the next model came out.

“Reset your head. Don’t think of anything unnecessary. It’ll show in the pictures.”

After a five hour photo shoot, they were able to wrap up around 8pm. Mitsuya searched frantically for (Y/N) around the park, feeling the day’s humidity stick to the clamminess of his skin and finally found her packing up her equipment nearby the wardrobe tent.

“H-Hey…” he huffed out and wiped the sweat forming on his head with his forearm. “There you are. Good work today.”

She slowly turned to meet those familiar lavender eyes she once loved looking into.

“You as well. Is there something you need, Mitsuya-san?” she asked in a neutral manner.

“We’re on a last name basis now?” he jabbed with a hint of pain in his voice.

“It’s work, after all,” she answered with a distant tone, her stare bordering on cold. “It’d be unprofessional of me to address you as anything else.”

He stood stiffly at the entrance of the tent as she continued to tend to her belongings, not knowing what to say. She felt like a complete stranger to him.

“W-What are you doing after this?” he mustered up the courage to ask. “Wanna grab a bite together?”

“I already have a previous engagement I need to get to,” (Y/N) briskly replied and threw her equipment bag over her shoulder. “I’ll be taking my leave now. Please get home safe.”

She politely bowed at him and walked out of the tent without sparing a second glance. Every step she took to walk away from him was like a painful pang in her heart.

This is fine. This was the choice I made for his happiness, she thought to herself.

Meeting up with Ryota not long after, they got on the train and headed to dinner at a curry house in Meguro.

“(Y/N)-chan, you’re terrible,” Ryota chided and sipped his beer. “He went through all that trouble to meet you n’ you turn him down without batting an eyelash.”

“Your point being?” she flatly replied and took a bite of her chicken katsu curry rice, annoying her work friend. “Were you expecting us to have a fairy tale tearful reunion as we dramatically run into each other’s embraces?”

“Yes.”

She dryly laughed with a light snort and sipped her beer after chewing.

“As much as you may deny it, it’s fate.” Her work friend pointed at her from across the table with his spoon in hand. “You two are meant to be together.”

(Y/N) bitterly scoffed and rolled her eyes. “We’re in a field where fashion designers cross our paths everyday. They help keep the agency’s lights on, our rent paid and stomachs filled. It’s not fate, it’s work,” she spoke after swallowing her food.

“My point is, he had his pick of photographers, but he chose you. You also didn’t tell me he was that hot!” he berated with a mocking tone of hurt. “You sure like to skim on the details.”

“He is your type, after all. And what does it matter anyway?” she shot back with her co-worker’s persistent prodding. “I’ll never see him again after this campaign’s over. He’ll have his name out there and a long list of people wanting to schmooze and bang him.”

“What makes you so sure of that?”

“Ryota, I’ve seen my share of small-time designers blow up overnight and they’ll suddenly forget the people who supported ‘em when they were starting out,” she pointed out with disappointment dripping over her words. “All the bright lights, high profile attention and superficial support make ‘em all forget. They only realize this after crashing and burning, riddled with debt; the veil of their now deflated ego lifted from their clouded vision.”

“So why do you still do fashion shoots then?”

“Maybe…” she thought for a moment and sighed through her nose. “Maybe I’m trying to find someone to prove me wrong.”

“You’re not as jaded I thought you were, (Y/N)-chan.”

“Do I come off that way?” she chuckled wryly and took another bite of food.

“I have a feeling Mitsuya-san’s gonna be the one to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Prove you wrong.”

–

“So I finally saw her today,” Mitsuya revealed and sipped his sake. “She was shooting my debut line.”

“You two talk?” Draken asked.

“I tried to…” he sighed and rested his elbows on the table. “But she gave me the cold shoulder. I could still feel the walls she put up on me.” He deeply frowned, still feeling the lingering tinge of pain in his chest.

“I’m sure she did it with you in mind,” Chifuyu reasoned. “Think about it: her exhibition’s a hot topic right now. What if someone walked by and eavesdropped on you two? It’d be a whole scandal.”

“I guess…” the lilac haired man pouted, fiddling with his ceramic sake cup before sipping it again. Part of him regretted not being insistent enough for her to talk to him. When did he become this pliant?

“Speakin’ of the exhibition,” Draken perked up. “Have you seen it yet?”

“No…” he trailed off and looked to the side apprehensively. “Can you summarize it for me?”

“Ain’t for us to do,” the dragon tattooed boy directly answered.

“You should go,” the pet shop owner encouraged. “She left a message for you.”

“What is it?”

“Not for us to say,” they both responded much to the designer’s annoyance.

“But y’know, Mitsuya…” Draken continued. “She’s still thinking ‘bout you.”

He bitterly scoffed. “Her attitude toward me today said otherwise.”

“It has been three years… Lots has happened to all of us,” Chifuyu sympathetically expressed.

“When she left…” Mitsuya uttered out. “She left me a note, saying I was happier with Eri-san than with her…”

“The social climber who cheated on you?” Draken unabashedly pointed out and bit into his piece of okonomiyaki, making his friend inwardly grimace.

“Were you though?” Chifuyu wondered.

“I think… I used her as a distraction from properly facing (Y/N),” he realized.

“So you ran away, just like her,” the tall tattooed man summarized. “Man, you two suck.”

“She left first, okay?” he corrected irritably. “I wanted to talk it out.”

“Do you still?” Draken asked Mitsuya.

“Of course!” he declared and downed the remaining spirit in his carafe. “I’m not gonna let her go again. Not this time.” He looked up with a determined look in his lavender orbs. “I’ll make it so she stays.”

Taglist: @mor-pheus @netzukochannn @moodyhuesworld2 @someone4414

[alreadyblondenow]

Never get to hold you | Lee Haechan

Lee Haechan x female!reader x Lee Jeno

▸ Fluff, smut, angst? Haechan is poor ▸ Part of To All the Members I’ve Loved Before: Dear 127, hosted by me ​

Summary: Growing up in a fucked up household, Haechan has always been thankful for his friend Jeno for treating him like his real brother. From giving him food, to letting him stay in their big house, to lending him money for school. Jeno has always been an angel. Until one day, Haechan found another angel, you. Finally his life is now brighter than ever… but not for long, because Jeno likes you too. Will Haechan let this once in a lifetime love slip and give you to his true friend who’s always been nice to him? Or will he be selfish?

Work count: 6k flat amazing

Warnings: Smut, toxic household, mentions of parents fighting, Haechan is poor here, if you are not okay with the idea please click away. Unprotected sex, couch sex, mentions of rough sex, overstimulating, Haechan smoked one cigarette, mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, mentions of Haechan’s sister, break up, slight cheating? but not really A/N: Pure fiction. Haechan’s character here is inspired by Justin Fooley from 13 reasons why. And the friendship is inspired by Bryce and Justin’s friendship. hehe. Originally this is a cheating au, but I’ve been writing a lot of cheating au so.... lets do the right thing for now. HAHA. also I did not include a lot of smut just because it doesn’t fit the story so i hope you understand that and still enjoy reading this. <3 

A peaceful night that’s what Haechan longs for. A night free from the screaming and shouting of his parents, the glass shattering and never-ending blaming. He turns the volume up of the song he’s listening to from his mp3 player, closed his eyes, and tried sleeping. It’s not calming or whatsoever but it’s better than hearing the bickering.

For Haechan, sleep does not fix anything but it sure does make him feel better once he wakes up and finally faces another fun day in school. Yes. That’s right, Haechan loves going to school for it makes him feel like he’s a normal person. Not everyone in school knew how fucked up his life is and that’s another thing why he loves going to school. School and his friends have been his escape.

“You’re coming tonight right?” Jeno sneaks from behind and swings an arm on his best friend.

“Of course I’ll be there. I have to drive your drunk ass home-“ Haechan jokes but he was soon interrupted by something so unfortunate.

His shoes gave up on him.

“I think I should go and get this fixed before class starts. Not again,” Haechan said, stopping to remove his worn-out shoes and check them further while Jeno watch him.

“I have my Balenciaga shoes in my locker I don’t use that anymore. If you don’t want to keep it or accept it, at least use it for the day,” Jeno smiles at his friend and pats his back. But before Haechan could even say no to his best friend, Jeno is long gone for the school bell rang already.

Every since Haechan is new in town, Jeno has been a good friend to him. Both very different boys but they are brothers by heart and got each other’s back. For Haechan, Jeno is an angel to which he almost feels bad for not giving something in return for all the things Jeno gave him. Not just material things but Jeno offers financial help to Haechan too, in fact, Jeno is the reason why Haechan’s mother got a job at a store Mrs. Lee owns.

So you see, being a loyal and true friend is the only thing Haechan can give in return for now.

After school, Haechan fixed his wretched shoes before going to his part-time job. There, while he looks over the convenience store, he does his homework on the side and makes sure that he studies in advance so he can get closer to the college and scholarship that he’s aiming for and finally get out of this hell hole.

“You like studying so much?”

A voice made him drop his pen and went to work immediately. Punching the cashier and putting the stuff you bought in a plastic bag with a shy smile. A shy smile that miraculously lights up your day, he’s like a sun you thought.

“College. You’re new here right? I saw you earlier with the student body president. I’ve been there, being new in town will get easier... with the right people” Haechan says.

“Well, I had a bad first day, but thank you.... Hyuck. It’s great to know that eventually, everything will get better ” you read his name tag and smiled so sweetly at him. Oh, you wish it’s not obvious that you’re flirting.

When you left you’re all he could think of. He can’t stop thinking about your smile, how it’s obvious that you’re flirting with him but he thinks you’re so cute rather than flirty, he even beats himself up for not asking your name and making you stay longer.

As he walks his way home under a quiet night and with nothing in his head but your smile, he replays his only memory of you in his head while smiling alone and looking like a complete idiot. But when he was just a few walks from his house, he hears the screaming and shouting again.

He ran towards the door and straight to his sister’s room, not giving a fuck about why his parents are fighting. He hugs his little sister who’s in tears and basically shaking from fear, keeping her close to him to let her know that he is here now. And this is the sadness and reality he had to face every day.

“You scared?” He whispers but his face shows no fear to show his sister that his big brother is ready to protect her.

“Where were you?” She whines and snuggles to her brother more.

“I was at work, sorry. You know something wonderful happened to me today,” Haechan ready himself to tell his sister how you two met for the first time. She has always loved Hyuck’s stories and she’s always interested in the people his brother is friends with, especially Jeno.

“Well, why didn’t you ask her name? Will you see her again?” She asks eagerly. “I want more stories about her, she sounds sweet even though your conversation was too short”

“Yeah I know. Maybe I can talk to her by Monday and tell her, ‘hey my little sister wants us to be friends’” he jokes.

And so the night went on, exchanging stories with his sister until his parents stopped fighting and eventually his sister fell asleep in his arms. To be honest,  he didn’t want to leave his sister alone after what happened tonight, but he promised Jeno that he will be there so he needs to be there.

Going to Jeno’s birthday celebration in a bar downtown is the last thing he wants to do after having a hard night. The bar was loud, packed, and it’s giving him a headache. So he promised himself that he will stay here for half an hour only, which did not happen because his heart feels heavy.

So he went out to have a cigarette and to clear his mind, having a debate with his conscience whether he’s going back in or not.

“The answer is no,” you said from behind which made him turn immediately and face you. “I’m watching you for a few minutes already and your feet is obviously hesitating to go back inside”

“It’s that obvious? Am I really that easy to read?” he takes one final hit from his cigarette before he throws it away. You nod with a smile to answer his question. It’s obvious that you’re happy to see each other again. “Why aren’t you inside? It’s cold out here,” he would give you his jacket if only he’s wearing one right now but he’s not.

“Everyone is loud inside and I feel like I’ve had enough of the screaming and overflowing booze, you know?” You answered awkwardly. Little did you know that Haechan feels the exact same thing. “But I should probably go and not ruin the silence here too so-“

“I can’t stop thinking about you” Haechan finally blurted out. He didn’t mean to but those are the words that came out from his mouth the moment he saw you turn and was about to walk away. “I don’t even know your name but my sister thinks your cool” he added, trying to sound fun and interesting. Heck, he’s trying to make you stay.

And it's working.

“You have a sister and you told her about me?” Haechan nods with a shy smile, “Well what did you tell her?” You asked with a flirty tone.

“I told her that I’ve never seen a smile so beautiful and that I feel stupid for not asking your name” he shamelessly flirts and came closer to you, making your heart beat faster and making you really nervous.

“Take me some somewhere quiet and I’ll tell you my name” you flirted back.

And without any second thoughts, he brought you to a place where you two can laugh out loud freely, and there's no loud music to bother the moment. You introduced yourself and all he did was giggle and tell you that his little sister will be happy about this. Haechan made you laugh nonstop, telling you the happy memories he holds dear and even small parts about his life, without fooling you and making you think that he’s someone else.

Now that he gets the chance to talk to you again, he wanted to embrace you while he pours all his honesty to you and hopes that you don’t mind liking someone fucked up like him. But Haechan thought that telling you that he’s poor as a rat on your first night together is not something worth staying for, so he shrugged it off and continue asking more about you.

Until you both lost track of time and he offered to walk you home, which you think it’s sweet.

“Do you want to have some water first, before you go? It’s a long way back. M-my parents are not home so no need to be shy,” you offered with a hint of other intentions that he surely understood. And thankfully he accepted.

The moment you closed the door, he stopped you from opening the lights, his hands are on your face and your lips touched immediately. Returning the kiss without hesitation, heads turning continuously and both tongues are wanting for something more.

You motion him to the couch and push him until he falls on the cushions and let out a quiet giggle. It was a pity that you wouldn’t see his bright smile. “You okay with this?” he slips his hand inside your shirt and smoothly removed it.

“More than okay,” you said and started to undo his belt and remove his pants. Soon, you’re both wearing only your underwear while grinding on top of each other. Shy to make a move but your kisses and moans say otherwise. You’re the one who initiates it this time, unclasping your bra and making him knead and cup your boobs shamelessly.

“Do I need a condom?” he asks, removing his boxers brief, throwing it on the floor, and immediately slipped his hand inside your panties while you’re on top of him kissing him like there’s no tomorrow.

You moaned softly when his fingers made contact with your very wet slit and told him, “No. But pull out?” he nods and told you he will. And because of that assurance, you finally removed your panties and went on top of him.

“It’s hard to pull out if you’re going to be on top, maybe next time?” He says and effortlessly switched your positions, putting him on top of you. He pulls away for a second and pumped his cock in between your opened legs, came in closer to kiss you before he pushes his in.

His kisses were gentle and sweet like he’s not about you fuck you in the next few seconds. But when he finally lined his cock and slowly thrust in, both of you moaned and forgot that you were kissing for a second. Sharp gasps escaped your mouth while delicious groans escaped from his. Slowly he takes his time pushing in and out without thrusting all the way, which surely builds the momentum and it definitely made you want more of him.

“I’ll go deeper” thankfully he noticed and pushed in finally. Thrusting a little bit quicker than earlier while his fingers are busy drawing circles on your clit.

Soon, you’re both on edge. Too shy to admit it but you can’t stop clenching and unclenching around him, “Stop doing that,” he says and kissed your neck, bitting the shell of your ear to hear you giggle while he makes you moan deliciously.

He came first as expected because you can’t stop moaning behind his ears and making him feel good with your tight walls. He shoots his cum on your stomach, away from your pussy while his other hand is continuously drawing fast circles and making you cum in no time.

You shivered like crazy and tried closing your legs but Haechan got a hold of it and overstimulated you.

“Wild-brutal, that’s you” you said while you continue to shiver, curl yourself in a ball and beg him to stop.

He kisses your body, avoiding his cum but still managed to suck your nipples good as you come down from your high. When you’re finally calm, you reached for the tissue on the coffee table to wipe yourself clean but he snatched the tissue from your hand and did it himself. After that, you moved your body and make room on the small couch so he can lie beside you, using his arms as your pillow, keeping you close to his sweaty body.

“You’re the second girl I kept in my arms tonight,” he says softly. Looking into your eyes directly. You know that it's his sister and it made you smile and planted a kiss on his lips.

“Can you keep it that way then?” you said, softly like how he spoke. He nods and tightens his hug.

“To be honest I feel like I’m a slut right now because I slept with you first... on my first day of school, my first day of meeting you-“

“Sssh. You think too much. You’re not a slut. I like you, you like me. It’s a normal reaction” he kisses your lips and your cheeks one too many times to make you giggle and eventually let go of your thoughts. “I have to go back to my friends” he added.

“What- No, stay, please. My parents wouldn’t mind” you begged but he shook his head and got up from his comfort.

“I’ll find you again”

“Well give me your phone” you said, eager to make him stay. Eager to stay in his life.

“I don’t have one because I can’t afford one” Haechan was shy to tell you the truth but he didn’t want to lie to you. But of course, you understand him instead of prying. You sat up, kissed him sweetly and told him,

“It’s fine. You know where I live, so we're going to do this old school then” you giggle and make the most of the few minutes you have with him. He reached for your panties and helped you wear them together with your shirt, leaving a soft kiss on your lower abdomen.

“Is that fine? Going old school?” He asks smiling and asking for another kiss.

“More than fine, that means I get to see you always” he giggled and told you that’s right and continued wearing the rest of his clothes.

The next day, Haechan woke up with a smile on his face by just merely thinking about you and thinking of going to your house tonight and surprise you after he hangs out with Jeno at the amusement park.

As his day went on with his best friend, all he thinks about is you. Did you eat already, how was your sleep, do you think of him, and what are you doing now? These are questions that he wanted to ask you because he misses you already, but also, these are the questions that attracted the universe into putting you both in the same place.

Just a few minutes ago, Haechan is thinking about you but now you’re right in front of him... with a blindfold at The Kissing Booth and about to kiss Jeno.... Jeno of all people.

There, Haechan stood and watch you and Jeno kiss in front of the audience. Watching your friends take a video and giggle as much as they want because you have no idea who you’re kissing right now. Oh they would kill to be in your position and taste Jeno’s lips. While you... you think about the gentleman who made you laugh over and over again last night, the gentleman who’s honest about everything, and the gentleman who made you feel good on your family couch last night.

And when you removed your blindfold, you can’t help but feel disappointed. It’s not Haechan you’re kissing, he hasn’t found you again.

When Jeno came closer and attempted to kiss you again, you pushed him away in front of many people, smiled and whispered, “We had our fun already, I think that’s enough. Sorry, I was hoping you’d be someone else” and came down from the stage to join your friends.

The disappointment in Jeno’s face was evident. He felt like he violated you or something and wanted to apologize further but you didn’t give him a chance. He saw Haechan standing in the corner with a soda in his hand and joined him, “That was something. I feel like I was taken to another dimension while I was kissing her. Damn I like her already” Jeno admits, having no clue that Haechan knows exactly what he’s talking about.

“Hey.... Haechan” you taped his shoulder which made him and Jeno turn around. You didn’t want to be bold and flirty with him in front of his friend so you just said hey.

Jeno was shocked to the core when you approached his friend and not him, and he was even more shocked to see you smile so sweetly at Haechan. “You know each other?” he asks you both nervously.

“Yes”

“No”

“N-no. Not really. Dude, everyone knows her. New girl in town plus she came by the store during my shift yesterday after school” Haechan explains. Completely denying that you two shared something special the other night.

Good thing Jeno believed and accepted Haechan’s explanation, so this time he didn’t waste any more time and shoot his shot. “I want to apologize to you. Can we go for a walk? Alone together-“

“Good idea man. I think I should go. I have a shift at the store, s-see you at school. B-both of you,” he says and awkwardly walks out and left you with Jeno.

You wanted to follow him, you would rather want to watch him work at the store than be with Jeno and waste your time strolling around the park, you’ve been wanting to be with him ever since you opened your eyes this morning and now you can’t believe that he denied you in front of his friend.

The whole time he was walking in circles around his neighborhood, Haechan can’t stop thinking about you and Jeno. Even hating the universe more for making him and Jeno like the same girl. Fuck, he murmured frustratingly until he came to a thought that maybe life brought you to Haechan’s life so he could finally give something back to his best friend.

Maybe he’s doing the right thing by letting you and Jeno get to know each other.

“You’re a fool,” his sister teases him while he watches her brush her teeth. Haechan just snorted and let out a small laugh knowing that his little sister is smart and that she’s growing up wise.

“But when you grow old you can’t just commit to something or someone if you know to yourself that you can’t. Be honest,” he kisses her sister good night and tucked her to bed. Wishing for her sister to grow up strong and smart, and not like him.

///

After a few weeks of seeing Jeno and going out on dates with him, you force yourself to think that what happened between you and Haechan is just a one time thing. That you were just horny teenagers that night who both had a bad day that’s why you thought it was something special.

It’s not that you’re using Jeno to forget Haechan, but Jeno is the one making his moves and trying so hard to impress you. He’s almost as nice as Haechan you thought. Maybe that’s why they’re best friends, and maybe that’s why now you look forward to seeing Jeno every day because you see Haechan in him.

Until one night, you and Jeno had a rather hot night that leads you two to his bed. Sex with Jeno is rough and fast and to be honest you forgot how many condoms he used because the sex was that good. And in that very moment, you realized that the only difference between Jeno and Haechan is the way they fuck. Jeno made you forget Haechan whenever you two are in bed and that made you want Jeno to fuck you more each day.

But Jeno is a natural sweetheart, a lover boy who shows you that he is a great man and a good person. “I know we fuck too much and it's obvious that something is bothering you” he says, hugging you closely while you’re on top of him after a very good car sex. “You can tell me, you know?” he added but you just shook your head no. “Okay okay, I understand. I love you. Whatever you’re going through or whatever that’s bothering you, continue to lean on me. Use me if you must,”

And right then and there, you decided to return the love Jeno is giving you.

It was not easy but it was worth it. Jeno loved you so much, more than you could ever imagine. You spend your senior year together, made memories each day, have good sex after school or during weekends, be the life of the party together, and meet each other’s family.

“Are you happy with me?” he whispers behind your ear while he hugs you from behind.

“What kind of question is that?” you said, turning around to meet his eyes and rake his hair away from his face. Not giving a fuck about the people watching you two flirt in the middle of a crowded place with drunk teenagers.

“Just a question. My way of checking if I’m still a good boyfriend” he admitted shyly. You rolled your eyes and came closer to him, planting a soft kiss on his lips which soon became heated and his hands roamed freely around your body.

“Mhmm. I'm happy, I love you” you whisper and you mean it.

“I love you too” he smiles and continues the kiss.

And while you two are in your own private world minding your business, Haechan watches from afar with a beer in his hand. Jealous, but not mad. Happy, but for you and his best friend. You deserve each other, he thought.

So as you and Jeno make your relationship strong and pour all your love on each other, Haechan became even more hardworking, focused more on his studies, and looking for more jobs to save more money. It was his way of forgetting you.

During a party that Jeno threw in his house, everything was intensely wild and everyone got drunk during the party, except Haechan because he was late due to his shift from one of his part-time job.

He saw you laughing with your friends near the poolside. You look beautiful tonight, as always. And at the same time, you look drunk already and all he wanted to do is take care of you but that’s not his job.

“Great that you’re here man, ugh. I’m so drunk” Jeno whines, almost about to throw but he’s still in control. “Here. Promised her dad I’d bring her home, but obviously, I can’t now. I can’t drive while I’m like this, knowing that she’s in the car with me. Too risky. Please dude, thank you”

And just like that, the responsibility and the power to take care of you is passed unto him.

“Baby, Haechan will bring you home- I can’t drive” Jeno admitted to you. Giving you his jacket before he walks you towards his car.

“W-what? Let me stay then, I’ll take care of you. Then you can drive me home when you’re sober” you said but your boyfriend said no and told you you’re as drunk as him. So you didn’t have a choice but to go inside the car with Haechan. He watched you two kiss goodbye and say your I love yous with each other before he drives away and takes you home.

The drive was silent. You didn’t dare to open your mouth and ask how he’s been, he didn’t dare to open his mouth and tell you that you’re beautiful. And it stayed like this until he reaches your house and parked in front of it.

“Do you remember the night that you walked me home?” you started, and you think it’s the alcohol that's talking. Haechan just nods and lets out a heavy sigh. “I wish it never happened. I wish I didn’t flirt back then and went back inside that bar instead of asking you to take me somewhere quiet” you admitted, feeling your heart break but you can finally breathe better now that you told him what you really feel. But deep inside you didn’t mean it. You’re just saying that because you’re still mad at him for denying you.

He unbuckles his seatbelt and reached for you, shamelessly hugging you, and placed a sweet kiss on your temple. You feel his tears and that made you hug him back. Staining his shirt with your tears that you kept for months.

“I’m sorry. I can’t give you what Jeno can give you. My life is a mess, I’m a trash and you deserve someone better. Someone who can take care of you, I can’t” he hugged you a little bit tighter to let you know that he’s sincere. And after a few minutes of silence, he explained his part to you and you listened attentively not because he owes you an explanation but because you miss his voice.

“When I was new here, bullies just won't stop teasing me, then Jeno became my friend and suddenly they all stopped. Jeno didn’t mind if I’m poor, he just wanted a brother and found it in me. That’s why whenever I’m in need he’s always to the rescue, my books, my mother’s job, this Rolex watch that I only use whenever I need it at work. I remember he gave this to me because he didn’t want to give me cash because he was afraid that will make me feel small. So instead he gave me this watch and expected me to pawn it. But I can’t because it’s like a token of our friendship”

“I get it. Bro code” you said calmly and watch him nod. “But who are you to tell me who to love. My heart still belongs to you when Jeno was courting me, I think about you when he kisses me-“

“Do you still feel the same way?” he blurted out, looking at your lips and thinking of kissing it one last time before you have your closure. But he won't.

“I love Jeno but you still have this great effect on me, you still have my heart” you admitted.

“I’m sure you understand me now. Why I don’t want to hurt my friend” you nod because you do understand him, you don’t want to hurt your boyfriend either, “He’s an angel” Haechan added.

When Haechan left and drove away, you feel like he took your heart away with him. Like that one specific night you had sex with him and you didn’t want him to go. You know what you said. You don’t want to hurt Jeno and you do love him, but what can you do? Your heart still belongs to Haechan.

After that understanding with Haechan, you suddenly became cold towards Jeno and all you could think about is Haechan. Obviously, Jeno can see right through you. He knows you, whenever something troubles you, you will keep it to yourself and you won’t tell it to him. So he made a way to cheer you up, but it ended up annoying you.

He invited you to his house to have a sleepover and movie night with him. The thing is, Jeno knew you love having sex with him so the moment you two are alone in his room with all the lights off and only his big flat-screen TV is on, he tried putting you in the mood and became way too touchy.

“Stop” you whine as Jeno starts kissing your neck while his hands roam free around your body. It feels good you can’t lie, but you’re not in the mood so you pushed him a little too hard which made him even more frustrated.

“What did I do wrong? I wish you could open up to me more, Y/n” he gets up from his bed and gave you space. “You’ve been like that for days and days already, I don’t know if I did something wrong. Baby, just tell me. I’ll fix it,”

And there it is. Your very reason why you loved him “Why do you have to be so nice?” you murmur and sat beside him. You knew that this isn’t the right time to tell him about Haechan, but he asked what's bothering you so you’re going to tell him the truth and do the right thing. Bravely, you told him every inch of your feelings, the truth about you and Haechan, and hopes that he will not get mad at you or his friend.

He listened. While Holding your hand. Close to tears but he won’t cry in front of you. Not yet. But now that he knows the truth about you and his best friend, he felt like he stole you from him.

“Don’t be mad at him, he just feels obligated to give back to all the kindness you have done to him and his family” you wait for his reaction. You expect him to get mad or throw a fit but all he did was kiss your knuckles, hold them tightly, and kept you close while he can.

“So what now? Do you need time? Space even? It hurts like hell, I must admit but I can’t force you to stay” he says, with tears in his eyes and trying so hard to look strong.

“I need space from the both of you, choosing is not easy. I don’t want to hurt you in the future Jeno” you said.

“I can’t force you to stay, but I can beg right? I love you-“ He cups your face and leaves too many kisses on your lips, saying he loves you over and over again, begging you to please choose him.

“I’m sorry Jeno, please don’t beg. You don’t deserve this,” you made him stop begging and pull him into a tight hug. Inviting him to come to bed with you and savor this night together while you can because, on the next day, you will leave him.  

///

When you broke up with Jeno and focused all your energy on school, you walk almost every day from school to your house just so you can sort out your thoughts.

Jeno stopped begging you to come back after a few months and got himself a new girlfriend while Haechan… well, he’s doing his best with avoiding you. Still, breaking up with Jeno is a wise decision because now it’s clear that you don’t love him like how you love and long for Haechan.

“Fuck” you curse at the rain for pouring out of nowhere and you have no choice but to enter the store that Haechan is looking after. Just like the rain, you came out of nowhere and shock him. But shocking him and ruining his peace was not your intention, you’re just waiting for the rain to stop so you can go and walk again.

Shivering because of the store’s air conditioning, you hug yourself to keep yourself warm in every way you can but it’s not enough. You tried going out again but the rain kept pouring and it started to rain hard again when you tried and open the door. But then you heard the sound of the air conditioning being turned off, and Haechan is behind you holding the remote and some extra clothes.

“You’ll get sick if you stay wet. Here-“ he awkwardly hands you an extra shirt and his hoodie, “You can change back there. There’s no one else in this store except me,” he says and points at the door for the staff room. Of course you accepted his offer and you’re happy that he still cares.

When you got back, you saw him preparing you a hot drink and made you sit on one of the vacant chairs. “How are you?” he asks, stirring the drink and puts it in front of you carefully.

“I’ve been well, thank you for asking. How about you? How's your sister?”

“I’m doing good too. And my sister is fine”

And after that, an awkward silence made you both giggle and feel shy about being alone in this cold store. But not for long. Haechan initiated the conversation and made small talk with you. If he’s being honest right now, he doesn’t want you to shut up. He wanted you to talk and talk freely without being shy… like that first night you spend together.

When the rain stopped, he walked you home again and you both enjoyed the cool breeze and wet street. Admiring the calmness that the rain brought. “Why did you avoid me? After me and Jeno broke up?” you asked calmly.

“I know we learned the hard way and we’ve been through some stuff” he came closer and put strands of your hair behind your ear, “I’ve been helping myself to be better for you so this time I won’t fuck us up, and I wasn’t avoiding you. I’m giving you time to heal” he smiles and looked into your eyes deeply.

“Can we start again?” he finally blurted out. “This is my final attempt on keeping you, and… I just want to fight for you this time”

The rain was a blessing after all. You don’t know if the rain was a sign of starting over again but you’re glad that you decided to walk today and got soaked in the rain and did not have a choice but to enter that convenience store. But you’re happy that the rain brought you back together, so you hugged him tightly as your answer and warned him with all your might.

“If I wake up tomorrow and you deny me again, I swear Lee Haechan-“

And just like that, he cuts you off with a kiss, an act of promise so you won’t need to worry for the next day. “My sister will kill me if I let go of you again” he giggles and continue kissing you.

Who would have thought that you need only the rain for you and Haechan to get back together? Because after that night, he kept his promise to you. He never left your side and you never left his. Life wasn’t easy for him still, but you made sure you stayed with him through thick and thin.

Even though Haechan can’t bring you to expensive dates or movie dates, being with him while he’s working at the convenience store is more than enough for you. “I love my job. I can earn money while having a study date with you in this cold store” he says, kissing your temple while you’re busy reading and studying beside him.

Your remaining high school days were full of him and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

After graduation, you and Haechan planned on living together even though you’re both going to different schools, thankfully your schools aren’t that far from each other. Living together is not easy, your parents warned you. But Haechan made it easy for you because he loves you so much. Nonetheless, you would still choose a hard life with and just so you could be together the moment you open your eyes in the morning until you close them to end your day at night.

“It's you and me from now on, Y/n” he whispers beside your ear, hugging you from behind so tightly like you’re going somewhere and finally kiss you good night.

MAIN MASTERLIST FAQ / WIPS / CALENDAR ABOUT B

To this blog’s audience, please do not steal my works save yourself from the shame. Do not translate my works, they’re not worthy. Also if you see someone who stole my work, kindly reach out to me.

[ragingbookdragon]

More Heart-Racing Than Hurricanes

Vasco x De Sardet

Word Count: 2.2K Warnings: Explicit Language, Mature Themes, Drinking

Author’s Note: Who else got pissed that we didn’t get a group celebration or anything in the game? Just me? Oh well. Enjoy! -Thorne

           He’d never seen De Sardet intoxicated, not on the Seahorse when they were crossing, nor at the massive party they had when they’d arrived on Teer Fradee. Hell, even when they’d gone to the taverns and ordered a few rounds, the Legate managed to keep up with Kurt, and still retain enough capability to have a sober conversation with Petrus about court politics. De Sardet could apparently hold his liquor with the best of ‘em, and Vasco was determined to see just what the man’s limit was. Question was, how was he going to do it? Luckily enough, Vasco gaining Cabral’s loyalty back was the perfect opportunity to invite everyone out for drinks.

***

           “Cheers!” De Sardet beamed, raising his whiskey glass. “To our very own Captain Vasco! A good man, a damned good sailor, and now more Naut than ever!”

           The said captain couldn’t help the bubbling in his chest as the group raised their tankards and wine glasses, all directing grins and congratulations his way. Especially De Sardet. The twinkle in the Legate’s eyes made Vasco’s heart beat a little faster every time he remembered just how close they’d been getting.

           Vasco pulled his tricorn down a bit to hide the slight embarrassment he felt and smiled at them. “Thank you. All of you.” He glanced at De Sardet and gave him a bashful grin. “Especially you, De Sardet. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without your help.”

           The man let out a snort as he set his whiskey glass down. “Sure you could’ve.” He uncorked the alcohol and poured another round for himself and Kurt. “Not as stylishly though.”

           “You just can’t help but pat yourself on the back every chance you get, huh De Sardet?” Vasco teased and the Legate shrugged, looping an arm around Kurt’s shoulders.

           “Well, my dearest Master-At-Arms stopped flattering me the second day he met me, so I have to do it myself.” De Sardet gestured to himself before knocking back the burning liquid. “Someone’s gotta appreciate all this, and none of you are doing it.”

           Aphra huffed a laugh, readjusting her seating so she could place her boots on the table—an action that made Petrus frown.

           “That’s because your head’s already too big, De Sardet. Any bigger and it’s liable to explode,” she ribbed, all of them breaking into laughter when the man placed a hand to his chest in mock hurt.

           “Me? Have a big head? Oh, perish the thought! I’m as humble as humble pie.”

           “More like pretentious pie, Green Blood,” Kurt cracked, chuckling when he pouted.

           De Sardet groaned and leaned over, all but collapsing onto Vasco and whined, “Do you see how our loving friends treat me, Vasco? Like I’m a prickly cactus they don’t want to be around,” he bemoaned and the Naut merely gazed in amusement at him.

           “Well,” Vasco drawled out. “You’ve certainly got the prick part right.”

           At that, De Sardet sat up straight, jaw dropped as pure, unbridled shock spread across his face. The table exploded around them, and even Vasco was practically giggling.

           “I can’t believe that you’ve thrown your lot in with them!” De Sardet exclaimed, the wooden seat beneath him scratching the cobblestone floor as he stood up. “Bartender!” he yelled. “I need a bottle of brandy! My companions have left me a ruined man!”

           De Sardet swiped the bottle from the counter, replacing it just as quickly with a pouchful of clinking, golden coins. “I’m now going to drink my sorrows away. If I don’t make it back to the bar, assume I’ve achieved my plans and lay two tokens upon mine eyes for the ferryman.”

           The bartender rolled his eyes, but a laugh escaped him all the same, and when the Legate slunk back into his seat, Petrus said, “All the same, still a remarkable young man, child.” His eyes took on a humorous tone as he quipped, “But you’ve grown into quite the dramatics in that time.”

           Moaning, De Sardet uncorked the bottle and took a swig. “Tonight, is supposed to be the celebration of Vasco’s completion of earning Cabral’s loyalty back.” He sent a rather withering glare at the group, though his voice held no heat. “So why have we decided to turn this into a ‘Let’s see who can tear De Sardet a new one’ competition?”

           They broke into laughter once more and De Sardet passed Vasco the bottle. The Naut reached out to took it, fingers brushing against the Legate’s, and he fought hard to ignore how his heart skipped a beat. But when De Sardet didn’t let go of the bottle, Vasco arched an eyebrow at him.

           “Congratulations Vasco,” De Sardet murmured, eyes narrowing fondly, a twinge of sadness in them as well. “I’m really proud of what you’ve accomplished.”

           Vasco gave him a tight smile, hoping the tension wasn’t on his face. “Thank you De Sardet. It means a lot.”

           He merely winked in return, letting the bottle go to watch the captain take his own swig. After the third, De Sardet reached over and snatched it back.

           “Alright, that’s my bottle. Go get your own to drown your sorrows in,” he griped, nursing the bottle to his chest. Vasco simply huffed and took the bottle of whiskey beside him.

***

           Three hours of nonstop drinking and eventual drunken carousing eventually meant that the group had to leave. Which in their defense, Kurt wouldn’t stop getting into bitchfits with other mercenaries—of course it wasn’t necessarily over Kurt’s ability, there was no question about that, more so it was over his job as a so called, ‘glorified babysitter’. After the fifth knockout, the bartender made them leave.

           Petrus seemed to be the only one who wasn’t absolutely hammered and offered to see both Aphra and Síora off safely to their rooms and Kurt mentioned something about checking in with Manfred. Which left Vasco and De Sardet, who was neither drunk nor seemed to be in any form other than his normal one.

           They took a leisurely pace back towards the residence, a calming quietness between them. Of course, Vasco was irked with himself as he’d not been able to make De Sardet drink enough to see the man buzzed. He really seemed to have no limit when it came to alcohol consumption. Perhaps he’d try the undiluted liquor the Nauts made. Maybe that would actually do something? Maybe it would—

           “Are you constipated or something?”

           The question was so out of the blue that Vasco completely halted in his steps, craning his neck to look up at the Legate next to him who wore a curious expression.

           “I—beg your pardon?” Vasco puzzled and De Sardet nodded at him.

           “Your face.”

           “What about my face?” the Naut muttered, unconsciously brushing against the new tattoos he’d received the day or so before.

           “You’re making the same face that you did when I called your vessel a boat.” He made the said face and De Sardet grinned, waggling a finger at him. “Yeah, that one right there. I was wondering if you were constipated because you look upset.”

           Vasco blinked at him, simply staring for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “I don’t even know where to start on that, De Sardet.”

           “Well, I mean I’d go for a yes or a no on the constipa—”

           “I’m not constipated!” Vasco snapped, feeling flustered when the Legate smirked at him.

           “Oh? So, you’re upset about something then?” He knocked his shoulder against Vasco’s. “Wanna talk about it?”

           They started on their way again, coming down the stairs that led into the main square.

           “It’s not that I’m upset,” Vasco murmured. “It’s just…”

           De Sardet stopped. “It’s just?”

           To hell with it. “Do you ever get drunk, De Sardet? Because I watched you put enough liquor away to make even the most seasoned drinker look like a beginner.”

           The Legate’s face pulled in confusion and he questioned, “Wait. You’re telling me the reason you look upset is because you can’t figure out why I’m not drunk? Really?”

           Vasco’s neck sunk into his shoulder sand he muttered, “Well when you put it that way, it seems foolish.”

           “Hardly,” De Sardet chuckled, making his way up the wooden ramp of the statue to sit against the base. Vasco followed, stopping just in front of him.

           “I won’t say it takes much to get me drunk,” he admitted, making the Naut scoff in disbelief.

           “You’re joking. I watched you down two bottles of straight brandy and whiskey, and then more than a few tankards with Kurt. If that’s not much, I don’t know what is.”

           De Sardet waved him down and Vasco sat next to him, their shoulders brushing together.

           “Honestly, as a magic user, it’s quite hard for me to actually get intoxicated,” he explained, then held up a finger. “Now, if I were to drink undiluted alcohol, that might be another story.”

           His wrist and hand shimmered with a flow of black and silvery magic, and Vasco could feel the pulsing through his own body.

           “Truth be told, I don’t actually allow myself to become intoxicated outside of my own home.”

           “Why not?” Vasco asked, genuinely intrigued.

           De Sardet turned his face to the Naut and replied, “There are threats everywhere, especially at night. Never know when those threats might come at you after a night of drinking.”

           He reclined his head, eyes cast up to the stars. “I choose to be the one who remains sober so that I can stop a problem before it happens.” He tipped his head slightly. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to any of you because I wasn’t of a mind to protect you all.”

           Suddenly Vasco felt a bit foolish and he looked at his hands to avoid looking at De Sardet.

           “Oh,” he simply murmured. “And here I thought that you were just impervious to alcohol.”

           De Sardet chuckled lowly, turning his eyes back to Vasco. “Is that why you kept pushing drinks at me? Hoping that you’d see me in rare form?”

           “Aye,” the Naut admitted and the Legate shrugged.

           “I guess I could’ve let go for the night, but old habits are hard.”

           Vasco turned his head, now facing De Sardet. “What are you like when you’re drunk?”

           “Pfft,” he snorted. “Obnoxious and flirtatious.”

           “Oh ho? So just like when you’re sober?”

           De Sardet cocked a brow, looking rather amused with himself. “I’m going to outright ignore the agreement of being obnoxious in favor of the latter.” He placed his elbow on the base of the statue and leaned forward, enough that they were almost nose to nose.

           “You think I’m flirtatious?” he purred and if there was ever a face of exasperation come alive, it was on Vasco’s face.

           “Me and everyone who’s ever met you.”

           “Ouch,” De Sardet grinned. “And here I thought you liked my flirtations.”

           “I never said I didn’t,” Vasco countered coolly, despite the fluttering in his chest.

           One of the Legate’s finger’s twitched, brushing a piece of stray hair from the Naut’s face. “Something tells me that you like being in the middle of storms, Vasco.”

           “Depends on the type.”

           “Hmm…I’m thinking something much more heart racing than hurricanes.”

           Vasco’s arched a brow, though a smile tugged at his lips. “Oh? And what could possibly be more heart racing than twenty-foot waves crashing into the deck of your ship? Death at every turn, certain with even one misstep? Is there something more exhilarating than that?”

           De Sardet hand shifted, gently, but firmly taking Vasco’s chin in his hand. He smirked when the Naut’s breath caught. His thumb traced along the raised lines along Vasco’s skin.

           “I can think of a few things,” he purred. “Though if we tried them here, we’d get in a great deal of trouble.” Brushing against the bottom of the Naut’s lip, he hinted, “Perhaps we should try them some place where we’ve more privacy?”

           Vasco’s tongue felt so heavy and like he’d swallowed cotton, he swallowed thickly, stuttering, “I—I—”

           Nothing seemed to come out and as tongue-tied as he was, he knew he wouldn’t manage anything either.

           Which is why when De Sardet’s face shifted into a look of seriousness and his hand started to shift, Vasco’s own reached up, catching it in a firm grasp.

           “I’m not saying no,” he blurted out. “I just—” Vasco took a deep breath. “I’m buzzed myself. And if we do this, I don’t want to be—I want to remember the night,” he finally decided and De Sardet nodded.

           “I understand,” he smiled before taking a deep breath. “That being said, I do think it’s high time we both found our way to our respective bedrooms.” De Sardet clambered to his feet, extending a hand to Vasco, who took it. “We do have a long day tomorrow.”

           “God De Sardet,” Vasco started. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to march us halfway across the island.”

           De Sardet chuckled. “Not halfway.”

           “Thank God. I was afraid I’d be hungover—”

           “Just a quarter.”

           “Oh, fuck you.”

           “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Vasco?”

           “You are incorrigible. Incorrigible and terrible.”

           “Thanks!”

[songfell-ut]

Chapter 11 is a doozy

This one ends with what I thiiink may be the first scene I envisioned. Probably need an “angst” tag on there, but I still dun really know how the tags work. Are they a good thing to cram in, @lostmypotatoes? 

Link is here. I’m going to bed

The child lay face down in the flower bed, too stunned to cry. When she lifted her head, the world spun in circles; when she tried to get up, her leg hurt so much that she gasped. She sniffled, hiccuped, and waited for someone to come help her. But no one came. It was too much: she finally gave a long wail, working herself up to sob so hard that tears and snot started dripping all over the golden petals.

Something was coming down the stone passage. She stopped and huddled into the flowers, but they weren't tall enough to hide in, and a patch of sunlight shining from above lit her up clearly.

He walked out of the darkness with a sword in each hand. His eyes glittered; when they met hers, she froze, too scared to breathe.

The...man? It must have been a monster, because it looked like a person, if a person could also be a goat: white fur, horns, and golden eyes, with a muzzle and a pointy black stripe on each cheek. But it walked on two feet and wore a long black robe with a symbol on it...like a person.

To her surprise, the monster didn't eat her, or breathe fire, or chop her up. He watched her for a moment. With a flick of each wrist, the swords vanished. "Hello there," he said in a soft, deep voice, squatting down a few feet away. "Where did you come from? Are you hurt?"

She couldn't answer. To her even bigger surprise, the monster sat down with his legs crossed and took hold of his floppy white ears, one in each hand. He flopped them over his eyes and looked around, as if surprised. "Oh, no! I thought there was a human in here! Who turned out the lights?"

Now she was puzzled, and slightly insulted. What was he doing? She wasn't a baby!

But as the goat-man kept it up, calling, "Hellooo, huuuuman?" and turning this way and that, her fear ebbed away until she started giggling. He scooched closer and peeked out from under his ear. "Aaah, no, it's the human," he said in very fake terror. "You've caught me. Please, human, if you let me go, I'll take you somewhere safe. I'll even heal you—have you ever been healed before?"

The human shook her head, leaning over to wipe her face on some of the bigger flowers. He let go of his ears, moved closer, and extended his white paw—a hand with five fingers, but sharp nails and fur, still a paw. "It's easy. All you have to do is touch the green light. See?" His palm glowed, and the child poked at it, fascinated.

After a few seconds, her leg didn't hurt anymore. She sat up, and she wasn't dizzy. The goat-man smiled at her, only the very tips of his fangs showing. "All better?"

Monsters were supposed to be bad, but he had the kindest eyes she'd ever seen. He held his paw – hand – out again, and she took it, delighted at how soft his fur was. "It's very nice to meet you," he said. "My name is Asriel. What's yours?"

She had to think for a second. "My name is—"

 ~

 Sans jerked awake. Someone was banging on the door. He tried to stand up, but the floor wouldn't stay still: it dumped him right off his feet. "Fu' you, too," he told it. Dammit, his head hurt.

The banging didn't stop. With a more concerted effort, his body got off the floor and carried itself all the way to the front door. He wrenched at the knob and shoved it open.

Dr. Serif moved back exactly in time to avoid a broken nose. "Good morning," he said coolly, and pushed past Sans. "Close the door. Do not break it."

The boss monster tried, he really did, but the knob kept jumping out of the way. With a quietly profane expression, the doctor used a series of hands to shut the door, pull Sans into position, and grab the back of his head. "Holy fucknuts, that's better," the giant skeleton mumbled a moment later. "Thank—ow!"

"You and your foul mouth are welcome." Gaster surveyed the front room. "This is a lovely house. I hope you've treated it well." He sniffed the air several times. "Whatever did you do? What have you had to drink?"

"Water! Mostly. A little cider, no liquor in it." Now that Sans was sober, he was chagrined to follow Gaster to the kitchen and see a huge heap of brownish apple cores on the table. "They were sellin' a bunch on my way back here last night," he mumbled. "I was hungry."

Gaster pointed at the cores, and the wastebin. Sans obediently lifted the pile and dumped it into the bin with a touch of magic. Gaster then pointed at the compost heap outside, and Sans heaved a huge sigh as he picked up the bin to take it outside.

The older skeleton gave him an odd look as he came back in. "Do you mean you were on your way back here last night from the Underground?" Gaster inquired.

"Well, yeah. Where else'd I be comin' from?" Sans stuck his head in the sink, opened his mouth, and turned the faucet on.

"Apparently, a place where you can be drunk enough to lose an entire day."

The boss monster coughed violently, turning the water off before he drowned himself. "Where I what?"

"You set out with Snowdrake two days ago. The High Priestess expected you back at some point yesterday. It is Sunday, and she had to attend matins, or else she would have come with me to check if you were dead or merely sleeping off your overconsumption of...hmm." A pair of hands took hold of Sans' skull and pulled it down for closer inspection. "You still smell like apples. The priestess also said she smelled it the other morning." Sigh. "At least you spent the missing day here, judging by the age of those apple cores, and not out gallivanting after poachers." Gaster released him. "By any chance, did you stay in human shape for a long time, then eat, and then remove your device before you went to sleep?"

Sans couldn't remember anything. "...Yes? I think?"

"I would call you names, but as I did not figure it out, either, I will call you only one: idiot." The doctor sighed again. "Apples ferment fairly easily. I've never heard of fluctuating magic levels and shifts in internal chemistry rendering them an intoxicant after consumption, and there's no reason for such a weak form of alcohol to affect you this badly, but it's a viable hypothesis. No more cider or apples for you, young skeleton, until we can test the theory in a more controlled setting. Till then, we'll need to check the rest of the house before we can leave in good conscience."

The forensic evidence was not difficult to unravel. Most of the house was fine, but little puddles led from the wet patch in the living room where Sans had fallen asleep all the way into the bathroom, where every single towel was wet, either from being thrown on the wet floor or folded up and placed inside the tub...which was full of water. Without being told, Sans sheepishly set to work unplugging the tub, wringing things out, and draping them over surfaces where they could drip dry. His drunk self must have been experimenting with his human form, taking several baths and...

Oh. Oh, wow. Now he sort of knew what he'd been doing yesterday. It wasn't his fault that he'd gotten so worked up from snuggling Frisk; when he awoke, he'd had the idea to put the chain back on and see if that one thing down there would happen again, and it had. The little he knew of male human physiology and its parallels to monster reproduction had finally coalesced; he'd realized was going on and what he could do about it, and did it. It'd been really fun for a while, but then he...had he had to stop for some reason? Had his hands gotten tired, or was it something else that wasn't working? He couldn't remember.

As for what had been working, damn. He still loathed humans, but this explained a lot.

He had some questions, though. He'd have to peruse Frisk's textbooks when he got back, or ask the doctor, in the event the books failed to cover the finer points of magic boners.

Gaster watched him tidy up in silence. When the bathroom was back in order, he said crisply, "Find your device and come with me. Frisk has been working very hard and sleeping very poorly, and she needs moral support."

That sounded about right. Sans found his silver chain tied to a light fixture in an empty bedroom, put it on, and followed Gaster out of the house, stopping long enough to lock the not-quite-damaged front door.

It was a cold enough morning to see their breath; they passed several children pretending to hold cigars and exhale smoke. "Nice day," Sans complained, huddling deeper into his overcoat. "D'ya mind if I just go somewhere no one can see an' take a shortcut back?"

"She made her decision," said Dr. Serif.

Sans came up alongside him, sure he'd misheard. "She did what?"

"She decided to throw the box away yesterday morning. I disposed of it myself. It's gone."

They walked. It was cold. "Huh," said Sans.

"Indeed."

Five minutes passed. They kept walking. It was still cold.

The doctor looked sidelong at him. "Are you all right?" he asked delicately.

Sans shrugged. "Is she all right?"

Dr. Serif looked this way and that as they stopped at a crosswalk. Several heavily laden wagons were trundling by, drivers and horses alike shivering in the relentless wind. "Not entirely," he said over the noise of wheels crunching on pavement. "She's no longer uncertain of herself, but she has been writing letters nonstop instead of sleeping. Lord Owen has departed to visit his sister for a few days, just in time to miss the news. Did the first fortune have any sort of timetable attached?"

Sans shook his head a little. There was nothing to say, so he didn't bother trying.

One of the wagons was stopped because a horse had decided to take a break in the middle of the street; the driver was climbing down to convince it otherwise. "I'd like you to attend a discussion with my colleagues this afternoon," said Dr. Serif. "Most of them are excited about the possibilities of solar energy conversion, but several are requesting more details before they will support the project."

"Sure," Sans mumbled.

The wagoners behind the recalcitrant horse were getting impatient. If the doctor felt the same way, he didn't show it. "Two weeks," he said, as if to himself. "It's been approximately that long since you were captured, hasn't it? It feels much longer."

No answer. Dr. Serif shifted around until he was facing Sans and took a look at his chest. He grimaced. "Sans, may I just say—"

"Ya think she'll let me come back?"

The doctor blinked. "Beg pardon?"

Under the sounds of the drivers cursing and other pedestrians complaining, Sans said, "Even if she marries that fu—friggin' dork, it's not like she's gonna be locked up fer the rest of 'er life. An' it's not like I'm gonna learn every damn thing she knows in one month. If she can't come to the Underground, I'll just hafta drag my bony ass back here for more lessons. Right?"

"More or less," said the royal sorcerer.

"But..." Sans rubbed his chapped lips, which made them hurt more. "Remember when I talked about killin' someone if they bugged me, and Frisk said I was just doin' what I wanted, 'n not ta come back if I did? What if I run into poachers again and I have to kill 'em?"

"...Because of a life-and-death situation, or because you personally cannot stop yourself?"

"I dunno! Both?"

Dr. Serif discreetly wiped his nose on a handkerchief. "I suspect her definition of 'life-and-death' differs from yours, but I believe she was more concerned with your self-restraint. Let me ask you this: have you ever killed a human purely for enjoyment, or found an excuse to kill one who was not an immediate threat? Even if eliminating someone was fully justified, have you ever deliberately used a slow or painful method to inflict more suffering?"

For the first time since he'd become a boss monster, the thought of slaughtering humans made Sans uncomfortable. "I only ever fight 'em where they're not s'posed ta be," he pointed out. "The only ones ya see out that far are lookin' ta catch monsters. I'm not goin' to their villages or anythin'."

"You're not answering me. I repeat, have you ever—"

"What am I s'posed t'do?! Sit down everyone I see carryin' a buncha chains an' explain that it hurts our feelin's when they're mean to us?"

"I think you'd be better off asking yourself these things instead of trying to argue with me. I also think you know what Frisk would say if you were to ask her directly."

Sans shuffled his feet, wiggling his toes inside his leather boots. The stubborn horse and its wagon had finally started moving down the street. "Here's another question," said the doctor. "Have you ever successfully restrained your temper around the High Priestess?"

The human-ish boss monster glared at him. "Are you kiddin'? Ya think I wanna worry about breakin' 'er like a twig every time I get pissed off?"

"I do not." Dr. Serif employed his handkerchief again. "Have you ever fully lost your temper with her, or in her presence?"

"Well..." He thought guiltily of the time he'd badgered her about singing till she damn near whistled a hole through his skull, and he smiled at how she'd climbed on the table to get in his face afterward. Man, he'd deserved that. Then there was the dent he'd bashed in the tabletop that other time... "I was just bein' a dick. I didn't even think about hurtin' 'er."

"Really? You've made it sound as if it is not possible to restrain yourself in moments of duress. The High Priestess is a remarkable young woman, but she is a human being, just like the ones you—"

"She's not like them, an' I'll break yer fuckin' neck if you say that again."

The people standing near them inched away as Dr. Serif looked at Sans. Sans stared at him, unblinking, until the doctor sighed. "If I have to put literally everything in a Frisk-centric context to get through to you, I will," he said testily. "Do you think she would be pleased to hear you threaten to kill someone for insulting her, which I was not?"

Sans bit the inside of his weird, fleshy cheek. "No," he admitted.

"You will not be with her all day, every day for very much longer. Do you really think she would allow you to return if she had reason to believe you'd killed or needlessly injured anyone in the interim?"

Sans tapped one foot, then the other. "Dunno how she'd even know if I did. S'not like I'd be strollin' up t'her with blood 'n guts all over...my..."

He trailed off as a memory prodded him: that dream recounting his very first encounter with poachers, how he'd crunched the sorcerer's spine and then slammed the other humans into each other until they stopped screaming. He'd enjoyed it immensely till he heard that familiar whistle behind him and realized that Frisk was standing there, seeing him in all his murderous glory.

The moment he heard that sound, before he even turned, he'd instantly gone from elation to abject terror. He thought she would run away from him, or demand some kind of justification he couldn't give, or tell him never to come near her again; she could have accused him of tricking her, pretending to be the kind of person who wouldn't do something like this, much less enjoy it.

She hadn't. She didn't even flinch when she saw the literal blood on his hands. She'd just been herself—said she wanted to see him, apologized for hurting his feelings, and opened up to him about her fears and frustration, as though he hadn't just slaughtered a bunch of people and laughed about it. When was the last time anyone had asked him for help with anything, period? Had anyone ever asked him for touchy-feely advice? In the last few months, he'd spent so much time away from the Underground that even Pap had pretty much stopped bugging him about puzzles or picking up his socks whenever he was home.

...Damn. What if he enjoyed killing stuff so much because it was the only thing he was good for anymore? If he could somehow stop, what would he have left?

And the worst part was that after all that, she'd still wound up hugging him again, and even now, his SOUL was still a little mushy around the edges.

He didn't understand. Frisk wasn't blind or stupid; how could anyone with half a brain see what he was capable of and still care about him that much?

And why was he getting aroused again?!

The last wagon had trundled out of the way. "It's very simple," the doctor remarked, pulling Sans along by the elbow as the backed-up crowd surged forward around them. "What would you rather have? Freedom to be as horrible as you wish, or the right to ever see Frisk again?"

"But—"

"But what, Sans?"

But what, indeed. All this moralizing was background noise compared to the fact that she'd chosen her "adequate" future, and the only thing he could control was whether he'd be allowed to drop by from time to time. He had no right to pout – or be a complete fucking wreck – because she'd taken his advice and stopped agonizing over her decision. It wasn't as if anything had really changed, as far as he was concerned; she wasn't going to stop being his friend or teacher just because she was getting married to some human moron. Was it her fault that his deep-down, germ-sized hope of somehow fitting into her second fortune had been crushed like it deserved?

Stupid Gaster. If he hadn't given Sans that stupid chain, the idea of fathering her kid would never have been so cruelly plausible. Sans remembered how he'd found out he could make a tongue for himself when he wanted: he'd been curious about Toriel's famous pies a few years back and wanted to see if he could taste them somehow. In the same vein, the chain hadn't given him brand-new powers of smell or touch or boners, just shown him how he could've done it at any time.

Then Gaster had gone and told him for a fact that skeletons and humans could have children together, which meant sex, which brought it all full circle: he should be capable of manifesting and fully employing the relevant equipment, just like his tongue. Of course, there was that awkward size difference between him and the average human, and Frisk was even smaller than average, but if he could conjure a thing with magic, wouldn't it be logical to assume he could adjust it as needed? Hell, why couldn't he temporarily downsize his overall structure long enough to—

"—ans? Sans!"

The boss monster twitched. Dr. Serif had tugged him down a side street and looked ready to slap him to get his attention. Sans raised his hands. "What? Whaddya want?"

"I want to ascertain how you're going to behave before we arrive." The doctor somberly folded his arms, then spoiled the effect by getting the handkerchief out to blow his nose. "Are you going to be a friend, or a problem?"

There was that painfully accurate summation again. He needed to remember that he was operating under different rules than human males, or even other monsters: his actual parts weren't the biggest issue, no pun intended for once. He had to accept that it wasn't gonna happen. "I'm her friend," answered Sans. "Not like I can be much else. She's not a boss monster, so..."

"No...no, she is not." The doctor paused, as if in thought, then took Sans' elbow again. "To the castle, please, the stairwell outside her quarters. I don't know about you, but I'm freezing my ass off."

 ~

 Sans was so nervous to face Frisk again that it was both a relief and a letdown to find out she wasn't in her rooms. "I did wonder," he remarked to Gaster as they threw off their disguises. The boss monster stacked some logs in the fireplace and tossed a handful of flame on them. "Right after I came here, she said her mom was sick, but I never heard anythin' else about it. This's the first time I know of that she's gone t'see 'er."

"Rosa doesn't do well with most visitors," Gaster explained. "She suffers from a degenerative neurological disorder. Frisk ensures she has the best possible care, but there is little to be done except keep her comfortable."

Sans scratched his metacarpals—using fire always made him itch. It was no wonder now that Frisk hadn't wanted him to go bug her mom with questions about her visit to the Underground. No wonder she was always so stressed, either, with a dad who was somehow neglectful and nosy, and a mother physically and mentally out of commission. Poor lady—and then, when she'd just wanted a little bit of guidance from the fortune-teller, she'd gotten this fate-of-the-world shit dumped on her!

That did it. No matter how crappy and torn-up he felt, Sans vowed he wasn't going to do anything to make her life harder. He wouldn't kill that Owen guy; he could help deliver stuff, make sure no one tried to murder her before the wedding...

Fuck. He wished he'd never gotten caught, or that someone, anyone else had come to get him out of his cell that day. He'd known better than to get close to another human, he'd done it anyway, and now look what had happened!

...No, whatever he was feeling, she had to be feeling way worse, even if it was for different reasons. As things were, at least he could be here to help. He'd have to keep telling himself that.

Gaster had picked up a huge folder and was leafing through its contents, his face impassive. "She's left you some guidelines for your next set of experiments," the older skeleton said, indicating a small set of books and papers on the counter. "Completing them to the best of your ability would be an ideal apology for your absence. Let me know if you need help."

The boss monster could see the sense in that, so he read over Frisk's list of supplies and recommended recipes, each book marked conspicuously with a new bookmark. He had to smile at that. Her handwriting was cute, too, with little swirls on the ends of some letters.

The materials she'd set aside for him included a block of alfalfa hay, cubes of alfalfa meal, and pellets of various plant materials, though it was mostly alfalfa. Sans amused himself as he worked by thinking alfalfalfafalfa until the word fell apart and reading it made him snicker. Hay, he had to stay sane somehow!

It wasn't enough. Waiting for Frisk was killing him. Her lunch was delivered a couple of hours after they got back, and she wasn't there. Gaster told him not to be alarmed, that she'd probably been called to mediate something or help someone else now that she was being accompanied by humans instead of a giant skeleton, but that didn't make Sans feel any better.

Eventually, when the mixtures had all been applied to the seedlings and everything was labeled and recorded and double-checked, Sans got so antsy that he started looking through the other books on the worktable. One had a freshly dog-eared page that made him open it up to smooth it out, wondering why she'd bothered to get the damn bookmarks if she wasn't going to use them, and then why she'd been reading up on truth spells.

Huh. There was a scribbly mark at the start of one paragraph: The stronger the application, the less ambiguous a subject's words become. Sarcasm, hyperbole, and similar rhetorical devices cannot be employed to say anything the subject does not sincerely believe to be true. Sans shrugged, put a bookmark in like God intended, and set it aside.

"It's time," the royal sorcerer said presently, several hours after lunch. He put the folder away and beckoned to the younger skeleton. "This way. Please leave your device off."

Sans had forgotten about talking with the other sorcerers, and absolutely did not want to go. The doctor had to speak to him rather sternly and at great length about the importance of alternative energy, educating the highest levels of human society and allowing the best possible knowledge to be passed down therefrom, filtering out rumor and bad information before it began, all for the mutual benefit and future coexistence of monsters and humanity.

Sans still didn't wanna. Dr. Serif ended up having to shove him bodily out the doors and most of the way down the hall, unseen hands prodding him until he gave up.

Nevertheless, with his resolution to make things smoother for Frisk, Sans got through the meeting pretty well. It was held in a library with about a dozen whey-faced nerds in black robes, most of whom were too curious to be scared of him; he had to spend a half hour answering questions about monsters and letting them watch him breathe and talk and all sorts of crap first.

Then they went over Dr. Serif's notes, clarifying a few points Sans had forgotten or mixed up. The boss monster had to admit that the sorcerers were good about catching mathematical discrepancies, and one woman had some solid ideas about different alloys that could improve the solar arrays' efficiency and reduce the chance of warping or melting the panels. Her wavy hair reminded him of the High Priestess—one of her half-sisters?

Whatever. The discussion lasted a few hours, and though he did find it interesting, Sans wanted to see Frisk so badly that the moment they adjourned and Dr. Serif indicated he was going to go to his own quarters, the boss monster didn't even bother leaving the room before he teleported himself back. The guards were getting used to his sudden appearances, and informed him without much fear that Her Eminence had returned less than half an hour ago.

Sans faced the double doors and fought down his sudden nervousness. It was cowardly of him, but he couldn't bring himself to knock. Instead, he eased a few tendrils of magic through the crack in the doors – did she even realize the barrier was permeable there? – and lifted the bar very, very carefully, setting it against the wall on that side with as little noise as possible. The doors swung open on well-oiled hinges, and Sans shut them behind him just as quietly.

She wasn't in the workroom. The light outside was fading; the bedroom was dark, as was the office, and the dressing room. To his surprise, he heard faint splashing sounds from the tub—what was she doing in there so early?

At a loss, Sans wandered over to the worktable. At least he'd cleared it before they left for the meeting. The problem was that the dent was showing, the one from their argument over transitioning monsters from slavery to partnership. He still hated the idea, but there was no reason it couldn't work, maybe, eventually...in the other future where she'd opened the box.

Sans shook himself and applied his frustration to that stupid dent, hating the loss of self-control it represented. Sure enough, when he released a burst of magic over it, the damaged wood creaked, swelled, and filled itself back in like rising bread dough, leaving a solid surface with only a few fissures. I'll be damned, I fixed something on purpose, he mused, poking at it.

The splashing in the bathroom stopped. The skeleton froze, wondering if she'd heard or felt anything, but then the sounds resumed. It occurred to him for the first time that she probably didn't have clothes on, and he immediately decided to think about something else. Oh, look, there was the folder Gaster had been reading the whole afternoon. Sans reached for it—

Something shot straight through his SOUL, seizing his entire body up, magic and bones and all. It was a sweet, unearthly sound—it was Frisk.

She wasn't humming, or whistling, or tapping a rhythm on something with her hands. She was singing, very low, just loud enough to give him chills: "The years now before us, fearful and unknown—I never imagined I'd face them on my own..." A deep breath. "May these thousand winters swiftly pass, I pray—I love you, I miss you, all these miles away..."

Sans was rigid, every fiber of his being waiting for the next verse. But the voice had faltered, and the next sound was an all-too-familiar sniff, and another, till it became clear that she was, if not actively crying, too upset to continue. Well, no shit, that's the sappiest thing I've ever heard and you're already a mess, said a very tiny corner of his mind.

Meanwhile, his feet were moving, and the rest of him followed straight to the bathroom. Too bad she hadn't locked it, because he could not physically stop himself from opening the door and striding in to kneel by the tub, reach down, and drape his hand over the very startled priestess' back and shoulders, pulling her as close to him as the side of the tub would allow. "Hi," he murmured into her hair.

Nothing happened for several seconds. "...Sans?" Frisk had hunched over in alarm when he burst in, but after a moment, her hand crept up to rest on his humerus, though she remained huddled against the high enamel side. "What..."

His eyes were closed, his mind still a hazy mess of feeling. It didn't help that she smelled amazing, and she felt amazing, and...

"Sans?"

She was much warmer than before. Well, that made sense. The bathwater was very hot, and she was in the bath.

Something felt different under his hand. How had she gotten even softer? His metacarpals flexed, and she squeaked. "Sans!" she hissed.

"Hm?" How was he supposed to concentrate on anything when he was touching bare skin?

Wait. Why was he touching b—

Oh.

Shit.

...So, if she was in the tub...that meant he shouldn't move his hand down like—

"SANS!"

 ~

 The good news was that she didn't seem sad anymore. The better-than-expected news was that once the shock wore off, she wasn't really angry with him, though he didn't know that right away. The split-second he snapped out of it, Sans had been so mortified that he took a shortcut straight back to the bedroom and locked himself in, half out of fear for his personal safety and half afraid she'd be mad enough to leave again if he hung around.

But within ten minutes, she was knocking on the door and saying his name. "Nope," he muttered back.

A sigh. "Please let me in, Sans. I just want to talk."

Dammit. Sans twitched a phalange at the lock, and it clicked open.

Frisk was in her purple robe, face still flushed. Sans remained sitting on the side of bed by the opposite wall, staring at the cold fireplace, awaiting his doom.

Another sigh. She clambered onto the bed, or so he inferred from the rustling of the mattress and the scent that drifted over him a moment later. "You're not in trouble. That was my fault," she said, strangely matter-of-fact.

Blink. Blink. Blinkblink. "How."

The priestess shifted around, and he risked a peek at her. She was sitting at about his-arm's-length away, her hands and feet tucked in, legs pulled up and cheek resting on her knees. "I wasn't sure if I'd heard you come back or not. I was lonely, I wasn't thinking. I had this stupid idea to...I don't know, lure you in, if you were here?" Frisk buried her face in her fuzzy sleeve. "That didn't sound any better in my head." Squirm. "I didn't think I was using that much magic. I wasn't thinking at all. I'm so sorry."

Okay. That was unexpected. Sans was relieved, but didn't know whether to also be pleased or angry or what. He could start by kicking himself that he hadn't gotten any kind of look at her—she was so small that when she was scrunched up at one end of the tub, he'd have to be looking straight down to see anything, which he hadn't. He hadn't busted in there with any intention except to be near her.

So...should he tell her that he didn't understand many nuances of human interaction, but he was pretty sure that being lonely was the worst possible reason to call someone else in while she was in the tub? She probably didn't think that he was as functionally male as he was, which was completely understandable, but still...

Still, here she was. And it turned out that his tiny, squishy, beaten-up hope, the idea that he could somehow cram himself into a bigger role in her life than "pet project," wasn't as dead as he'd thought. It was resurging, and so was the now-familiar urge to grab her, except this time, he knew exactly what he was supposed to do with it. He knew that she'd missed him and had just admitted enticing him in while she was naked, and—

Sans didn't remember that he was a boss monster, or that she trusted him not to do anything like this, or any of the other terrible things that could happen if he got carried away. He was shifting his weight to reach over and pull her toward him when she said, with her face still buried, "Where were you yesterday?"

Oh. Right. The skeleton moved back, screaming internally and crossing his legs as hard as he could. "I—I wasn't off hurtin' anyone. I was at yer house...uh..." There was no other way to say it, was there? "I was drunk as hell, pretty much the whole day. Doc says switchin' back and forth from me ta human 'n back made some wacky chemical reaction that fermented all the apples I'd had, 'n...yeah. I didn't do it on purpose, I swear."

She raised her head, frowning. Sans wracked his brain for something to make her stop it. "At least we found the core of the problem, huh?"

Her expression lightened a little. "All right, I believe you." But then she frowned again. "Please don't do that again. You really scared me when you didn't come home yesterday."

Come home? Was she trying to fucking kill him? "Sorry." Sans forced a laugh. "You can always come check on me when we're asleep, right? Now I know ta clean up whatever I'm dreamin' in case I have company."

The young woman fidgeted, tugging a lock of hair behind her ear. "Do you have a lot of those, where you're reliving things you've done?"

She didn't sound upset. Why didn't she sound upset? "Sometimes," he admitted. "Depends how I'm feelin' when I go ta sleep, what I've had to eat, how tired I am, that kinda thing."

Frisk rested her head on her knees again, looking right at him. "You weren't always like that, were you?"

It wasn't an accusation. It was a calm, non-judgmental invitation to talk about it if he wanted to, which made him feel worse. "Well, no," he said, throttling down his...everything. "I wasn't a giant psycho till I got hit 'n started growin' like this." The boss monster tapped his sternum. "It's been a little at a time, but I get bigger n' meaner every year. Back when me an' Pap first met Kris, I hated humans, but I never woulda dreamed of killin' 'em full-time. Now..."

Her gaze didn't waver. "Did King Asgore order you to guard the Underground from poachers?"

"Nope. 'Fact, 'm really not s'posed to be out there at all. No one is." Sans scratched the back of his skull. He could still feel it where she'd touched him the other night. "I started doin' it a few years ago when a kid came through Snowdin cryin' fer his mom. We all knew she'd gone t'look for her husband 'cause he left to hunt some deer 'n didn't come back. So out I went, and I found 'er pretty quick. They'd wrung all her magic out. She was still alive, but not for long."

Someone knocked on the outside doors. Frisk very quietly rose and went to open it, bringing their dinner inside and putting the heavy bar back in place. Then she returned to her spot on the bed. "So the King doesn't know what you're doing?" she asked.

Why were they talking about this depressing shit instead of hugging some more? ...Probably because he couldn't trust himself right now to stop at hugging. Besides, he'd never told anyone any of this – especially not Pap – and he'd probably never be this comfortable with anyone else. "Oh, he knows," said Sans. "He's just useless, an' scared of me."

"Asgore? What do you mean?"

Her eyes had gone wide. Sans studied them for a second, thinking vaguely nice things about the color of wine and being very lovely in general, but it wasn't enough to drag him out of the mood he was working himself into. "I mean he's no good without the Queen, and she's hunkered down in the Ruins 'cause she blames him for everythin' that happened with Chara before the accident. Meanwhile, his big dumb ass knows she's right, but he won't apologize 'cause he's still pissed that she stood up to him in fronta everyone and let the humans go, as if killin' 'em woulda brought Asriel back. It's almost worse than havin' no rulers at all." The boss monster looked at his hand, feeling his eyes light up. "There's no food, no leadership, no one knows what's gonna happen."

"Sans—"

It was too late. Now that he'd started, the words came pouring out: "It wouldn't be so bad if everythin' in the Underground wasn't made of pure magic, but when there's that much fear and anger goin' around, you can actually see it build up, like fog. No joke. It's this shit-awful funk just kinda hangin' over everything. A couple years after the humans left, it got so bad that it even started infectin' Papyrus. The first time he yelled at me – I mean, screamin' at me outta nowhere, when I wasn't even buggin' him – I went out an' I saw this cloud over our house, and I just kinda snapped."

His hand opened and closed. Frisk stayed quiet. "I was so pissed that I tried ta pull some of that crap out of the air with my magic, just t'see what'd happen," Sans continued, "an' it actually worked. It came down, and it vanished. So I grabbed all the rest of it I could find, 'n it stayed gone. 'Fore I knew it, Pap was his old self again, 'n everyone seemed a little happier."

She shook her head. "When you say that it vanished, do you mean it evaporated, or did you absorb it?"

"Yep! Turns out when my magic touches any of it, I can't get it out again. It's just...in me. An' I hafta siphon more it off every couple of years, or everyone starts gettin' screwy again." He chuckled, a hollow sound that made her wince. "Gotta say, it's powerful as hell. The more I take, the stronger I get, an' now look at me." Sans shrugged. "I dunno. It's like gettin' hit with that explosion opened a hole in me I could fill with whatever I wanted, an' I didn't have anything else ta put in it."

Frisk watched him in silence, letting Sans get the last of his thoughts out. "So here we are. Pap's stayed his cool self, I'm a big ol' grouch, an' I could probably take Asgore in a fight if I really wanted. He knows damn well what I'm doin', but as long as I'm out protectin' everyone, he doesn't hafta worry about what else I'm up to, an' I feel like a helper. Everybody wins."

"I doubt that," the priestess murmured. "If you've spent years soaking up all the negative energy in the Underground and then feeding it with constant violence..."

It was now dark outside. Sans made a careless gesture. "I'm hungry. Ya hungry? Let's—"

"I'll go back with you."

The skeleton stopped in the act of pushing himself to his feet. He slowly turned to face her. "What did you say?"

"You asked me to come with you to speak to Asgore. This is my answer," she said calmly. "We still have a little over two weeks left. I've organized a series of inspections that will probably end up with more monsters being confiscated and placed in my custody. We can have one of them bring a letter to the Underground ahead of time to let him know we're—"

"Nope." Sans got up and went into the workroom. "Time ta eat." He unloaded the trolley, got everything set out, put the trolley out in the hall, barred the doors, and sat down.

Then he sighed, and went back to the bedroom, where Frisk was still sitting on the bed, just staring at him. "Look. Frisk. I've been thinkin' it over, an' it was a bad idea. I..." He shut his eyes as tight as he could. "Asgore will kill you. Okay? You've got the most unbelievable SOUL I've ever seen, and he'll see it, too, an' he's gonna try ta take it. He's gotten so bitter since Toriel left that I don't think we could even talk to 'im. He'd kill you, or we'd hafta kill him."

Frisk stood up on the bed, so that she was only a couple feet shorter than him, several feet away. "It's true, then? A monster can steal a human SOUL to become more powerful?"

"It's true, and it wouldn't be 'more powerful.' Try 'godlike.' An' that's just a regular monster 'n human. If Asgore got ahold of your SOUL, he could kill every human in this kingdom, an' nobody could stop 'im."

Her face had grown pale. "I see," she managed. Frisk slowly sank back to the mattress. "I...go ahead and eat. Please get started without me."

Sans felt that helpless anxiety that, unbeknownst to him, was so common among males of both species—should he at least try to comfort her first? "'Kay," he rumbled. "'m really sorry, Frisk. If there was anythin' I could do ta—"

"Please get started without me!"

Crap. He should've just listened to her. "Okay, okay, I'm goin'!"

Sure enough, the moment he stepped into the workroom, the bedroom door closed, and Sans felt a fresh barrier go up. He sat down and poked at his food. It didn't look that great anymore, but he might as well be miserable, not miserable and hungry. It wasn't like she was going to be in there all night, right?

...Right?

 ~

 No sooner had they stepped out of the flowery cavern than she heard more footsteps, bigger and heavier ones. "Asriel!" It was a woman's voice echoing from far off, stern and a little scared. "Asriel, my child, where are you? They'll be here any moment!"

"Here, Mama," called her new friend. "We're coming." He tugged gently on her hand, and she let him guide her down a long, purple-tiled hallway.

"'We'?" The motherly voice was moving toward them. "What do you mean, dear? No one else should be down here unless—"

They rounded a corner, and so did Asriel's mother. She'd sounded like a normal human mom, but she was another goat monster, with short horns and a purple robe. "My goodness!" The goat-lady hurried forward and dropped to her knees in front of the child. "Where did you come from, little one? Are you hurt? Is he hurt, Asriel?"

"No, Mama," he said, smiling at the child again. "I found him in the golden flowers. He got separated from the others and fell down here."

"I see," the goat-lady said, her voice sounding funny. But then she smiled warmly at the human, who smiled right back. She'd never had a real mom, and this one seemed like everything she'd ever dreamed of, except with more fur. "Welcome to the Underground, my child. I am so very pleased to have you with us. I am Queen Toriel, and it seems you've been lucky enough to meet my son, Prince Asriel."

The little human looked up at him in terror. The prince? Had she been rude to him, or to the Queen? Should she bow, or say something royal, or—

"It's all right, Kris," said Asriel. "Mama, I'd like to take him to the house and get him cleaned up before the rest of the humans arrive. We'll be in the Great Hall as soon as we can."

"You most certainly will not! You will go tell your father that I am attending to our very first guest, and we will be there when Kris is ready." Toriel got to her feet and took the child's hand from Asriel. "Come with me, little one. Off you go, dear." She made a shooing motion at her son.

Asriel sighed, but arguing was clearly not an option. "Yes, Mama. I'll see you again soon, Kris!"

The child nodded, watching him disappear around the corner with amazing speed. Monsters could do that, couldn't they? At least some of the stories seemed to be true.

Toriel smiled down at her again. The child suddenly felt strange, but in a good way. Asriel was wonderful, and his mother looked so loving that the child wanted to throw herself into her arms right there.

And just like magic, the Queen released her hand, knelt, and opened her arms for a huge, warm, cloud-soft hug. "Poor child," Toriel murmured, the vibrations in her chest rumbling against the human's cheek. "We will take care of you for as long as you are here. I promise."

The child burrowed her face into the monster's robe, where no one could get mad at her for crying. If this was what the Underground was really like, then she wasn't scared anymore. She wouldn't run away; she'd stay as long as the others did, and fib all they wanted her to. She wished she could stay forever!

 ~

 Sans jerked awake as a fork rattled onto a plate. "Dirt," said Frisk. "Sorry about that."

He'd fallen asleep on the workroom floor. It was dark out; the clock was about to strike 2. "What're you doin' up?" The skeleton got up and sat at the table.

"Cleaning," she said pointedly, stacking the last plate onto the last tray and setting them on the neglected trolley.

There was a stack of paper and a couple of ink bottles laid out, and Sans recalled how Gaster said she'd been writing nonstop. "What's all that?" he asked suspiciously.

"It's paper." Frisk sat down and grabbed a fresh sheet. "I have arrangements to make."

Sans made a rude noise, ignoring the twinge in his SOUL. "Yeah, but isn't it kinda soon? He hasn't even asked ya." He rapped the tabletop with his knuckles. "What's the first step again with all that crap? Gettin' a ring?"

The priestess paused, face going blank. "The first...?" She shut her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Can I assume you had a talk with Dr. Serif on your way here?"

Twinge twinge. "Yep. He tol' me he threw the box out for ya." Twiiiiinge. "He wasn't lyin', was he?"

"No." She opened her eyes. "I've checked your work on the seedlings. I don't know exactly what you had in mind for that last batch of pellets, but we'll see how it goes over the next week. Do you have any questions?"

What the crap? Was that all she was going to say? Maybe she'd do some other thing when the seedlings had grown a little more. "Uh, yeah, one question. How much sleep did ya get just now? I was up fer a couple hours before I passed out."

"Hm." The priestess rummaged in a little box of writing supplies. Only two witchlights were on, just enough to show that she looked terrible: pale, red-eyed, and...resigned, as if someone had done something really awful and left her to deal with it, but it was somehow her fault, too.

"Don't 'hm' me, lady. Ya look like total crap," he said bluntly.

Frisk ignored him, fishing out a pen. He was ready to demand an explanation when she started whistling again, the same beautiful but sad song from before. This felt much more pointed than her usual soothing noises, but it was still effective; Sans could muster just enough energy to be indignant that she was putting him back to sleep, and then his head was on the table, and he was asleep.

 ~

 To Sans' surprise and frustration, the next few days followed the same pattern, but worse. There was no more hugging, or talking about feelings, or any of the things he'd grown to expect. Frisk stayed a little too busy and grew more and more tired, but she ignored his questions, saying she'd explain what she was doing once it was over; after the second day or so, it was all he could do not to blow up at her. He couldn't force her to act happier now that her decision was made, but it sucked that he'd advised her to pick something and stop being miserable, and she'd picked something, and now they were both miserable.

Not only would she not talk to him, she kept inviting Dr. Serif to the workroom to go over solar panel specifications or observe his experiments. There was no more quiet time alone together in the mornings or evenings: if they weren't studying, she was writing, or so mopey and distracted that it wasn't fun to beat her at chess anymore. The moment they were done eating dinner, she took a bath and went straight to bed, or at least to her office, leaving the light on and probably doing more goddamn work instead of sleeping.

She also started making him escort her into town in the afternoons to help her carry stuff. She'd gone instantly from no interest in shopping whatsoever to buying large quantities of the most random things imaginable: play scripts, different types of magic stones, miniature targets for archery practice, hair accessories, bath items, bolts of silk, children's toys, dance charts, expensive figurines, sheet music, a silver tea service, books on education—it couldn't be some kind of weird impulse thing, because the few times she let him peek over her shoulder as she wrote, he'd seen that she was making shopping lists. Whenever they brought another load of crap back to her rooms, she didn't unpack anything, just had him stack it clear up to the ceiling in her office.

The kicker was that Frisk didn't even seem to enjoy hoarding all that stuff, or anything else she was doing. She almost never smiled at him or made puns anymore. She just kept writing, and dodging his questions, and looked ready to cry pretty much all the time.

It would've been neat if his libido had also gotten mad and decided to grab its toys and go home...but no. Sans had now perused enough of Frisk's science and anatomy textbooks to piece together the entire picture of human reproduction; through his own hands-on experimentation – in the bathroom, in the middle of the night, sober this time – he could say with reasonable confidence that the process for humans and monsters was much more similar than he'd thought, and everything was working fine on his end. If he had his skin on, he could of course feel more, but he couldn't finish. As himself, the process took a lot of concentration, and he got weirded out if he looked down at it too long, but—

Why was he even bothering? Sure, it felt pretty great, but he wasn't a human. He was a monster, and monsters weren't designed to waste their time or magic playing with themselves. His instincts were all pointed straight at Frisk, and now that he knew what he was supposed to do, it was getting harder – ha – to content himself with alone time. He couldn't stop thinking about holding her again, and he didn't think it was that disingenuous to want to point out to her how much better she'd feel if she'd opened up to him again. And then sex.

...Damn it all to hell. Was the entire second half of his apprenticeship going to be like this?

 ~

 It was her own fault. She wasn't supposed to be there. She'd snuck in to get some chocolate from the refrigerator, and when she heard the grown-ups come in, she realized she'd taken too long to sneak back out. The best she could do was run behind Toriel's armchair in the living room and flatten herself against the back of it at an angle. Never mind how hot the fireplace was; they already sounded mad.

"For the thousandth time," she heard the King say in his big, rumbling voice, "if I had known that he could not marry you—"

"Then I still wouldn't have been welcome in my own home. Would I, Papa?" The child buried her head in her arms. It was her. Chara. She wasn't even pretending to be nice anymore. All her hatred was out in the open, aimed right at her former parents.

"My dearest child, please," Toriel said desperately.

"Your dearest child? Where? It would be so lovely to meet them! Ah, don't tell me—did you pick up another stray human?"

"Chara," protested the King.

"Is it Kris?" A short, cruel laugh. "I'm sure you'd rather have a boy this time! If they get someone pregnant, they don't have to deal with the consequences, do they? By all means, you can have him. I know you both love surprises."

The little human wished she was dead. Toriel and Asgore were both such nice people! Why was Chara saying these horrible things to them? Did she really like anyone? Was it some kind of game to her to be so pretty, act so perfect, and sing such amazing songs, then turn around and be a bigger monster than anyone with fur or horns?

"What do you want, Chara? What would you have of either of us? We cannot turn back time, but—"

"But you can do whatever you damn well please now. Don't worry, Mama, Papa. You might've thrown me out like a dog, but I made do. At least I survived."

The armchair rocked back into the child's body as Toriel sank into it. Asgore was silent; there was no sound except the Queen's sobbing.

More footsteps. Oh, no, it was Asriel. He was going to come in and see his mother crying and hear Chara, and—

"Big brother!" Light, prancing footsteps ran to meet Asriel. "I'm so sorry, Azzy, but we were talking, and I think I upset Mama," Chara said sheepishly. "Can you and I go for a walk so she can calm down?"

"Of course!" A brief pause, as if Asriel was seeing his parents' expressions. "Er...we'll be back in a bit. Is that all right?"

Asgore grunted. The child could feel Toriel shaking through the back of the armchair, though the Queen held her tears back till the front door had closed behind Asriel.

The King cleared his throat. "Tori, I—"

"Don't you 'Tori' me! Not now. Maybe not ever!"

The child hunched down even further as Asgore hurried away down the hall, slamming the bedroom door. This couldn't be happening. Maybe, if she stayed still enough, she'd wake up. If she was still...if she was good, maybe—

 ~

 Fourteen days were left of his month at the castle.

Frisk had gotten up looking as pale and worn as usual, but the moment Sans saw her leave her office, he knew something had changed. She was still unhappy, but now she also looked determined. "We're having dinner with His Majesty and Prince Gaius tonight," she announced as he unloaded breakfast onto the table.

"Oh yeah?" Sans glanced at the tray of unopened mail. "How d'ya know? You didn't mention it yesterday."

"I just decided it," she said flatly.

Sans sensed this was not the time to ask stupid questions, and he couldn't think of any smart ones, so he nodded and turned his attention to his food while Frisk wrote yet another note and put her scary-looking official seal on it. A few words at the double doors, and a guard ran off to take it straight to the King.

The course of the day itself was decided for them: before they had finished eating, someone else came to the doors with a sheaf of papers. Frisk brought them back to the table and asked, "Do you remember how I mentioned surprise inspections on how monsters are being kept?" She held up the papers. "I ordered fifteen of them for last night. These are the reports."

That explained several of the letters she'd been working on. "Didja ever get those records you wanted from the doughy guy?"

Frisk didn't crack a smile, but at least she wasn't frowning. "Yes, the Cardinal provided them the day you took Snowdrake home. I'll keep my promise to show it all to you, but I wanted to get the worst of the worst taken care of first. This way, you don't have to worry about anyone being in immediate danger. Please get started on those root measures while I go through these."

He did, and she did, and Sans could only console himself that he at least knew what she was writing this time. Of the fifteen near-simultaneous visits, five had resulted in citations and scheduled followups, while eight monsters had been found in such dangerous or unsanitary conditions that the Church agents had immediately confiscated them. That explained why she hadn't told him sooner what those letters were for—he might have gone straight out to liberate the monsters.

Frisk had prepared a dozen custody letters with blanks for monster and owner names and specific offenses, so that she had only to fill those in to get the custodial paperwork started. In the meantime, the monsters were being cared for in temporary quarters by people who knew that the High Priestess would hear of anything at all being done wrong and take swift action to correct it.

Watching her scribble her way through the pre-written letters and the documents necessary for the deposits on each monster, Sans had to reflect on the amount of time and forethought all of this had required, and congratulated himself on not going off on her for being so little fun the past few days. Granted, it was a pretty low bar, but he'd stumbled all the way over it! Even if she was going to marry some other schlub, he, Sans the skeleton, had been a helper, and he hadn't had to kill a single person to do it!

...Huh. He really had helped, and he really hadn't killed anyone, had he? Now all he had to do was keep his hands to himself and focus on his genuinely interesting homework for a couple more weeks, and...and he'd figure out what to do then.

Once Frisk was done and had summoned someone to whisk the papers away to their exciting new life, she had a new task for him. "When you return to the Underground," she told him, "I'll send as many seeds and herbal ingredients along with you as I can. But you also have your salary, and if you're going to use it for large quantities of foodstuffs, we need to arrange it ahead of time. I've compiled a list of current prices for wheat, barley, different kinds of beans, rice, and other nonperishables. Please look through these and make a rough estimate of what you'd like to pick up on your way back. I'll pay for the rental of a horse and wagon, or wagons, depending what you choose and how many trips we want to do."

"Neato." Sans glanced at the tray of letters, still untouched, and recognized the crest on one that had fallen slightly askew from the pile. "Hey, isn't that from yer boyfriend?"

"Don't be childish," Frisk said, so sharply that he wished he'd kept his mouth shut. She plucked the note out of the stack and ripped it open, scanning the few short lines. "Of course he heard about it already." The priestess tossed the note aside. "Before you ask, no, he's not proposing. He says he'll be there another week, and then they're both going to visit their parents."

Interesting. Sans didn't know if the guy was being overly confident that she'd wait for him, or what. Ha, maybe rich humans just took so long to set up big weddings that he was giving her a couple months' head start to get her shoes made or something.

...Actually, that could be the case. But at least it'd be a while before the guy came back! Who knew? Maybe he would choke to death on something or fall off his horse or—

Sans knew he should try to not wallow in evil thoughts, but it wasn't his fault: Frisk had bought some perfume when they were out yesterday, a light vanilla with hints of citrus that made her smell like candy. He'd had trouble focusing around her before, and now Sans found himself crunching his femurs together to help remind him that no.

Still, he had plenty else to think about; figuring out what to buy for the Underground, how much everyone would like of which food within his budget, was kind of like a puzzle. Papyrus probably wouldn't have enjoyed it, but Sans got so into it that lunch came while he was still scribbling in the margins. "We have more paper, you know," Frisk remarked at his shoulder.

That sounded more like the lady he knew. Sans didn't know what she'd been thinking, but as long as she was happy again, or on her way there...

Another good thing happened a little while after they were done with lunch. A couple of servants came puffing down the hall with two enormous boxes that turned out to be a cavernous black overcoat trimmed with white fur, a giant red shirt, and correspondingly large trousers. "Surprise," Frisk said as the men unpacked everything. "I ordered them when you were out with Snowdrake. I thought you could use more than one set of clothes. Very fancy, I know."

It was almost exactly the same outfit as his human form, but real, and exceptionally well-made. How much had the materials alone cost, never mind getting clothes this size in less than a week? "Are these slippers?" Sans demanded, lifting out a pair of enormous black slippers.

She grinned for the first time in days. "Remember the time we were arguing about whether you needed shoes? Here's a compromise. Try them on, please."

The shoemaker must have thought she was joking about his size, but the joke was on him: they fit perfectly. It was more comfortable than clacking around with bare bones. Way more. "Huh," he said.

"Excellent. There's no charge for these, by the way. Consider it hazard pay for taking me to the festival, and all that shopping." Frisk gave each of the servants a hundred-dinar piece and nodded them and the empty boxes out of the room.

Aaargh, she smelled great and she was being ludicrously generous—oh, good, she was going into the office now to let him try the new stuff on. Well, from a civilized point of view, he could see the sense in having more than one set of clothes: he'd only had his newish ones washed one time, and had worn the gross old ones while he waited. This way, he could just throw those out.

...Or he could throw out the other set, too. The black and red ensemble was warm and comfortable, it had great pockets, it looked cool, and he was never taking it off.

That resolution stayed with him all the way to their dinner with the King. When they arrived at the small dining room where King Stephin ate with his son every night, Sans remained decked out in his new stuff, including the slippers. To his absolute bemusement, not only had Frisk not argued, she'd donned a black dress with little sparkly bits and a garnet necklace and earrings. It was stupid and dumb of him to be so pleased that they matched, but, they matched.

This did not escape the King, who welcomed him with the same cordiality as their first meeting and gave Frisk a weird look as she came in. The Prince was a thin, sandy-haired, sickly-looking kid who had obviously been warned about him, because when the greetings and introductions were over, he seemed more relieved than scared. When he wouldn't stop staring, Sans ignored his own instructions and looked directly at him to say, "No worries, I don't bite."

Gaius nodded, fascinated. Frisk took a dainty spoonful of soup and, under the table, kicked Sans in the tibia. "Sans has made remarkable progress in his studies," she said pleasantly.

"Oh? How wonderful," the King said, also pleasantly.

"Yes, he'll be invaluable to his people when he returns to the Underground. I wanted to ask you, Majesty, to consider whether it may be permissible for me to accompany him there for a short time, to offer him my continued assistance."

Sans glanced at her in disbelief. Yes, he'd heard right, and she was smiling at him in open defiance. The skeleton had to force himself not to snarl at her. What the hell was this?

The King didn't seem much happier with the idea than he was. "That may not be wise, Your Eminence," he replied. "I wish relations between our nations were at a point where such a venture would be possible, but I have been made to understand that my brother monarch is no longer inclined to receive human emissaries. We must consider your personal safety."

"Of course." Frisk sipped her wine, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "It's a pity you couldn't have visited with the last delegation, Majesty. I'm sure you would have enjoyed catching up with King Asgore."

From the King's stiffened back and tightened mouth, Sans guessed that it was one of those polite little conversational bitch-slaps humans were so good at. He wasn't sure about dishing one out to the actual King, but the old man seemed to recover well enough. "Indeed," he said. "I'm sure your pupil will prove capable."

Frisk inclined her head, earrings swaying. "I hope this will be the case, Your Majesty, and that the knowledge he gains from us will be useful enough to prove our good intentions to his King."

The conversation moved right along from there, but Sans was barely listening. He made the correct noises when Gaius started babbling at him about the book he was reading about people fighting each other with giant cats or swords or something; he sort of laughed at Stephin's jokes; he let the High Priestess tell them about the things they were working on. "Sans says there are magic flowers in the Underground that will repeat whatever you say back to you, and to the next person who touches their petals," she informed the young Prince.

"It'll repeat anything?" Gaius asked eagerly, no doubt plotting the sort of words he'd say.

"Any sound at all. If I ever make it to the Underground, shall I bring one back for you?"

The boy agreed so enthusiastically that he started coughing, and dinner was brought to an end by the arrival of dessert: apple turnovers. Sans took several, mind still buzzing, though he noticed that, like the rest of the food, the things were pretty damn tasty. So was she messing with him, or trying to throw him off so he would be too distracted to do something rude or scary?

No, she knew exactly what she was doing: as they bowed their way out and returned to her workroom, her head stayed high, and she carried herself to her dressing room with absolute certainty. Frisk came out in her robe and stopped in front of Sans, who was blocking the bathroom door. "Yes?" she asked rhetorically.

"Oh, nothin'. I'm just tryin' ta figure out what's wrong with my ears. It sure sounded ta me like you told His Majesty that ya don't care if my Majesty wants to rip your heart out 'n eat it."

The priestess feigned dismay. "I'm so sorry to tell you this, Sans, but...your ears, they're—"

"Not now!" Sans jammed his hands into his pockets, leaning down to look her in the face. "I already told ya, I'm not takin' you with me! Ya got that?"

"I got it." Frisk crossed her arms at the waist. On a hunch, the boss monster checked her SOUL—oh, fuck, it was already that bright? And her determination was still rising. "That's really unfortunate. It'll make getting in a lot more difficult for me, not to mention dangerous," she added.

The boss monster ground his teeth. "Ya know what's not hard or dangerous? Keepin' yer ass away from the Underground!"

She smiled, and said, "No."

Sans was at a complete loss. He had never heard anything more definite than that one word. "Why 'no'?" he asked, incredulity overtaking his anger for a moment. "Do ya really not trust me to teach the others the stuff I'm learnin'?"

"That's not it," she replied.

"Then what the hell is it? Are ya curious? Do you wanna tell everyone yer mom said hi or somethin'?!"

"No." Frisk's arms dropped to her sides. "I want to tell them that I say hi." She smiled again, but in a wistful, absolutely unyielding way. "Thank you for being so patient with me the past few days, Sans. I haven't..." Her smile disappeared, one hand brushing her hair back and the other curling into a fist. "I lied to you. I lied to everyone, but I should've told you the truth already. I..." She swallowed, her pulse racing so that he could see it in her throat. "I opened the box, Sans."

The clock ticked. The fire hissed and popped.

"No you didn't," the boss monster said blankly. "The doc threw it out for ya."

"He threw it away after I opened it," she said, enunciating each word carefully. "After our dream, I woke up, I opened the box, and I took out this little orb inside it—" Frisk made a small circle of her thumb and forefinger to illustrate its size. "I made a barrier. I stuck the orb into it, and when I pulled the barrier back in, the memories came with it."

The skeleton felt as if someone had opened the top of his skull and vigorously swished his brains around, then slammed the top back on. "So...?"

"So I gave him the box out in the hallway in front of the guards, and we acted as though I'd never opened it." Frisk swallowed again. "It's been coming back to me in bits and pieces, but now I know what happened. Mostly. And I am telling you—" Her face hardened until she was almost unrecognizable. "I am going back to the Underground, with or without you. I'm going to see everyone again or die trying. I am not exaggerating, Sans. Do you understand me?"

"Hell fucking no, I don't understand you!" Sans' foot rose and hit the floor so hard that, even with the slipper on, he felt a board crack beneath the carpeting. "Whaddya mean, 'go back'? Are ya makin' shit up 'cause you have some kind of death wish?"

She was breathing rapidly, her throat still pulsing. "A death wish? How many times has someone tried to kill me here, Sans, even in my own bedroom? If I go with you, at least I'll have someone to hide behind!"

"I'm not takin' ya anywhere more dangerous than the candy shop, or whatever other shit you wanna get next." He snorted. "'sat why you've been buyin' all that crap? Are ya gonna play Father Christmas an' bring everyone in the Underground a buncha presents?"

"Yes," she snapped. Sans was seriously considering teleporting in order to avoid wrecking something when Frisk went on, "Think about it. Who do you think the targets are for? Do you want Undyne destroying your front window again because she got carried away and forgot that Monster Kid couldn't catch any of her spears? Then Papyrus had to send her home because she treated cleanup like another challenge and kept pounding the glass instead of sweeping it up."

Cold shock poured down Sans' spine. "Wha...how—"

"The magic stones are for Alphys to study. She's probably starved for more plays to read, and she can act them out with the new figurines, but she'll have to share the scripts with Mettaton. The luxury goods are mostly for him, and a few are for Toriel. Does she still have trouble with the skin itching at the base of her horns? Either way, I also got her some books on teaching. I'll leave the tea service outside Asgore's door with a note on it—shall I go on?"

"This isn't funny!" Sans was breathing heavily, too. "What—how the fuck d'you know all that? None of the humans were there when Undyne broke the window! It was just us an'..."

"And Kris."

Sans shook his head wildly, stumbling back until he bumped into the bathroom door. "This is messed up, Frisk! Ya found Kris and didn't even tell me?! How long were you gonna sit on that?!"

"I only just found out, and I'm telling you now," she said firmly.

Sans' SOUL felt sick, and ecstatic, and so scared that he wanted to hurt something. "Okay. Great. Perfect. What are you tellin' me now, Frisk? Where is he? Is he okay? What else did he tell you?"

Frisk shut her eyes. She opened them. "We don't give Papyrus enough credit," she commented. "He figured it out before I did, and you still don't—"

"Would you fucking stop the cryptic bullshit an' spit it out already?!"

"Fine! I'm Kris!"

Another crystallized moment. Sans felt his head move back and forth, back and forth, on its own. "Shut up."

"I'm not joking."

More shaking, spreading down his frame. "What the hell, Frisk," he muttered, almost more disappointed than angry.

"They brought me along to see how the monsters would treat a child, as a guinea pig," she spat. "Why do you think I was allowed to spend so much time with you completely unsupervised?"

"Just knock it off, Frisk! Kris was a friggin' boy!"

"Kris had short hair and wore boys' clothes! It's not the same thing!"

"God damn it, Kris was, what, four or five—"

"None of you ever asked me how old I was! I was ten, thank you, but I was so malnourished that I probably looked like a toddler!"

Sans dropped to a squat, resting his elbow on his knee and his hand over his face. "I don't fuckin' believe this. Didja get brainwashed, or is this some kinda joke?"

"Why in God's name would I or anyone else joke about this, Sans?!"

"I don't fucking know!" Sans slammed his fist into his femur so hard that Frisk jumped. "Ya know what? We're done here. I'm goin' to bed." He got up, hobbling a little to move past her. "Have fun in yer little fantasy world. Lemme know when—"

"Do you want to see my stripes?"

Sans stopped as though he'd run into a brick wall. He could feel his sockets burning red-orange as his SOUL tried to yank him backwards. Sans slowly turned to look at Frisk, who hadn't moved, her back still to him.

Stripes. Sans watched, too heartsick to speak, as the young woman opened the neck of her robe and began easing it off her shoulders.

It wasn't entirely Papyrus' fault. Sans should have been keeping at least one socket on them, but it was late and he was busy on the floor with some very important dozing. A pillow came flying at him, and he caught it with his eyes still closed, sending it end over end back at Papyrus.

"NYEH HEH! WELL DONE, BROTHER! (PSST! HUMAN! LET'S HIT HIM WITH THE SPECIAL ATTACK NEXT!)"

Kris giggled. "Okay," he whispered, somehow even louder than Pap.

"ARE YOU READY TO SURPRISE HIM? VERY WELL! ONE! TWO! ...WHOOPSIE!"

Sans did not see what happened next, but he did hear the distinctive sound of a full glass of water being knocked flying, and sighed, opening his eyes.

"ACK! YOU ARE WET, HUMAN! SANS! PLEASE ASSIST KRIS BEFORE HE MELTS!"

"I'm gonna melt?!"

"probably. i dunno." Sans got up and beckoned to the child, who was holding his shirt away from his body in obvious panic. "you go get a towel, pap, and i'll find the squirt something dry to wear."

That got him a smile. Sans led the way to his own room, where he probably had a clean shirt somewhere. He switched the light on and selected a likely suspect from the top of the laundry pile. "here we go. survival of the fittest, amirite, kiddo? heh. gimme your shirt, and we'll put it over—"

Kris had already pulled his shirt off. He was painfully thin compared to the other humans Sans had seen, but as the kid turned to wring the wet shirt out – all over the carpet, sigh – it wasn't his protruding ribs or spine that brought Sans up short. It was the livid pink and too-white lines criss-crossing each other in the middle and lower parts of the little human's back, with one or two errant marks near his shoulders.

Scars. Those were scars. Someone had hurt the kid so badly that it'd messed up his skin for the rest of his life. How could—

Sans didn't mean to stare, but Kris looked up and caught his gaze, and the absolute worst part was that he smiled, and laughed a little. "You're lucky. None of your stripes probably show."

"stripes?" the skeleton repeated.

"Yeah." The child's tone was so casual that Sans' SOUL hurt. "It's okay. Mama told Cook to stop leaving so many marks."

Sans gestured, almost mechanically, for Kris to raise his arms. The child did so, and Sans pulled the dry shirt down over his head, tugging it down until the hem almost reached Kris' knobby knees. Then the monster did something that confused the human quite a bit: he leaned forward and put his arms around the child, resting his hand on Kris' head. "no one gets stripes around here, pal," he said into the human's fleshy ear.

Pause. "They don't?" queried Kris.

"nah. it's a very important monster rule: no stripes. if anyone tries to give you any more, you just send 'em to me and pap. we'll explain the rule for you." Very, very thoroughly, he thought, gritting his teeth.

"Oh. Okay." Kris dutifully put his arms around Sans, with a slightly puzzled air. "Thanks, Sans."

Holy moly, did the poor kid not know how hugs worked? What the actual hell was wrong with humans? The skeleton stood up and held his hand out. "c'mon, kiddo. let's go tell pap your skin melted."

"Okay!" Back on familiar ground, Kris hopped up and down. "Can we tell Toriel my skin melted?"

"haaa ha ha ha no."

And they'd gone back to Pap's room, and Pap had immediately bought it, and they'd snickered while he lost his mind about what Toriel was going to say and whether they could make some new skin for him out of paper. Sans had pointed out that that would make bathtime problematic, and—

And Sans had never, ever told anyone about the "stripes."

And now he was watching a beautiful young woman ease her robe all the way down to the small of her back, and there was the same pattern of scars, the same long, thin pink and white lines he'd seen on Kris twelve years ago. "It's not a trick," she said, her voice a little too calm and steady. "You can touch them if you still don't believe me."

"I believe you," he said roughly, but he couldn't help himself: a second later, Frisk jumped as his phalange grazed the spot where the most lines intersected. "Shit! Sorry. Sorry!" Sans snatched his hand away. "I...I believe ya, I swear. I just—"

"It's all right. Go ahead." She turned her head enough for him to see her attempt a smile. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

Liar. Sans sat down and crossed his legs, accepting the pain where he'd hit himself. He turned his hand and very gently ran the side of his forefinger down her back, starting at the velvety, unbroken skin below her neck and across the bumpy scar tissue. Then he did what he'd seen her do too many times and wiped his eyes on his sleeve, where the red wouldn't show. "So...Kris, huh?"

"That's me." Frisk's voice cracked. She was clutching the robe against her front, so that he could only see the graceful lines of her shoulders, and the marks someone had put on the sweetest kid, the best person anyone could ever meet.

"They had to remove my memories at St. Brigid's," she continued. "My father didn't go with the delegation because his wife was about to deliver and had already been sick. She died while we were on our way to the Underground, and he started checking on all of his illegitimate children. After they made me leave with the others, I was sent to the convent to be educated, and I was a mess." She swallowed twice. "All I wanted was to go back to the Underground. It didn't matter how many times they told me the monsters didn't want another human down there. I wouldn't eat, I wouldn't sleep, I just kept—"

"What the fuck! Of course we wanted ya there!" Sans slammed his fist into the floor. "Do you have any idea how much everyone missed you?!"

"Yes! And I wanted to go back just as much!" Frisk's facade was crumbling rapidly. She hadn't pulled up her robe yet, possibly because her hands were clenched too tightly. "I didn't know if everyone was all right after the accident! No one would tell me anything!"

"No. They tore it all outta your head instead." Sans ground his eye sockets into his sleeve again. "An' ya got it back, and you've keepin' it to yerself?"

"I'm sorry!" The pain in her voice was so raw that Sans flinched. "I'm sorry! Kris wasn't real, it was just me! And no, I didn't tell you any of this! I was so scared of what you'd say, if you'd believe me or not—"

He hadn't. He hadn't believed her. She'd had to get half naked to prove it. If Sans could have ripped his SOUL out and punched it, he would have done so right then and there. "Whaddya mean, it's 'just you'?" he demanded, rougher than he meant to.

Her head drooped, leaving a long curve of neck and shoulder that the stupider parts of him couldn't stop staring at. His instincts were starting to kick in: she was hurting, she needed him, she'd already showed him this much skin and let him touch her—

Sans' whole body twitched as another thought crashed in: the fortune. Her second fortune.

The pain of that sorrow and regret will be unbearable for a time, and they will not be yours alone.

But the rest of it, the joy and power, and a child—

Frisk buried her face in her hands, shaking her head harder and harder. "I have to go back, Sans. I have to! Please, Sans, take me home with you! I just want to go home! Please—"

Sans didn't think, he acted. Frisk gasped as he turned her around and opened his overcoat to sweep her under it before he put his arms around her, holding her as tight as he dared. "Okay," he said, swiping at his eyes again. "Okay, kitten. I'll take you with me. We'll both go, and we'll tell everyone you're back." After all, the monsters – especially the King – would never accept the humans' High Priestess trying to cozy up to them, but they just might listen to Kris, especially when she was returning Sans to them safe, bringing food and gifts. They wouldn't let Asgore hurt her.

That was the difference in her fortunes. The other humans had done too good a job of erasing "Kris" and turning Frisk into the ideal High Priestess. If she hadn't been brave enough to remember everything—

This wasn't fair! He already loved her so much, and now this? What was he supposed to do?

Right now, he just held her as she buried her face in his new shirt and gave vent to huge, racking, wailing sobs, finally letting out years of grief. He allowed her to cry until she started hiccuping, and then he started petting her hair and just a little down her neck and shoulders, nothing objectionable—all he needed to do to quash his sex drive was think of Kris smiling ruefully about his "stripes." The bones of his face itched where the red kept trickling down, but the sky could have started falling, and he wouldn't have moved before she was ready.

[punainenpuolukka]

Oh, the Thing with the Ghosts, the Boys, and the Car?

This is a weird one, a confession of sorts. A confession that I might come to regret come tomorrow (when I'll probably be watching the new episode). This time I truly can’t explain.

Part 3. I sort of like Bucklemming and I’m sorry about that

Look, I know that the overall consensus in this fandom, which is so divided and gets up on arms with the drop of a hat, is that Bucklemming is the worst. Even I think, say, and joke how Bucklemming is the worst. Repeatedly. Before and after a Bucklemming episode I think “Eh, it’s Bucklemming”. Recently, when season 12 reruns aired on TV here, around 2 am or so with double episodes to boot, I remember thinking that there was something deeply wrong with the episode and I couldn’t understand why it was so awkward and painful to watch, until I checked who wrote it, it was Brad Buckner and Eugenie Ross-Lemming of course, and suddenly it all made so much more sense. People are reminded to lower their expectations before their episodes just so that there would be minimum amount of (collective) disappointment. We all know the drill pretty well, don’t you think?

The thing is, I don’t hate Bucklemming episodes. In fact, I quite like some of them.

No, don’t get me wrong, quite a few of Bucklemming episodes are bad, just flat out bad, there’s no excuse, but I still don’t hate any of them. They tend to be a bit thin on the subtext, they are funny but the humour is based on awkward situations and stereotypes stretched to extremes. A lot of things happen in a short amount of time both to their detriment as well as their advantage, as sometimes the story doesn’t have time to breath but at least it keeps the audience at the edge of their seat. Also, the revelations in their episodes are liked dropped anvils and so exceptionally blunt there is very little room for interpretation, which I occasionally appreciate since I’m dumb. Just so dumb. Quite like many Bucklemming episodes. In addition, even the episodes that I would consider to be poor in quality for them (and Supernatural as whole) tend to have at least one good thing, even if it sometimes is just the premise, which admittedly might not be their doing. Nonetheless, the overall quality of Bucklemming episodes I’ll watch them gladly, maybe with a little less attention than normal, but regardless for me my love for the whole show overrides cringe of their episodes any day. 

And Bucklemming episodes are plenty cringey. Like the bad kind of cringe that makes me wonder that even if the they wrote the episode, there were several people taking part of making the episode that went “I guess it’s okay”, and still nobody mentioned that maybe this is actually the worst idea (I’m referring to 8.15 Man’s Best Friend with Benefits, as in the one with witches and their familiars,  which writing-wise is not the worst, plotwise pretty solid if I recall, but the final product is just, um, calling it highly questionable is far too kind). Sometimes Bucklemming in combination with some directors (yes, I’m especially talking about Robert Singer, we all know why) somehow conjure up a legitimately bad episode of Supernatural consisting of multiple minor things that alone are not that bothersome but together ruin everything. You know, like killing a beloved character in a way that is not only remarkably horrific and cruel but also unnecessary, which leads to the question am I talking about Kevin, Charlie, or maybe Eileen? These episodes are the ones that make me ask “why, just why”, but I also tend to forget the truly terrible stuff pretty much by the end of the episode. It’s generally not important, or more accurately, the execution of it is not important, so I just don’t think about it unless someone mentions it. However the truly terrible stuff is discussed a lot. Of course it should be, critiquing is very important part of media consumption, but even then, sometimes it’s better to just let go. Just forget and move on.

Now that I’ve discussed why Bucklemming is bad, which, let’s be honest, was not necessary at all since we all know and didn’t even touch their creepy, rapey stuff, but I’m very insecure and felt I needed to agree with the consensus before I bring up my positive outlook on things and insist that not only Buckner and Ross-Lemming are capable writers, some of their episodes are not only very enjoyable but also actually quite good. Of course enjoyability is subjective, so there’s no guarantee that others think the same. Unfortunately, there is no time to go through all Bucklemming episodes, and not all of them are worth going through at all, since most of them are just ‘meh’, but regardless, I’d like to present some of my favourites.

8.03 Heartache

This is the episode of Supernatural I actively spend thinking the most. And it’s a lot. It highlights the tragedy of immortality and how you cannot really create connections with others because eventually they will wither away and die but you remain the same. Of course in this case the immortal Mayan athlete also had to sacrifice human hearts in exchange for his immortality, which his wife knew and seemed to accept so that they could be together, which raises the question of how she could close her eyes for so long to the atrocities her husband committed just so they could be together since she didn’t seem malicious at all, nor was she resentful of her husband taking his own life so suddenly. She seemed almost relieved that she didn’t have to worry for him anymore, and when her time comes she could rest in peace. Curiously, her husband was not really allowed to rest as the people who had gotten the organ transplants from him sort of continued his life and wanted to be immortal like him and get all the other benefits he had. It’s so tragic and twisted that what is the greatest gift you can give to a stranger corrupts them and what was supposed to save their lives eventually ruins them. The whole episode is a surprisingly original take on the immortal lover trope, and it doesn’t hurt that it does the patented Supernatural trick of mirroring single episode characters with the main ones, this time connecting the immortal athlete who died and Cas, also sort of immortal who “died” recently. 

10.16 Paint it Black

This episode is a very curious episode as whole. In a sense, it’s sort of average MoW episode with relatively strong plot but it has the sort of escalation that I appreciate greatly. I mean we’ve had so many vengeful ghosts that target the same kind of demographic, but there is something in this episode that tickles my fancy just right. Also, I cannot really describe the weird joyous horror when the ghost nun in the past cuts her finger so that her blood and bone can be ground up and used in her portrait. She seemed to do it with such glee that it’s a wonder that the painter didn’t see all the red flags in her behaviour (though he was an Italian man, an artist and full of himself, maybe girls cut off their body parts of for him nonstop). It was such a delight. In addition, Dean, who at the time had the Mark of Cain and was once again spiralling deeper into depression and desperation, visits confession and reveals that now that he is about to die (yeah, that doesn’t seem to stick, but I digress) he regrets not experiencing things perhaps for the first time. And we still don’t know what those things are.

An honorary mention goes to episode 1.13 Route 666, which is not really one of my favourites, but I also remember very little of it, other than the general description of it, which amuses me to no end: It’s the racist truck episode. It sounds so dumb, and it was, of course, but I have a fond memories of it regardless. Or maybe fond feelings since barely remember what happens in it. 

So, I like Bucklemming, sort of and on occasion, and I don’t think everything the dreadful duo writes is worth the derision they get. I’ve learnt to live with them, maybe it would help if others tried to live with them too, and accommodate their expectations and try to find the good things in the episodes instead of focusing on the bad ones. And if the Bucklemming episodes are a disappointment then they are. Move on. Life is already a disappointment, 40 minutes of disappointment won’t make it worse. Also, I really like the word ‘Bucklemming’, so that’s a plus, and a reason why repeat it constantly. Though I still wish that Bucklemming would just stop with the creeps.

[jiwo159-blog]

Samsung Galaxy Fit Survey – Is this the Best Fitness Tracker Around?

Samsung is one of the pioneers and worldwide pioneers in the assembling of shrewd gadgets which are useful for everybody. At whatever point Samsung present some item, it turns into a gigantic accomplishment in the market. The equivalent is the situation with its everything new Samsung Galaxy Fit. Fitness items are another sort of brilliant gadgets which have made some amazing progress in assisting the individuals from varying backgrounds. These savvy fitness gadgets are convenient in checking a wide range of exercises nonstop. The information gathered from these gadgets can be broke down. It additionally is useful in finding the up and coming wellbeing threats to the clients. From strolling exercises, running and during rest, the gadgets can follow all the real angles with respect to various wellbeing parameters.

Why Samsung Galaxy Fit?

Samsung has delivered such a large number of shocking and valuable shrewd gadgets throughout the years that there is no uncertainty that it are the world chief. The items by Samsung are truly dependable and early. The organization tends to deliver very good quality gadgets that don't disillusion the clients, regardless of whether it is the plan or reasonableness of utilization. It is additionally the innovator and presents a great deal of new advancements that become the business standard with the progression of time. A few times on account of this explanation the items be Samsung are will in general be somewhat high in cost however worth every penny. The equivalent is the situation with its everything new the Galaxy Fit, which has a cost of $99.99, however it offers a great deal of employments and colossally important.

Ordinary Tracker :

It can follow every one of the exercises like advance tally, separation, and so on. It screens the reaction of the various organs of the body and track the pulse, and lay down with pinpoint exactness. Its eye-getting configuration is smooth, in vogue and exceptionally down to earth being used. The client can wear it easily pretty much consistently all the time with no breaking points. One is in day by day schedule work or a rec center; it can remain in any condition. The gadget has a smooth interface, and every one of the information can be gathered and broke down by its delicate products effectively. The battery life is so great and can last as long as multi week in remain by temperament. Samsung claims it to be a passage level fitness tracker, yet the introduction is of expert level.

Plan:

The Galaxy Fit is by all accounts looking like other Samsung GPS beacons however has a great deal of enhancements in its size and common sense. The looks are taking after the Samsung's Rigging Fit2 Star yet are progressively minimized with its aluminum case which estimates just 1.70 x 0.72 x 0.44 inches. It can fit any wrist size and look up-to-date surely. Its rich structures weigh just 0.8 ounces which makes it light and agreeable to wear for the duration of the day.

 Fit has been presented in only two distinct hues. The stone dark and silver are the fundamental hues that are extremely appealing with dark silicone and white wristbands individually.

Show:

The Fit is furnished with the most recent industry-standard AMOLED shading show that estimates just 0.95 inches. The little size is enormous enough to demonstrate the numerous insights on one go. It has a goals of 240 by 120 pixels, and the substance looks clear and energetic. The entire unit is water-safe up to 5ATM, so it is sheltered to wear it in the shower or during swimming.

Specialized Details:

The Fit is structured with an entirely solid MCU Cortex M33F processor. Moreover, there is an accelerometer, a gyrator, and a pulse screen. The working framework keeps running in the continuous operating system, that is made is perfect with both the Android and iOS. The clients can associate the calls and furthermore the SMS spring up on the screen, which is extremely useful in ordinary use. In occupied occasions one can set the as a matter of course back rubs or client characterized to answer naturally to the approaching calls or SMS.

The Interface:

The Fit's interface is smooth and simple to explore, which demonstrates all the primary highlights be default or chosen. The highest point of the screen demonstrates the various images for the showed or apportioned checking frameworks like a heartbeat, step tally and battery status. To explore with the various cautions, one needs to swipe the screen right or left. The power and wake up catch is on the left side and clients can look over such a significant number of various methods of employments like setting the splendor, telephone discoverer, swimming mode, don't irritate temperament, and so on.

Information Examination by Programming:

The bundle accompanies the supporting programming, which gathers and procedure the information. The distinctive assortment of gadgets demonstrates such huge numbers of various parameters in all the day exercises even can screen the rest modes. The pressure gadget screens the feelings of anxiety for the duration of the day and fines tune the working conditions for and person. Extra alternatives incorporate caffeine admission, schedule, calories consumed, pulse, steps, stopwatch and clock, and water consumption.

Battery life and Exactness :

The battery life, as indicated by Samsung the Galaxy Fit can last as long as seven days relying upon utilization because of its 120mAh battery. The Galaxy Fit is no uncertainty on of the best gadget with the precision standard, which is so strong in execution. It can naturally check the various situations of strolling running and rest. For indoor and open air, the principle distinction accompanies estimations like strolling quick or gradually. The Galaxy Fit's pulse screen is likewise exceptionally precise. As the unit keeps running on a live working framework, it gauges the pulse with very nearly zero mistakes and cautions in over work conditions. It additionally screens the rest cycle precisely and can separate the distinctive rest examples, and clients can see a diagram of rest stages like REM, light, and profound rest.

 https://www.techandgeek.com/samsung-galaxy-fit-review-is-this-the-best-fitness-tracker-around/

https://www.techandgeek.com/acer-aspire-5-review-light-weight-and-15-incher-in-399/

https://www.techandgeek.com/dell-xps-13-review-supports-4k-hdr-dolby-vision/

https://medium.com/@rosefoster746/samsung-galaxy-fit-survey-is-this-the-best-fitness-tracker-around-5cc3a91c22c2

[iwroteinapastlife]

In Denial

For @mlrarepairmonth day 5, I’ve got another ChloNath Fake Dating AU update!

Day 5: In Denial

Ship: Chloé x Nathaniel

cw: Alcohol consumption

Checking over everything one last time—he was sure there was still at least one typo still in there—Nathaniel finally uploaded the new chapter online and shut his laptop. Finding time to work on his comic since coming here had been near impossible, but thankfully the lull of December 26th had finally allowed him enough space to pump out that week’s chapter. Now he could put it away and stop worrying about it until he was back in France.

As his laptop screen shut off, Nathaniel was suddenly plunged into unexpected darkness. When he had started, it was still well within daylight hours. He hadn’t even noticed the sun going down.

…When was the last time he ate?

Nathaniel could hear the TV playing another Christmas movie as he made his way downstairs, so even before he pulled his phone out of his pocket, he knew it couldn’t be later than 9. 8:43. Okay, so at least he only missed one meal this time. Not the worst he’d done.

“I think you’re just in denial.”

“What??”

“Seconded.”

As he rounded the corner into the kitchen, the voices of Chloé, Isabella, and Marianne progressively got louder.

“Aren’t you two even listening?” Isabella complained. “He isn’t even that cute.”

“But he is cute,” Chloé fired back.

“And you spend practically all of your free time with him,” Marianne continued.

“I do not!”

“But he is the one you’ve been texting nonstop, isn’t he?”

From the window in the kitchen wall, Nathaniel could see the three of them sitting at the far end of the dining room table snacking on cheese, crackers, and chocolate as they made their way through the first of several bottles of wine sitting on the table next to them. Chloé’s hair was still down around her shoulders and her smile as she teased her cousin was infectious, eyes practically sparkling with joy.

“Yeah, but not about anything important! Just random mundane life shit.”

“Izzy, that only hurts your case even more,” her sister rebuked.

“Yep,” Chloé agreed. “You two are definitely dating.”

Isabella slumped down, forehead thumping on the table. “Oh my god we’re dating,” she whined miserably. The other two burst into bubbling laughter.

Nathaniel smiled. He could see that light pink tone in Chloé’s cheeks that she got when she’d been laughing steadily over an extended period of time. It probably had to do with the wine, but she looked so much more comfortable and unrestrictedly happy than she had nearly the entire trip. Seeing her so freely laughing with her cousins… It was beautiful.

“Ah I see tonight is wine night.” Nathaniel nearly jumped out of his skin as Jasmine suddenly materialized behind him, watching over his shoulder. She chuckled as he turned to her. “Wow, you spook easily. I’ll have to remember that.”

He gave her a brief glare before turning back to the window. “So they do this often?”

She nodded. “Every year since Chloé turned 21. I don’t think they even mean for it to happen, but they always find the wine left over from Christmas dinner and stay up all night drinking and catching up.”

He had lost track of the conversation, but evidently it was Chloé they were embarrassing now because her face was lighting up in increasingly deep shades of red he hadn’t even seen on her before.

“You say ‘they.’ You don’t join them?”

Jasmine shrugged. “Nah. I see it as a cousin bonding thing and don’t want to interrupt.”

“What are we looking at?” Nathaniel only jumped a little bit this time (but still jumped, to his dismay and Jasmine’s delight) as Margaret stepped up behind them. “Ahh I see the tradition has passed down.”

“The others too?” Jasmine asked.

“Yep. Edith and her sisters stay up gossiping over wine once every year.”

“Must be some sort of family thing,” he mused.

Margaret stepped away to start looking through the cabinet and he and Jasmine followed suit a moment later, leaving the cousins to giggle in peace.

“I think it’s because it’s the only time they ever really get to catch up,” she said, pulling out a bag of pretzels. “This whole family is so distant, not just emotionally but physically as well with Chloé in France, Audrey away in the city, you two,” she pointed at Jasmine, “down in DC, Isabella wherever work takes her, and Edith, Ryan and I over in California. With everyone busy with work all the time, they hardly ever talk to each other outside of this house. So they have to make up for it all in one night.”

Jasmine pulled some of last night’s leftovers out of the fridge. “Not to mention that without any alcohol in their system, they all suck at communicating in general.”

He laughed. “So it’s not just Chloé?”

“No,” the other two said in unison.

“If anything,” Margaret continued, “Chloé’s explosive nature makes her one of the better communicators in the family. It may not be constructive, but at least she gets her feelings out at all.” He grimaced, making her nod in response. “Yeah, no kidding.”

“Want some?” Jasmine asked him, holding out the tub of leftovers after scooping some onto a plate for herself. “I’m guessing you skipped dinner too.”

He smiled and took it. “Thanks.”

Margaret chomped down on a pretzel and shook her head. “Every year.”

“Yep,” Jasmine replied, starting up the microwave. “That’s Limbo for you.”

[cprnashvilletn]

Things You Can Do To Be Kinder To Your Heart

Your heart works nonstop, 24/7 to circulate oxygen-rich blood throughout the body. Compared to how hard it works for you, the care it deserves and receives is inadequate. This is pretty evident from the rise in heart disease cases all across the globe, and deaths due to it. Heart disease is the leading killer of people worldwide.

Improving the health of your ticker may seem like a challenging project to undertake, but it isn’t the case. Few minor changes in your daily habits, and you are good to go.

Carry a fruit with you- Fresh fruits and vegetables, and whole-grains is what a heart-healthy diet comprises. It is a good idea to carry a piece of fruit like an apple, banana, or orange to your work so you can have it when you are hungry instead of resorting to some less-healthy options. Munching on a fruit is one of the best heart-healthy snack options.

Find opportunities to walk- We spend most of our time at the workplace sitting, and by the time we are home we are too tired to exercise. Physical activity doesn’t mean you have to join a gym or run a marathon, it could be as basic as brisk walking. It is important to sit less and move more. Take walking breaks from time to time to get out of the rut of sitting long hours behind the computer. This is good for heart health. The American Heart Association recommends 30 minutes of exercise every day.

Cut down on screen time- Put all your gadgets away at least two to three hours before heading to bed, or your sleep might be compromised which won’t hold your ticker in good stead. Inadequate sleep also increases risk for other diseases, such as obesity and diabetes, which as well can wreak havoc on your ticker. Listening to soothing music or a book may help you doze off.

Laughter is the best medicine- In the times we are in, it won’t be wrong to say that we have forgotten to laugh. Laughter actually is the best medicine in the true sense of the term as it reduces stress (chronic stress is a leading heart disease risk factor). Find any opportunity to laugh and make merry.

Cut your salt intake- Excess sodium consumption can raise blood pressure, which may boost your risk for heart disease. The best way to keep your sodium intake in check is by learning how to read food labels so that you can compare them for the content of sodium a particular food has. Accordingly you can decide which foods to buy and which you shouldn’t. Opt for brands with least amounts of sodium. Also portion control is a must. A food you are eating may not have high levels of sodium, but eating several servings of them a day will surely do more harm than good.

For CPR training, look no further than the AHA accredited CPR Nashville in Tennessee. To sign up for a class, contact CPR Nashville at (615) 638-0005. Become AHA CPR certified at the end of your class.