#like. it used to be a pretty good resource. and i’m not gonna leave the group.

[sharkieboi]

certain fb group for animal care people just makes me sad sometimes cause it’s either just people looking for engagement by asking a very easily searchable question with “cute animal pic for tax!!1!1!1!!1!” so they can get some likes or people discussing actual literal human rights violations that their workplace is trying to commit and being like “but am i the bad person for buying donuts for my team when susan in HR who i never interact with is lactose intolerant?” or people using the anonymous post option to have impromptu group therapy

[onlyswan]

dreamboat | jjk (2)

summary: aboard the dreamboat, jungkook finds himself drawn to a beautiful stranger who appears to be drowning in melancholy. weeks later, he sees her face on the other side of the aquarium at his apartment building’s lobby. he soon learns that it’s not fate’s grand romantic plans that brought you back to his life. / (alt.) / a shipwreck and a dreamboat form an unusual bond in an aquarium.

non!idoljk x f!reader (jk is a business major who works at the amusement park ; oc works at the call center) / strangers to lovers / fluff, angst, suggestive / chapter wc: 15.9k / total fic wc: 30.8k

warnings/content (for full fic): is it an onlyswan fic if nobody cries? ; smoking ; making out ; mention of nude art ; mention of flashing ; panic attack ; a ghost cameo lol ; s*x scandal ; abuse of authority ; harrassment ; jk throws a punch once ; oc drives a motorbike without a helmet once ; vminjin + yeontan cameos :3 ; tae and jk are the same age tho

<- part one (wc: 14.9k) | spotify playlist (open to song recs <3)

note: yaaay full fic is out 🥹💕 i’ve been so attached to these two for the past month i’m gonna miss them sm :( reblogs and feedback are appreciated i’d love to hear your thoughts 🥺 p.s. it does get pretty heavy so pls take care of urself while reading 🫂 hugs and kisses

—

jungkook lets out a big yawn, removing his glasses so he can wipe off the sleepy tears from his eyes. his phone pings with new text messages and he peers down at the table to read them. 

  01:18am

stop texting.

why are you still awake? you have that big presentation tomorrow. 

you need your brain functioning at full capacity so you can answer the prof’s questions.

he types out his response.

  01:20am

i want to sleep too but i’m not yet done practicing 🥲

if you’re on a mission to make him fall hopelessly in love, it would be safe to say that you’re succeeding. instead of being a distraction, here you are showing concern for his health and motivating him about his studies. he’s not used to having this kind of dynamic with the people he likes. usually he’d be stubborn and stay on his phone, but he puts it down so he can refocus on his slides. he’s excited to do his presentation well and gush about it with you at the end of the day.

twenty minutes later, a rapping at the door disrupts his concentration. 

“he better not be drunk.” he grumbles on his way to the door.

no one else would disturb him at this time but taehyung. 

but it’s not taehyung.

it’s you. 

“i didn’t wake you, did i?” 

“no, no- i was still-” he takes a glimpse at his messy desk. “practicing for the presentation… uhm, i thought you were at work?”

“we don’t have work today.”

you nonchalantly bring out a glass full of green goop from your back, encouraging him to take it.

“here, drink this.”

he stares at it in bewilderment as he slowly accepts it. “what’s this?”

“bedtime smoothie.” 

you sense his disgust and foreboding.

“there’s bananas and cherry juice in there.”

that knowledge emboldens him to take a sip. he licks off the mustache it leaves on top of his lips. “hmm, not bad!” 

“i told you so.” you send him a tight-lipped smile which disappears in two seconds. “do you want some help practicing?”

“oh, that’s right.” his eyes widen. “you’re good at speaking!”

he steps aside so you can pass through the narrow entrance. 

“please come in.”

jungkook is compelled to make himself clear. he hasn’t invested on a shelf. never found the time. his room may look like a mess to an outsider’s eyes but he has an organized system and he’s incredibly resourceful. 

“jungkook… you can’t live like this.”

is it that bad?

his jaw slacks when you pick up a plastic bag on the floor and begin throwing in the scattered empty cans and bottles of caffeine on and around his desk, including the one he hasn’t finished drinking yet. that— he won’t win defending.

“you’ll die at this rate.” you rebuke him calmly. “do you even drink water?” 

“of course i do!” he proceeds to drink the smoothie you made for him. “but you drink a lot of coffee too.”

“not anymore,” you head to his fridge after dumping the plastic bag in the trash. “i’m already adjusted to my job… i’m taking these.”

you bring out the two remaining cans of energy drinks and stuff them into the pocket of your hoodie. 

“you can’t just take them!”

you ignore his protest. “is the smoothie good? you like it, right?”

his shoulders deflate in defeat. he takes another gulp and swallows, nodding happily. “i like it.” 

“then i’ll make you an energy-boosting one when you need it. i received fruit baskets at work. they’d only go bad if i try to eat everything alone.” 

“sounds like a sweet deal,” he grins. 

he’s definitely not complaining. the artificial flavoring of the energy drinks pale in comparison to the real thing. 

“okay, let’s get started then.” you pad over to his desk. 

you hand him his laptop which is displaying his powerpoint before making yourself comfortable on his chair. 

he stands infront of you awkwardly. “we’re really doing this?”

“we are,” you reply curtly, sinking further into the chair. it’s a pretty big chair, even for him. it’s endearing to see you play around with it. “are you nervous? you can’t be nervous.”

“i’m not,” he lies. “i’m a professional!” 

you have no idea that you make him more nervous than having forty other people in the same room. 

he sighs. “hold this for me then.”

you take the glass into your hands, sipping a little. he clears his throat and pretends that didn’t affect him at all. 

“okay, let’s start… good mor-”

“wait-” you shake your head, demandingly waving your hand to the right. “wrong slide.”

—

 

“where are you? i thought you were going to help me with my project?” 

jimin, a friend he met through a school organization two years ago, begins coughing dramatically over the phone. “jungkook, i’m sorry. i’m feeling under the weather.”

jungkook grimaces, stopping on his tracks to berate him. “hyung, i can hear the dj music!”

“ah, yes…” he can practically hear the wheels in jimin’s brain turn. “actually, i’m about to leave the club! since i’m not feeling so well.”

“wow,” he huffs out a laugh. “you’re really terrible.”

“i’m serious! let’s reschedule tomorrow. i’ll buy you dinner so we can catch up too.” 

“fine,” he blows a loud breath. 

“i love you, jungkook-ah.” jimin proclaims with exaggerated affection. 

he makes a noise of disgust. “you’re really drunk.”

“oh, why aren’t you saying it back?” jimin angrily questions him. 

“maybe i will, after you buy me food.” 

“okay,” jimin cackles. “i’ll see you tomorrow then.” 

“okay, goodbye.”

he drops the call, still uncertain whether jimin was lying or not. either way, he gets a free meal and he no longer feels the need to complain.

he shrugs and continues his journey home. 

that is until he inhales the unmistakable scent of smoke from the alleyway. 

again, it could be anybody, but there’s a peculiar feeling that won’t let him move forward. deja vú is what they call it. it is often described as bittersweet, but jungkook is nervous. scared even. 

he doesn’t want his gut feeling to be right. 

he knows what your sobs sound like, their effect on him and his heart that is awfully weak when it comes to you, but he wants to be wrong so badly. 

right then and there, jungkook faces a dilemma.

those who hide do not want to be found. 

he has the choice to keep walking, pretend that he was never here. that it doesn’t hurt him to walk away. he can do what he failed to do the first time and not jump in to interpret your crying as a cry for help. 

he stands there like a fool waiting for the stars to spell out the correct answer for him to read. 

unfortunately for him, life doesn’t work that way and there isn’t even one to wish upon. 

you flicked his forehead and erased his memories. if he makes the same mistake twice, then maybe he can use that as an excuse to lessen the burden of regret. 

—

 

you flinch and lift your head in fear when something bumps against your knee, but that fear soon morphs into an entirely new fear when you perceive the person sitting infront of you. 

your bloodshot eyes make out jungkook’s features in the dim light. 

you’re no stranger to that look. you know what you look like. the cigarette tastes terrible, it doesn’t smell better with liquor either. there are teardrops on the ground and your sobs are caught in your throat and they come out as hiccups. you wouldn’t even dare to call yourself a mess, because scattered pieces of a broken whole float on the surface and sometimes miraculously wash ashore. you’re at the rock bottom being eaten alive and you’re not going anywhere else. 

“just walk away,” you croak out, pushing him away with the hand not holding the cigarette. 

he doesn’t budge. you don’t know if it’s because you’re too weak or he’s too strong. 

“i can’t leave you like this.” 

“you can,” you argue. 

“you don’t have to be alone. i’m here.” 

he holds your arms, coaxing you to recognize the sincerity in his eyes. those wide doe eyes, always shining when you reflect on their irises. you wish they could stay that way forever. you wish you could be at peace with that. 

“you can confide in me. you can use me. whatever you need to feel better. ____, please.” 

“you can’t help me.” you bluntly assert. before he begins begging. before he says more swoon-worthy words that would break down the walls you’ve built. “i appreciate the thought, but nothing you can do will make this better.” 

god knows that you’re yearning to hear them, but you still don’t know how much of it you can trust.  

“maybe i can!” he interjects. desperately. his grip on you tightens a little. it steadies your body as your mind and heart fall apart, but you feel suffocated. 

“jungkook, i don’t want to fight right now.” 

“if you just let me try, ____. i’m here for you. i swear i won’t pass judgement or-”  

“you can’t! okay? you can’t!” you break down, uncontrollable sobs making your words less coherent. “you’re just wasting your time!” 

with every morsel of strength you have left, you force yourself to stand up. an unnamed object clatters on the ground and you shove jungkook to the ground without meaning to. 

a combination of hurt and shock flashes across his face. you become racked with guilt.

however, this is what you wanted. this is for the best. you’re supposed to live a quiet life and not get too close with anyone, but you don’t cause a person this type of pain, and you don’t feel this guilty about it, if your hearts were never intertwined. 

you should be the one to walk away. 

every step you take to escape from him is heavy. you’re confused by the contradictions between your mind and heart and the last thing you need right now is confusing. what else can you do but run? 

jungkook wraps his arms around you from behind, stopping you on your tracks. 

“what are you doing?” 

the world stops for a little while.

“let g- let me go!” 

you struggle out of his embrace, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed he let you go so easily. 

“you think a hug’s going to make me feel better and fix my life? are you that naive…? wow, i envy you. if it was that easy, i wouldn’t be at this fucking dumpster with you!”

maybe you’re even angry that he did, pounding away at his chest with rigid fists to break his heart too. your throat is painful and rough from screaming but the thought of losing your voice doesn’t occur to you. apparently, you don’t care that you’re burning your lungs either. the world may very well end at this moment because that’s what it feels like. you have nothing left to lose but this vessel— and this vessel is heavy, worn-out, and incurable. 

you’re an overflowing sink of adrenaline rush, shaking and tearing apart at the seams.

“i never would’ve ruined my hair with this- this stupid color. i wouldn’t be getting cursed at by bigoted strangers because they hate my accent…” 

your forehead collapses on jungkook’s chest. a string of sobs follow the words that were forcefully uttered against your better judgment. you would’ve been fine after a smoke and a good cry, not processing anything so you can settle with being numb instead of jaded. 

“i’d still be studying. i’d become a doctor. i wouldn’t give a fuck about fishes and what they can and can’t eat.” 

—

 

for the first time, your laugh stabs him in the chest instead of making his heart flutter. 

“i’d be living a good life not being bombarded by someone who-” you hit his chest with every word spoken with gritted teeth. “wants to be the fucking hero. i don’t need you!” 

there’s no way. you don’t mean that. you’re just angry. jungkook convinces himself in his head as he openly takes the hits. he did say you could confide in him—use him—and you’re doing it right now. he just didn’t know he’d have to grow thicker skin on the spot to be what you need.

your icy glare pierces through him and renders him motionless. 

“you can’t do anything, so please, don’t feel bad for me.” you sneer. “it’s making me feel bad for you.” 

—

 

you’ve stormed off and jungkook stays right where you left him, wiping away his tears. the last time he cried was when his ex-girlfriend broke up with him. that was over a year ago, it only dawns on him now. 

you’ve been the only person in his mind since that one sunny june day. 

where he stands, the autumn winds are getting colder and the winter is fast approaching. 

just as fast your lives were weaved into a blooming wildflower did it also begin to wither. 

jungkook does want to save you, but he doesn’t want to be a hero. after all the time you’ve spent together, do you sincerely see him as someone who values self-interest most of all? the truth did come out, the snide truth, a bitter pill he can’t swallow. you don’t want to be here. he can’t save you. it can’t be possible when he’s part of the picture you can’t stomach to look at. 

“hyung,” he tries to be strong but his voice wavers, echoing the wretched state of him. “are you still at the club?” 

“i’ll turn on my location.” jimin responds without question, which jungkook is thankful for. “call me when you’re near. be safe, got it?”

“yes, hyung,” he ends the call. 

he inhales sharply, hoping that would alleviate the weight on his chest and allow him to move his feet. the heavy smell of burnt chemicals still hangs in the air. even after everything, he’s envious of the discarded stick of drug on the ground for having touched your lips. 

jungkook turns to leave, but is interrupted by a small object caught underneath his shoe. he picks it up for inspection— a blue lighter hand painted with a goldfish. 

he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

—

 

you woke up with a pounding headache, burdened with immense regret you assume. you deserve it. you don’t remember the exact words you said but you only scream when you don’t know what you’re talking about. you pushed away the only person who cared enough to sit with you in the dark. the line between right and wrong is blurring. you don’t know what you’re doing with your life anymore, if you’re doing anything so that it could be heading somewhere.  

you thought life couldn’t possibly get worse, but here you are anxiously nibbling at your nails as you wait for a man to reply to your texts because you’re scared of losing him.

  08:25am

jungkook i'm sorry about what happened last night i never meant to act that way and hurt you. i was out of my mind

i know you really care about me and i'm grateful for that

please forgive me

  09:13am

[attached image]

you gaze wistfully into the aquarium. the fishes swim around with considerably more energy after their breakfast, and it drives you to wonder if jungkook fed them dinner. last night was the first night you received no messages from jungkook, not even an image alone. 

“i think i fucked it up with your dad.”  

you spot dahlia, and clementine, and coral, and tangerine… blissfully unaware of you drowning in misery.

accordingly, the wildcard emerges from the shipwreck. it swims to you, the glass acting as the barrier that prevents it from kissing your nose. 

it doesn’t do this to jungkook, so you like to think that you’re special. you feel guilty that you failed to treat it the same.

“poor thing,” you hang your head in shame, sniffling. “we haven’t even named you yet.”

—

 

you learned from the new security guard on the night shift that jungkook requested for her to take over feeding for the meantime. three more days pass without any sign or trace of him, and yet you still send him your good morning pictures and you hang out at the lobby waiting for him to come home. 

he has to come home soon. 

he still lives here… right?

  11:47pm  

how long will you ignore me?  

where are you? i'll come to you   

please, let’s talk

 

you jolt on your seat when your phone vibrates with a ping!

  12:01am

jungkook:

meet me at the rooftop

 

you are charged with joy and relief as much as confusion. 

there’s… a rooftop? 

—

 

you stand at the door staring at jungkook’s back, gathering all courage to face him despite your shame eating away at you.

“i didn’t know tenants were allowed here.”

“we’re not,”

he looks back at you, and surprisingly enough, his charming smile melts away your anxiety. you can’t tell if that’s a good thing or bad thing. it’s not right for you to fall in love.

“why are you still standing there?” he chuckles. he sits on a low table with his legs crossed, feet tucked beneath his thighs. he pats the space next to him. “here, sit.” 

with a nod, you close the door behind you. you sit beside him, but with considerable distance, like the first time you sat next to each other. 

“the view is quite nice.”

in consideration of the time, you didn’t expect so many lights. they look like shining stars from where you are, only that you can actually reach for them if you try. you even spot a ferris wheel. although, you’re not certain if it’s from the amusement park jungkook works at.

“it is, isn’t it?”

“do you go up here often?”

“not since the aquarium became our spot.” 

our spot.

you smile to yourself, eyes falling on your lap as you mindlessly fiddle with your fingers. 

“i’m sorry… for what happened.” you pause to swallow the lump in your throat, breathing shakily. 

as ever, it’s difficult to apologize to someone and agree that there are dispensable parts of you. you’re scared that you might cry again infront of him. it never ends well. 

“i-i was having a bad day, and i didn’t want to drag you down with me. but i got overwhelmed by my emotions and i said words i didn’t mean. you didn’t deserve that. i’m sorry.” 

“hey, i understand.” he replies kindly. “it’s also my fault.”

“no, it’s not.” you jump in, not being able to stand him taking blame. “you’re a really good person, jungkook.”

he shakes his head. “i should’ve backed off when you told me to leave.” 

“but i do like being with you.” 

“and you mean that?”

he gazes at you with those endearing doe eyes. you look somewhere else to quell the funny feeling in your heart. 

“of course i do.”

jungkook crosses the distance between you, teasingly bumping his shoulder against yours. “i like being with you too.”

just an hour ago you thought you’d lost him, now he’s here effortlessly making you laugh. perhaps you do take life too seriously, submissive to fear. you weren’t always like this. you wish you could unlearn the new way that you function. 

“so do you forgive me or should i grovel more?” 

“i forgive you.” he rolls his eyes. “i’m not that mean.” 

“apparently i’m the mean one between us.”

“you are,” he chuckles, leaning back and balancing himself with his hands anchored behind on the table. 

for some sick reason, this new position of his leaves you hot and bothered. thankfully, you’ve mastered the art of maintaining a calm demeanor. albeit, it’s not always that you use it for this reason.

“you seriously hurt my feelings back there, you know that?”

“i’m so sorry. i’m really, really sorry.” you apologize more expressively within the more comfortable space the both of you created. “…when is your birthday?”

his forehead wrinkles in confusion at the random question. “why?”

“you’re my friend.” you point out. “we should know these things at least.”

“it’s on september one.” 

“what?!” 

he blinks innocently. “what?” 

“it’s already november!” you point out, taken aback by the fact that you totally missed it. “why didn’t you tell me?”

“you were busy with work. besides, it wasn’t a big deal. i just had beer and meat with my friends.” he shrugs, brushing it off. “when’s yours?”

you rise on your feet, dust off your bottom, and begin marching towards the door.

“where are you going…? yah, ____!”

“i need to do something.” you vaguely inform him, waving your hand. “stay there! wait for me!” 

—

 

“what’s taking so long?” jungkook thinks out loud, scratching his head. 

it’s been fifteen minutes since you left. you couldn’t have forgotten about him already, could you? that might hurt him worse than when you were screaming and punching his chest. he slept over at taehyung’s dorm for a few nights, hoping to find some peace and clarity within a different space, but he was pretty much ready to forgive you when you texted him to apologize, then followed it up with a photo of coral eating. however, taehyung went on and on about his wounded pride, and maybe he did want to see you grovel and feel that he is at some level of importance to you. 

he perks up when the door opens and your head pops out of nowhere, peeking. when did you put on a cap and face mask? did you go out? anyway, you’re so cute, he gushes to himself. 

“close your eyes!” 

“why would i do that?”

“just do it!” you demand with an angry pout. 

“okay, okay- fine!” he surrenders. “i’m closing them now.” 

“no peeking. i see your eyelashes moving.”

“how do you even see from there?!” 

he hears your scoff and the clicking of your shoes as you walk. “you’re not sleek, you know?” 

a series of rustling. a mystery object placed on the table. he gets a whiff of your perfume, powdery and fruity sweet, the next second, you’re tying a silk scarf over his eyes. 

“what’s happening?” he laughs nervously. 

he knows that is not what’s happening, but the impure thoughts enter his mind anyway. 

“i need a minute.” 

you sit beside him, your knee bumping against his. he hears more movements take place. 

“can i remove it now?”

“i said a minute.”

he frowns impatiently. “a minute has passed though.”

“no, it hasn’t.” you counter. “now hush and cover your ears.”

“cover my ears?” he repeats to make sure he heard you correctly.

“yes!”

“why?” he whines. “what is this about?”

“just do it, please?” you plead with him sweetly, covering his ears with your hands as if to demonstrate. 

and since he’s already too deep into this, he obeys your third instruction. he puts his hands over yours, and then you slip away, leaving him covering his ears the way that you wanted. 

“okay, you can look now!”

jungkook removes the scarf over his eyes, and discovers a sight so beautiful, he wants to cry that he can’t permanently capture it in a polaroid. 

this is the first time he’s seeing you in this light, the warm orange glow of birthday candles that paints you spellbinding golden. you’re beaming at him, with a rare smile that reaches your eyes, as you hold up a round chocolate cake topped by fresh strawberries.  

just when he thought it was impossible to fall in love with you harder, you begin singing the happy birthday song. instead of clapping, you sway your body ever so slowly and gracefully. what is arguably considered the jolliest song on earth, you transform into a soft lullaby— the kind that flies you to the night sky and tucks you into bed on the moon, gathers the fluffy clouds and handcrafts them into pillows and a blanket. your voice is light and delicate, sweet as candy. it is an instrument on its own and you do not need anything else. he never knew you were a good singer.

“happy birthday, dear jungkook~ happy birthday to you…” 

this is his best birthday yet, and it’s not even his actual birthday. 

jungkook is stupidly and hopelessly in love with you. 

he welcomes doom, hangs its coat, and pours it a hot cup of tea. 

“i hope you like chocolate. i fought someone for this.” you shyly confess with a laugh. “turns out there’s not many bakeries open at midnight.”

he is speechless. 

his gaze falls on your lap for a moment, where lies an opened plastic clamshell container, two strawberries too small compared to the ones decorating the cake. on the table, a fruit knife sits on top of the cake box. 

you even decorated the bare sides of the cake with half strawberries. he doesn’t think he has seen someone do that yet.  

“i- i like it so much.” he stutters. “you made the cake so pretty.” 

“thank you!” you beam at the compliment. “okay, time to make a wish.” 

he panics a little. he doesn’t know if it’s only a personal or perhaps a universal thing, but he tends to feel pressured when he has to make a birthday wish. he always wants a lot of things. 

“five candles means ‘i’m sorry and happy birthday’ by the way.”

but there is five candles, so maybe he is free to be greedy this time. 

he slowly flutters his eyes shut, and he takes his time to think. after whispering his wish to the universe, he blows out all of the candles. 

“what did you wish for?” 

there is five candles, but he only wished for one thing. 

“if i tell you…” he begins, transfixed eyes tracing down to your lips. “will you make it come true?” 

they part slightly as your chest begins to heave, cranberry stained and inviting. 

he yearns, he craves. he doesn’t want to live with regrets, haunted by the what if’s. all or nothing. you deserve his all. he surrenders everything to your court for the touch of your lips. 

are you thinking what he’s thinking? do you feel the way he does? 

tell him he’s not the only one losing his mind. please. 

and when your eyes lock, there is a palpable electricity none of you can deny. 

“it’s for your birthday. you don’t have to ask.” 

again, the best birthday ever.

without another word, he crosses the short distance, pressing his lips against yours. 

there is no fireworks like in the movies and fairytales. instead, he gets flashes of memories in his mind. all those awkward and comfortable moments, stolen glances, blushing and stuttering, captured images, sleepless nights, tears shed. even the bitter memories inserted make this kiss much sweeter. it’s infinitely better than he could’ve ever imagined. 

he removes his hand tenderly cupping your cheek, also the other that is anchored on the table, blindly searching until he successfully engulfs your delicate hands in his. he holds them, and the board carrying the cake, tightly. 

when you smile against his lips, so does he. you give him a firm peck, so hot that he almost falters on his seat, before breaking away. 

“let’s put this aside first.” you giggle, guiding your restless hands to set it down on the table. “you have chocolate all over your hand.” 

jungkook can hear you, but he’s not listening. he immediately goes for your lips again, and ends up sorely disappointed when you dodge him. 

“whoa, wait. you’ll smear chocolate on my face-”

“you said i don’t have to ask.” he argues.

you narrow your eyes at him.

he hurries with a solution. “i’ll keep my hands behind my back.” and true to his words, he acts as if his hands have been cuffed. 

“that works,” you shrug. 

he is to blame for his nasty torture when you drag yourself closer to him, draping your legs over his thighs and wrapping your arms around his neck. 

you’re practically sitting on his lap and he can’t touch you with his dirty hands. ridiculous.

there is the urge to complain, then lost and forgotten after you seal his lips with yours. he is the luckiest man on earth tonight.

—

 

“will you stay the night?”

jungkook’s cheeks are beginning to ache, but he can’t stop smiling for the life of him. how could he not? you’re lying on his bed, and this time you’re both under the covers. it can’t be more perfect than this, the way you’re mirroring each other. he’s admiring your face and you haven’t averted your eyes from his either. 

at this moment, it feels like nothing else in the world matters.

“if i’m being honest, i’m still scared of the ghost.”

“is he bothering you again?” he quirks an eyebrow, prepared to brawl with a bothersome spirit. he is suddenly aware that the lamp is the only source of light in the apartment. “do we turn on another light?”

“no,“ you chuckle at his reaction. “but he appeared in my dream once after that.”

“what about me?”

“you?” you send him a puzzled look.

he grins toothily. “do i appear in your dreams?”

that earns him a sarcastic roll of the eyes. 

“why is it suddenly about you?”

“i’m helping you get your mind off the ghost!”

“can we just… i don’t know…” you avoid his intense gaze, chewing on your bottom lip. “cuddle?”

this is real, right? he isn’t hallucinating? 

he already made out with you until the two of you couldn’t breathe. surely, cuddling is nothing compared to that… but he has pined for you for months. going from zero to a hundred is giving him emotional motion sickness. like a rollercoaster, but arguably more dangerous. and he shamelessly lives for that. 

“oh, so you got mad at me last week for hugging you but now you want to cuddle?” he mocks humorously. 

“change is the only constant in life.” you say as a matter of fact.

and jungkook isn’t very fond of that knowledge, but if it led you to his arms tonight, then he can try to make peace with it. 

he spreads his arms, and you push yourself close with an arm over his waist, until you’re properly hugging him and he has your body cocooned with his. 

he breathes out a sigh. this is heaven.

“so? have you dreamt of me?”

you make a noise of protest, cheek squished against his chest.

“come on, humor me.” he coaxes you into revelation. “it’s my birthday.”

“…we went on a ferris wheel once.“

“really? were we on a date?”

“i don’t remember.”

“what were we doing?” he continues poking.

“i don’t remember.”

“that’s it?” he grumbles. “you must remember something else.”

you giggle. “it was a long time ago, jungkook.”

“and you didn’t dream of me again after that?”

“stop,” you draw back just enough to see his face. “we have more important things to discuss.” 

jungkook gulps nervously. 

more important things like what? the meaning of that kiss…? um, kisses? the label of your relationship? are you really bringing it up right away like this? he imagined he would be the one to do it. 

“there’s one fish left without a name.”

oh… his face falls. 

“have you thought of one?”

“i have, but…” you jut out your bottom lip. “don’t we decide together?” 

beneath the stoic demeanor you parade around wearing, he realizes that you’re just like everybody else, craving to be held and to spend quality time with someone who makes you feel special. 

he doesn’t hold back on kissing you.

“we will!” he pinches your cheek, which brings out your smile. “i’ll tell you what i think.”

“that goldfish actually reminds me of you.”

“really?” 

you nod eagerly.

“how so?” 

“the both of you,” you giggle. “always follow me around.”

his jaw falls slack, not expecting to be called out like that. you’re having fun with the fact that he’s wrapped around your finger, huh?

“so you want to name it after me?” 

“something like that, but let’s make your name sound cute.”

you hum as the gears in your brain turn. on the other hand, jungkook is not thinking at all, he’s memorizing your face. maybe it’s an artist’s sickness aggravated when faced with the apple of their eye. 

“jung… kook…” you take a long pause, lips left in the shape ‘O’ due to the pronunciation of his name. “kook…?”

“you know, i do get called jungkookie sometimes.”

“jungkookie…?” you slowly repeat the nickname. 

seconds later, your face lights up. 

“then how about kookie? cookie but with-” you draw the letter into the thin air using your index finger. “a ‘k’?” 

jungkook is relieved that you instantly put two and two together. he didn’t want to be the one to suggest it. honestly, rather than a cute vibe, he’s going for the manly vibe. 

“it sounds so cute. what do you think?”

“i think so too!” 

as long as it makes you look this happy, he’d accept any name that you come up with. 

“okay, it’s official.” you return to cuddling up to him. “i can sleep peacefully from now on.” 

was that bothering you? you truly do care for them. he thinks you might care more than he does. 

“let’s sleep…” 

before closing his eyes, he plants an affectionate kiss on top of your head. the truth is he doesn’t want to sleep. if it was up to him, this moment would stretch into forever. as you slip into unconsciousness, he tries his damn hardest to resist it. he yawns, wipes his sleepy tears dry on the pillowcase, caresses your hair and forces his hand to move again when it falls on the bed. 

“jungkook?” 

he hears your voice in its tiniest form yet.

you’re still awake? 

he barely is anymore.

“mhmm?”

“i really am,” he feels a light tug at the back of his shirt, your weak hand forming a closed fist. “sorry.”

—

 

jungkook wakes up at 5am with his stomach grumbling for food. your positions shifted throughout the night and he lies there cuddling you from behind, spending five minutes or so dwelling on regrets. he pictures the cake in the fridge, still in pristine condition, and how different it could’ve been if he didn’t stop himself after three stolen strawberries. 

after that, he thinks about breakfast. rolled omelette would be amazing right now. he just stocked up on side dishes too. only problem is he forgot to buy eggs. 

who goes to the supermarket and somehow manages to miss the whole egg section? 

jeon jungkook, apparently. 

a challenge arises: getting out of bed without waking you up. he isn’t a novice, but he isn’t exactly an expert either. he figures it’s just based on luck, and he’s… very unlucky.

he manages to slip out the arm you’re using as a pillow, replacing it with a real one hoping that you wouldn’t notice the difference in your sleep. a second later and you’re already stretching out your limbs. 

“where are you going?” you utter raspily, swollen eyes from sleep peering at him.

“out- to buy eggs for breakfast.” he replies in a low voice.

you start to harshly rub off the sleep from your eyes. 

“i’ll go with you.”

“there’s no need.” he strokes your hair gently. “sleep more.”

you shake your head stubbornly. “i need to buy something too.”

you drag yourself off of the bed before he can stop you. from your toes down to the heel, you slightly stumble when your feet touch the ground.

“i’ll brush my teeth.”

—

 

once you and jungkook step out of the building, you both find that it’s still before sunrise, but the street lamps are already turned off. everything under the sky is washed with a shade of blue. it feels almost illegal to be here with no other souls walking the streets, but you can breathe a little easier, and you’re warm because jungkook is holding your hand inside the pocket of his jacket. 

what was supposed to be a stolen glance turns into an enamored gaze.

“you look pretty.” 

“so do you,” the two corners of your mouth lift into a quick, shy smile. 

“yah, jungkook!”

that’s taehyung’s voice.

his best friend approaches from the opposite direction, a pomeranian on a leash waddling and wagging its tail beside him. despite the distance, jungkook can already see his smirk poking fun at him. 

count on him to disrupt a perfectly romantic and peaceful moment.

as soon as they meet halfway, jungkook shows him a grimace. 

“what are you doing here?” 

“to return your camera,” he waves the silver film camera, its strap wrapped around his wrist. “i’m taking tannie on a walk so i decided i’d bring it over.”

“okay, give it and go on your way.” 

jungkook snatches it from him, wearing the camera around his wrist as the rightful owner. 

when taehyung finally sets his sight on you, jungkook’s fear of embarrassment instantly kicks in. if he says something stupid, he swears to god— he lets go of your hand in favor of putting his arm around your shoulder, gently tugging you closer to him. 

“you must be ____!” taehyung snaps his fingers when he, at last, recalls your name, which jungkook knows he’s grown tired of hearing. “nice to meet you! i’m taehyung.” 

“ah, yes…”

jungkook senses your awkwardness. he presses his lips into a thin line, sending his best friend a threatening glare that screams ‘i know i’m a hypocrite, but don’t embarrass me.’

“it’s nice to meet you too.” you offer him a polite bow. 

“yeontan seems to like you a lot.” taehyung laughs, gesturing at his dog who is nuzzling its face against your shin. 

jungkook also smiles in endearment. that’s another animal drawn to you for some unknown reason. he can’t say he’s surprised. 

“does he bite?” you cautiously ask.

“no, he’s nice. you can pet him.” 

you nod, bending down to gingerly scratch yeontan’s fluffy ears. “hello, yeontan.” you quietly greet him with a voice so sweet. 

“honestly, ____ looks familiar to me. have we met before?” 

“must be when she rode the dreamboat before.”

“i don’t think that’s it though?” taehyung tilts his head, still racking his memories for your face. “i think i saw her more recently, but maybe not with pink hair.”

you stiffen beside jungkook, knees going weak out of the blue. you straighten up, but you keep your head slightly bowed down, hair falling over your face. 

“that’s impossible. maybe it was someone who looks like her.” 

“ah, maybe,” 

taehyung rubs the back of his neck, giving in to the theory.

“alright then, tannie is getting hyper.” he snorts at his pet trying to run away but is held back by its leash. “see you around, ____! i’ll see you at work, bro!” 

“sorry about that.” jungkook intertwines your fingers again. “let’s go.”

he moves forward, and you get left behind. 

“____?”

his concern grows when he observes your despondent body language. 

“are you okay?” 

“huh? oh- i’m okay.” 

you snap out of it, but as you walk to the convenience store together, jungkook gets the impression that something is weighing on your mind. 

—

 

jungkook watches you move around the store through the viewfinder of his camera, zooming in on your face when you whip your head around. it fails to capture the countless packs of lozenges you’re hugging to your chest.

“miss ____, who are you buying so many candies for?” 

you blink down at them before innocently staring back at the camera. “they’re for my co-workers. it’s flu season so many of them are getting sick.” 

—

with the sun returning to reign over the vast sky, the shade of blue has been replaced by an orange hue. the two of you walk back to your apartment building in silence. he doesn’t know what’s wrong, if it’s his fault or not, but your mood changed after your encounter with taehyung. 

you’ve decided you want some space and jungkook respects that. the entire time, he thinks about how his hand feels empty without yours. is he being paranoid? he feels like he’s already woken up from a dream too good to be true, crafted out of his greatest fantasies, and he’s going to be thrust into a nightmare— learning that none of it was real. this endless push and pull with you, he’s grown to be somewhat ill at ease in your presence. 

he wants it to go away. 

he moves closer, content with the mere brush of the back of your fingers against his, but that small pleasure is robbed from him when you pull your hand away. 

“let’s stop here.” 

the decisive tone of your voice instantly fills him with dread. 

you turn to face him, and he searches your eyes for any trace of emotion. sadness, or fear, or even humor… but he gets nothing. 

“let’s stop seeing and texting each other.”

and he’s scared most of all when you’re impossible to read. just when he thought he had managed to slither past your walls, he is met by larger and stronger ones with welded spikes.

“what are you talking about?” 

“i don’t want anything to do with you anymore.” 

you said it like it’s nothing. like you haven’t consumed his every thought since he saw you crying and you broke his heart without him knowing your name. like you haven’t been breaking his heart over and over again and he still can’t bring himself to detach from you. 

“what is this joke? it’s not really funny.” 

but he laughs anyway, or else he’d start crying, and you’d want him less. 

“just forget all about me.” 

his muscles tense. even now, he doesn’t know if he’s angry, but he is lost and it hurts so much, and he doesn’t know how else to express it without appearing weak. 

“you think that’s something i can just do overnight?”

“what makes it so hard?” you raise your voice. the venom stings without the bite. “you don’t even know me that well!” 

“then what was last night even about?” he hisses, hands balling into fists. “did you do that just to fuck with my feelings? am i just a game to you? what the fuck is your problem, ____?”

“you told me to use you to make myself feel better!” 

it completely catches him off guard when you stomp your feet and produce guttural screams— it borders on a childish tantrum— you damage your throat in doing so, voice coming out high-pitched and scratched up. 

his jaw clenches, straining to hold back his tears. the sun has risen and you’ve come to your senses. he regrets opening his eyes and acknowledging the morning. 

“it didn’t work— is that what you’re saying? is that why you’re throwing me away?” 

he doesn’t get a verbal answer, but your glassy-eyed stare and labored breathing have answered enough. 

“wow, that hurts…” he chuckles sarcastically. “yah, seriously- i have to give it to you. i’m shocked… you’re good. you’re a good actor.” 

he uses his middle finger to wipe the corners of his eyes, acting as though they are tears of amusement.

“you know, out of everyone i liked… you have to be the most cruel.” 

jungkook’s pride has never been this crushed. he feels utterly infuriated and humiliated. yet another exchange of ‘i should have listened’ and ‘i told you so’ between him and his best friend. he’s also sick and tired of his heart leading him to the opposite direction of the love he deserves. 

“i hope you find some other lunatic who would let you use them too. have a good life.” 

this time around, he walks away, and he would like to think that he did it on his own terms. 

—

 

jungkook loses his appetite after that. he informs his manager that he won’t be able to go to work because he’s feeling under the weather, then he drags himself back to bed. 

your scent has clung to the pillowcase, the sheets… 

it’s unbearable.

despite his lack of energy, he forces himself to set up the extra bed on the floor. he expected himself to have difficulty falling asleep, but the amalgamation of physical and emotional exhaustion pulls him down under.

he wakes up again in the afternoon. he ignores the cake in the fridge, instead snacking on yogurt and crackers while watching a movie on his computer. he takes a long shower after and buries himself in assignments until dinner time rolls in. 

by this time, he assumes taehyung has blabbed about what he saw this morning. his friends must think he’s out here relishing in the honeymoon phase. how he wishes it was true. 

he has that whole carton of eggs but he doesn’t have it in him to cook anymore. maybe it’s best that he surrounds himself with people, disrupt his depressing thoughts with loud chatter, and so he makes plans to go to the street market. 

“wait!”

he sprints to the elevator, managing to slip his arm between the doors before they close entirely. 

under different circumstances, this would’ve been fate instead of bad luck.

—

you stand your ground as jungkook enters the elevator, not sparing him a glance. just like you wanted, he also treats you with indifference. it’s hard to breathe in an enclosed space with him now that he hates you. 

two girls from the eleventh floor enter; they stand infront of you and jungkook.

“did you find the video?” the girl infront of you, with the blonde hair, asks impatiently. 

“wait- i’m looking for it.” her friend, you assume, replies as she is focused on aggressively scrolling and tapping on her phone screen.

“having a sex scandal with your professor? wow, that’s really something. how does that even happen?” 

your blood runs cold.

from that statement alone, you can make an educated guess on what exactly they are talking about, but your brain tries to reject the thought. there are many scandals going around these days. maybe they’re talking about somebody else. you hope they are. does that make you a bad person?

“that’s not confirmed, though. the guy’s face doesn’t show in the video… oh, i found it!”

she presents her phone screen to the blonde-haired girl, and you feel as though gallons of ice have been dumped over your head. through the gap between their arms, you get a good view of your face. of the video you were forced to watch so you could acknowledge your sin… the video that not only damaged your reputation but stripped you away of everything. your dignity, your dreams, your people, the essence of your being. 

you don’t need to look to know that beside you, jungkook is also secretly watching. 

you’re trapped. 

“this was really popular at snu but it suddenly got spread outside. my cousin who studies there said the girl’s parents are like- super rich- and they tried to bribe the university, but she still got kicked out. i think her name is ____?”

you bow your head to hide your face, vision gradually going blurry. strangers drop your name so casually to tell the shortest life story known to man. they discard the majority of the parts, retain and distort what entertains them, and in the end, they decide who you are. 

you knew it was going to happen eventually, but this isn’t how you wanted jungkook to learn.

you didn’t want to be here for it. 

“wow, she’s going at it.”

a scandalized gasp. 

“no wonder men are going crazy over this. even the quality is-”

“insane, right?!” the storyteller whisper-shouts. 

“but… what if she doesn’t know she’s being recorded? getting kicked out sounds a bit unfair, no?” 

“no, no- she even holds the camera when they switch positions. watch!” 

you can’t. you can’t take it anymore. you turn away, squeezing your eyes shut in extreme anguish. 

you don’t realize that you’re shaking until jungkook holds your hand tightly, it’s almost crushing. 

“ah, what are you doing?! turn it off! turn it off! it’s too disgusting from this angle!” 

you look at him in shock, for a split moment you forgot he was there. his features have softened; so does your heart. 

although you can’t exactly figure out how he’s feeling, you’d take anything that isn’t disgust. 

the elevator reaches the ground floor. 

as the girls take their leave, you also attempt to step out— but jungkook doesn’t let you. he grips your hand tighter and he presses the button of your apartment floor. 

“why did you- i need to go to work…” you meant to chastise him, but your voice comes out small. 

“stay a little bit. it’s still early.” he speaks to you softly, wiping off the beads of cold sweat on your forehead. 

when did that happen? 

“no, i need to-” 

you feel dizzy; the walls are closing in on you. the turning of your stomach is bordering on intolerable. you lurch, pushing him away as you clamp a hand over your mouth and gag uncontrollably. you’ve had to experience this humiliation in school hallways, public spaces… in front of your friends, your parents; in the dean’s office. this is the first time your body is having this type of reaction; you feel physically sick, like your body is shutting down. 

he rubs your back as an effort to alleviate your ails. “are you okay?”

you could answer, but what’s the point? you’re breaking down in front of him again. you’re no longer the mystifying neighbor he obviously yet secretly cherishes. he has discovered the missing puzzle piece you could never bury even if you died trying. 

“did you enjoy it?”

“what?”

you wish he would stop looking at you with those big, sparkly eyes. at this moment, they’re making you feel small. 

“the video. was it fun watching it too?”

the silence is suffocating.

he utters your name. he doesn’t know what to say; you don’t know what you want to hear either.

“it doesn’t change the way i see you.”

“bullshit,” you spit out— a knee-jerk reaction. 

“look, i-i don’t know what happened but this isn’t right. you don’t deserve this. you can sue ever- wait! ____!”

the elevator opens and he chases after you, effectively blocking your path.

he has officially wore you down. 

“it’s not me,” you declare near to tears instead of pushing him away. “it’s not me, jungkook. i d-don’t know how they- they did it. i know it looks so real but it’s not me. i swear-”

and as an act of desperation, after months of having given up on proving it’s all some sort of well-orchestrated deception, your hands come up to the buttons of your blouse.

“it’s not my body.”

“no no no- you don’t have to do this! this isn’t right!” jungkook freaks out and binds your wrists with his hands, unwillingly using his strength on you when you fight back. he anxiously glances at the camera monitoring the hallway. “stop, stop-”

“i just need one person to believe me.”

“i believe you, okay?” he captures your wrists in one hand, the other tenderly caresses your cheek. “i believe you. i promise.”

he cradles your head on his shoulder, hugging you so tightly it almost feels like you’re one person.

“when the girl said you might not even know you were being recorded… the terrible thoughts i had- like what if he…” 

it’s too much alone in his head. he can’t bring himself to say it into the universe.

“but you didn’t get hurt, right? nothing like that happened? it’s not even real.” he sniffles, holding you tighter as if that is still possible. “that’s a relief… i mean- this, this is bad, what happened to you is. but i was scared.”

you remain there, dumbstruck and motionless. the line between standing and letting jungkook carry your weight has blurred. 

you wish he would never let you go.

—

 

jungkook brings you to his apartment, sits you down in the kitchen, and takes out his birthday cake from fridge. he conveniently finds two pairs of chopsticks in a plastic bag on the table and offers you one, which you accept without thinking. you think he understands that you don’t want to talk about it but you can’t be alone right now either. 

chocolate is supposed to help raise one’s spirit, doesn’t it?

well, it tastes delicious, and jungkook is with you. you feel a little less shitty. 

he can’t sit still, though. 

he cracks open the eggs he bought this morning into a bowl and starts chopping up vegetables to be mixed into it. all the while you sit and watch in silence. no, in peace. the rhythmic tapping of the knife against the chopping board is like music to your ears. even the sound of the oil crackling as he pours the beaten eggs into the frying pan. 

you abandon the endorphin-inducing treat on the table. you saunter over to jungkook in search of something else more associated with love, sneaking your arms around his torso. a tidal wave of relief washes over you. this feels more like resting, and you can’t believe you’re saying this, better than drugs. as it turns out, you’ve been homesick for a body you haven’t touched. a hug can’t fix your life, but it may convince you that it’s possible to survive an unfixable life. 

however, the key difference between jungkook and nicotine is that you can’t simply have jungkook because you want to. 

what he has unleashed upon you is greed.

“i’m sorry,” the more you apologize, the easier it becomes, but you’re also growing sick of it. “i didn’t mean what i said. i was scared of your reaction when you find out so i pushed you away… i keep taking you for granted. i’m sorry.” 

“it’s okay, i understand.” he rubs your forearm comfortingly. “just don’t do it again… it really hurt.” 

“i like you too.” you confess like you’re running out of time. 

you no longer have room for apprehension. you can’t gamble with your chances once more when there’s not much left. 

“i wasn’t playing with your feelings. up until earlier, i thought i’d never be able to let you know, so i’m doing it now. i like you.”

a chill runs along your spine. it feels immensely intimate— how jungkook slowly takes a hold of your hand and guides it to his soft lips, pressing a long kiss to your skin. 

“i like you too, a lot.” his laughter makes his body vibrate, waking up the slumbering butterflies in your stomach. “incase i haven’t made it obvious enough.”

—

“will you stay?”

you nod your head as you joyfully munch on your fresh homemade meal. “they’re already forcing me to use my vacation days anyway.”

he makes a noise of surprise. “you’ve never missed work?”

you shake your head no.

“rude clients aside, i like what i do. it helps me keep my mind off…” you wave the radish-bearing chopsticks. “things.” 

he only nods, ruffling your hair affectionately. “you should eat well, okay?”

“you too!” 

you feed him a big bite of your omelette, and then rice, and then kimchi. 

it results in stuffed cheeks and aggressive chewing, but you look especially happy watching him eat. jungkook assumes that it’s just how you express your affection, and it’s euphoria to be at the receiving end. 

—

you found your way back to where you were last night— jungkook’s warm bed. comfy pajamas and tangled limbs. everything went to shit after you left, so if you were to get stuck here forever, he wouldn’t disapprove. 

he listens to you talk as half of his mind is preoccupied by innocently kissing every inch of the exposed skin of your face and neck.

“i’m going to the salon tomorrow.”

he inwardly groans against your neck when your fingers card through his silky yet messy hair, twisting and tugging.

“what color should i color my hair? red? orange? brown?”

“red sounds really great?” he draws back in excitement. “but i’m going to miss your pink hair. how did you maintain it for so long?”

“i only chose it because it doesn’t look good on me.” 

“that’s ridiculous!” he exclaims.

you snort. “i thought if it doesn’t fit me then it would seriously change the way i look.” 

“then you were very wrong. it fits you so well.” he passionately insists that you see yourself from his point-of-view.

“you’re ridiculous.”

you don’t believe him, but he still earns himself a kiss on the lips. 

“have you ever thought of getting a lip piercing?”

“why?” he fails to hide his smug grin. “would it look good on me?”

“mhmm, i imagine so.”

you lazily trace his lips with your thumb. it’s suddenly making him dizzy. 

“should i get it then?”

“nope,” you reply with finality. “too many girls would fantasize about kissing you.” 

he bursts out laughing. “isn’t that too much of a stretch?” 

“i’m a girl! i’d know!” 

“so you’re the jealous type, huh?” he cockily quirks an eyebrow.

“i’m not,” you scoff.

“possessive?” 

“maybe,” you shrug.

“cool,” he chuckles. “you want to keep kissing?”

you don’t answer and instead you meet his lips halfway with a tug at the collar of his shirt. you’re an amazing kisser; his brain goes haywire once you tilt your head and you kiss him deeper, tongue sneaking in for a taste. he doesn’t want to kiss anyone else again. 

as the tension escalates into something hotter, your wandering hand manages to slip under his shirt, teasing and caressing his skin. fuck, he feels like he’s running a fever. however, when your fingers begin tracing and teasing the waistband of his calvin klein boxers, much as it feels heavenly and stirs something feral deep within him, he has to pull away. 

not too fast. 

he doesn’t want to overwhelm you. he’s afraid you’re not thinking straight.

“are you free this weekend?” he asks as he catches his breath, tongue swiping over his swollen lips. 

“saturday night,” you reply with a drunk smile. 

“since you granted my birthday wish, shall we make your ferris wheel dream come true?” 

your smile fades away a little. “where you work?” 

he nods, but he senses your hesitation. “but we can go to a different one, if you’d like.”

as your silence stretches, he also begins to regret having asked you in the first place. after what happened only hours ago, you must not want to go out in public and risk reliving that experience. 

“…doesn’t it bother you that your friends may have seen the video already?” 

at that moment, taehyung’s voice rings in his ears.

‘honestly, ____ looks familiar to me. have we met before?’

his heart breaks upon the sight of genuine fear swimming in your eyes. he dips his head to press a kiss on your forehead, and he hugs you tight. and tighter. he doesn’t pray much, or ask big questions, but he despises it when bad things happen to good people. he wants to protect you, but how?

“i’d tell them the truth. i’d fight for your case.”

“but what if they don’t believe you…?”

—

a deafening crash resonates in the break room as taehyung’s body slams against the lockers before collapsing on the floor. 

“ah, seriously! i said it’s not her!”

“what the fuck, dude?!” taehyung yelps as he sits up, putting a hand over his assaulted cheek. he’s more offended than hurt if he’s being honest.

as it turns out, it does bother jungkook.

taehyung’s phone landed a few feet away from him. the video is still going, and unlike the people in the elevator, he didn’t have the courtesy to keep it muted. obscene moans and sounds of skin slapping repeatedly play from the speakers at a low volume. 

“it’s so clear, look! how can it not be her?!” 

“it’s edited! it’s ai, you fucking idiot!” jungkook scowls at him. 

he picks up the phone, teeth gritted in anger as he exits the video and discovers that it’s posted at an adult website. the view count has reached five digits and the comment section is flooded. he knows this isn’t the only place it’s posted. hell, other people could have it downloaded. although it’s not your body, it’s still you being violated and lusted after. he feels sick to his stomach. 

“you should’ve said that from the start!” 

he looks away for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut, hard, hoping that would erase the explicit images and thumbnails from his memory. after gathering himself together, his eyes zero in on the report button. 

he clicks ‘submit’ before he crumbles, weakly sitting down on the chair. 

taehyung rushes to his phone that was tossed carelessly on the table. “ah shit- the screen is cracked!” 

if this is how he feels, then he can’t even begin to imagine how you feel. 

he stares at the floor, eyes unfocused. the world goes on and his back remains hunched over as he struggles to make sense of what he should do. 

—

 

when you were called over to the human resource department, you didn’t exactly prepare yourself to watch your alleged sex scandal on a 21.5-inch computer monitor. the light from the screen reflects on your skin. you have to harshly claw at the skin of your knee to stop it from anxiously bouncing; you force yourself not to also gag when the you on the screen chokes and gags. 

“was this reported to you,” you swallow the lump in your throat, shifting your stare to the man in suit and tie. “or did you find it on your own?” 

“miss ____,” he leans in on the table, clasping his hands together. the golden band around his finger shines under the dim lighting of his office. “do you even understand the kind of trouble you’re in?” 

“am i being fired?”

“but you don’t have to be.” he bares his teeth as if he’s delivering good news. you long to destroy his face and his condescension with your bare hands. “i believe we can agree on an arrangement.”

“what do you mean…?” you ask carefully, grasping the tiny bit of hope that what you have in mind isn’t what he meant. 

“i think you know what i mean. you’re smart.”

your heart drops to your stomach when he side-eyes the screen.

“do you expect me to beg for my job and do the same things i did in the video?” 

“why?” his tone then becomes threatening. you begin to hear your heartbeat thumping loud in your chest. “you won’t do it?” 

but if you allow yourself to be intimidated and treated less than a human being worthy of dignity and respect, then you may never be able to forgive yourself. 

your sharp eyes and your cutting words make up for its trembles.

“you’re right, i’m smart. i know you don’t have enough grounds to fire me. you seriously think you can manipulate me this easy?” you contemptuously push over his name plate, the bronze metal tumbling and clashing with the wooden desk. “you’re not qualified for this job.” 

your dismissal of his authority bruises his ego. he holds you in a hostile glare.

“if i were you, i would stop talking. right now.” 

“or what?” you challenge him. “you’ll hit me…? what would your wife think when she hears about this conversation?” 

his face is contorted with anger and frustration, but he is visibly holding himself back from doing something else that would damage his career. 

“i plan on suing the people who are responsible for this. i’d appreciate it if-” you gesture at the monitor. “you can delete your copy too. i’ll clean my table and leave.” 

“you have a real attitude problem, you know that? you need your eyes opened to the reality of life.” the alarms in your head starts blaring when he slowly gets up from his seat. “i think i know what i need to do to fix it.” 

“don’t you dare touch me.” you grit your teeth, tears welling in your eyes as he circles his desk. “i will kill you.” 

he squats on the floor beside you, wearing a mocking grin. you want to move away, but the chair is too small, and you’re determined to show him that you have no fear. 

“you’ll kill me?” 

he grabs a fistful of your hair, tilting your head back, and a scream is ripped out from your throat. the pain is mind-numbing; if he does it long enough, your guess is that you’d surely faint. he forces your head to the direction of the monitor. 

“who you should be killing is the man who put you in this situation.” 

you close your eyes. you try not to let him get under your skin, but the tears rolling down your cheeks are your self-made traitors. 

you have. in your head. a million times. is it truly a man? is he even alone? 

as you tiredly re-open your eyes, you unleash the pepper spray you’ve been holding under your thigh and begin spraying it all over his face. when he collapses on the floor, screaming and clawing at his own skin, your hand also falls limp over the armrest. you take a deep breath, blinking at the mess you made with heavy eyelids. 

does it hurt that much or is he simply dramatic?

you’d stay and enjoy his demise, but you decide he’s not worth your time. 

“____, come back here!” 

“oh-” you freeze on your tracks. 

you pull the lace of your company id over your head, hurling it at his face. he rolls over with an agonized groan. 

“i quit!” 

you unlock the door, dry your tears, and walk out of his office with your chin held high.

—

you stand at jungkook’s door, staring down at your shoes. you’ve been contemplating on whether you should knock or not. you want nothing more but to crawl into his arms, but a part of you is holding back. is it right to drag him into your world? you’d hate it if he becomes infected by your sadness. it broke you to pieces when he cried because he thought you were hurt. what would his reaction be if finds out what happened tonight? 

“____!”

jungkook approaches with a plastic bag from a 24/7 restaurant nearby. judging by his tousled hair, he must’ve just woken up from a long nap. and you think to yourself—he’s so handsome—as he walks over to you and you scramble to collect yourself. 

“have you been waiting long? sorry, i had to buy dinner.”  

“i just got here.” you deny. 

“is that so?” he stops infront of you, eyeing your outfit. “is everything alright? you’re home from work so early.”

“i went home.” you force a smile. “i’m not feeling so well.”

it takes everything in you not to cry when he starts stroking your hair with the gentlest hand. 

“what’s wrong…?” he frowns. he worriedly presses the back of his hand on your forehead, then your neck. “you are a bit hot.”

“i think i just need some more sleep.” you dismiss the topic quickly, throwing your arms around his neck for the hug you’ve been yearning for since you walked out of that office. 

his free arm wraps around waist, pulling you taut against him. he doesn’t ask you anything. like you, he closes his eyes, and he nuzzles his cheek against you, not taking any second for granted. 

  —

  you spend the remaining days before saturday locked up in your apartment, withholding the fact that you quit your job from jungkook. with work gone and social media apps wiped out from your phone, there’s not much to do. just like always, you feed the fishes and converse throughout the day over the phone. they eat less and less as the weather gets colder. you bring up the growing size of the fishes and he agrees that they should be moved into a bigger tank soon. he sends you photos of him bored in class and you send him photos of you in bed. every second that passes by, you feel guilty for holding on to him until the very end. 

you greet him with a radiant smile, opening the door just enough for him to see your face. you can tell that he styled his hair, sprayed on more perfume than usual. he looks absolutely dashing. it almost makes you mad. 

“are you ready?” 

you can feel the crushing weight of everything that hides behind the door. your clothes, your shoes, your self-care, your stacks of medical textbooks… your entire life packed in boxes and bags. 

jungkook was right. out of everyone he liked, you must be the most cruel. 

—

he doesn’t take you to his workplace, and instead brings you to their largest competitor. the amusement park is swarmed by locals and tourists alike, waiting for the firework show to commence. you hide your face with a thick scarf wrapped around your neck. you’ve been waiting, freezing, in line for over an hour, but you don’t mind it at all. it only means more time spent with jungkook. 

you take turns in biting on the pretzel he bought to get rid of your boredom, happy and content in your shared bubble among the hundreds of voices within the vicinity conversing all at once. you become the other half of those lovey-dovey couples people cringe at in public. every now and then you and jungkook mimic a stranger’s voice, or the instrumental music from the nearby rides, and you laugh until your tummies ache. he hugs you to warm you up and you reward him with a kiss on the cheek. 

“your hair looks even prettier in person.” jungkook compliments you with stars in his eyes. 

“thank you! it turned out better than i expected. i’m really happy about it.” you gush, confidence renewed. you eat the last piece of the pretzel happily. “red or pink?”

“okay, red does suit you better,” he admits. “but i still think you were also beautiful in pink.” 

“since you’re always saying that, i’m starting to believe it.” 

“you should, because it’s true.”

“have i ever told you that you’re handsome?”

he shakes his head with a half-amused, half-sheepish smile. 

“well, you’re very handsome,” you declare playfully, but you believe it a hundred percent. 

“thank you,” he bursts into a fit of giggles, and it delivers you a special kind of joy— making him happy.

“lemonade?” he offers you the drink he’s holding. 

you slot the straw between your lips, taking a few sips. your eyes widen in surprise, also delight. “it’s hot?” 

“it’s good, right? i feel so warm.” 

he sips on the drink himself. at the same moment, the line begins to move. 

“oh! it’s our turn!”

he grabs a secure hold of your hand, not allowing a slither of chance of you slipping away from him. you give out your tickets, and the remains of them returned, one of them jungkook takes and the other, you slide into the pocket of your shoulder bag.

“oh, it’s too high-”

your nervous pondering is interrupted by a yelp, thanks to jungkook effortlessly lifting you into the moving cabin with his hands on your hips. with a boyish grin, he jumps in after you. 

—

he curiously watches you set up your phone on the parallel side of your shared seat, you and him filmed by the front camera and displayed on the screen. he chooses not to say anything, but he is pleasantly surprised that you are the first one who initiated on recording this memory. 

once you fix it into the perfect angle, you return and sit beside him with a hint of satisfaction painted on your expression. but as soon as the the cabin quakes mildly, it morphs into nervousness. 

“it’s okay, it’s normal.” he strokes the back of your head, reassuring you. “are you afraid of heights?”

you scoot closer to him, and he forgets how to breathe for a moment when you innocently lay your hand just above his knee. “i try not to be.” 

“i was going to suggest the rollercoaster next, but maybe not.”

once again, the cabin moves, causing a whimper to emit from your throat. your nails begin to dig into his thigh, their sharpness dulled by his denim pants. 

“anything but that- i have bad memories with the rollercoaster.”

“maybe i should sit on the other side to balance ourselves bett-”

“stay!” you quickly pull him back down, resulting to another shake. “in my dream, we sit next to each other.”

“oh,” his lips shape into a smirk. “anything else i should know about?”

“you had your arm around me.” you bat your eyelashes.

he does as you request, hugging you to his side.

“like this?”

you shake your head with a sound of disagreement, moving his hand from your arm down to the curve of your waist. 

“you suddenly remember everything.” he remarks with a teasing squeeze of your flesh. 

you sheepishly smile, shrugging. “eh, i remember this much.” 

he loves moments like this— when your innocence rises to the surface and allows him a glimpse of your purest parts. they completely contradict everything your brain leads you to think is for your protection. you don’t want to be alone, and you do want to be held.

amidst his bittersweet musing, the night sky begins to be lit up by a sequence of launched explosives, shooting off glowing embers that descend slowly through the air. 

he jolts on his seat and clings to you as a result.

“ah, that scared me!” he whines in annoyance.

you spare his scaredy-cat moment a short giggle. you barely pay him any mind; you didn’t even look at him. jungkook decides to watch the fireworks from your wonder-filled eyes. the colors soar across your irises— he can’t really differentiate the silver and the gold; there’s also blue and green; a lot of red. 

his view from here is one-of-a-kind. he temporarily mistakes you for a painting. brings out his phone. snaps photos of you like one instinctively does in an art gallery. 

the mortification only sets in when your eyes meet the camera and upon realizing, you give him your dazzling smile. 

“you should watch the fireworks too.” you scold him lightheartedly, redirecting his hands outside. “they’re amazing.”

and he obeys you. 

for a short while.

you catch him longingly gazing at you sooner the second time around. he likes that he doesn’t need to look away anymore because his feelings are already out in the open, and most importantly, reciprocated. he catches your eyes flicker to his lips. he swears this is the most romantic scene of his life. will anything ever come close? you cup his cheek in your delicate hand, bringing your plush lips to his. he wonders how many times you also hesitated to kiss him before. how long would it take before he has kissed you more times than he didn’t?

 

—

jungkook is glued to his phone, walking at a slower pace behind while you search the spacious parking lot for your motorbike. 

the wicked reality he stole you from momentarily waves at him as a reminder that ignoring it doesn’t make it disappear. a notification from a fan that says they found a clip of your video on another social media platform and reported it there too. a notification containing the link. he clicks on the app and finds that his latest video has reached almost half a million views. 

technology has gone too far. how is there no law for this yet??? someone's life is ruined 

what is this. you've totally ruined the video for me

jungkook!! when are you going live again?

everyone stop spreading the video around!!!!!!!!!! report it if you see it!!!!

but how come you suddenly made a ten min vid talking against ai so passionately? do you know this girl personally?? haha

lol? he already talked about ai in a live before. his follower would know that he knows a lot about editing and technology too. hes using his knowledge for good. stop assuming

it was obvious from the start ㅠㅠ the expressions look a bit unnatural. this is unsettling.... i feel so bad for her

um .. am i the only one who doesn't know about this

you're better off not knowing 😭

it's gone viral recently

how? it's all over my feed

his temples throb with a threat of an incoming headache. he can only hope and pray that he didn’t do more harm than good… and by some miracle you don’t find out about this, at least not before he is prepared to see you mad at him again. sharply inhaling, he swipes out of the comment section and tucks his phone back into his small crossbody bag. 

“wait for me!”

he jogs to catch up to you, hurling himself to your back. you are both nearly knocked over if not for him throwing his strong arms around you. 

“you’re so hyper. are you a puppy?” you groan. “go put your helmet on.” 

“this hurts my pride. i said i’m not wearing it again!” 

he is, once again, left with no choice when you forcefully shove your only helmet over his head. 

“calm down, nothing bad will happen anyway.” 

“this feels so wrong.” he continues complaining. “everyone i know owns an extra, just so you know.” 

“well, i never planned on riding with a passenger.” you pull down the visor, sealing the deal. “hold on tight, okay?”

—

how often do you see a man on the road sitting at the back of an expensive motorbike that his cool girlfriend drives? jungkook wishes someone could take a photo and send it to him as a memento because being that man is pretty darn fun. except for the part that you’re not wearing a helmet and he’s also freaking out in the back of his mind, especially when the vehicle tilts even at the slightest. 

but yeah, fun. 

until the rain starts to come down and he ends up numb from the freezing cold. 

your driving speed decreases. you move farther into the center of the lane to avoid the slippery paint on asphalt. 

“jungkook, remove my glasses.” you instruct him urgently. 

“okay!” his arm freezes in the air. “wait, where do i put it?”

“fuck, anywhere. over my head!”

 —

owing it to your driving experience and extreme carefulness of your passenger, you park at your designated parking space safely. by the time you do so, the rain has become a downpour.

“run!” you shout as you both begin to brave it. 

for the record, jungkook tried. 

his shoe slides against the wet and slippery ground and a startled scream leaves his mouth as it all happens too fast. he lands on his butt, but loses balance again and ends up completely lying down in the middle of the parking lot. 

“jungkook!” 

alongside the fierce raindrops, your frantic footsteps bringing you to jungkook contest in creating loud splashes. you get down on your knees, forcibly shaking his frame with yet another call of his name.

“are you okay? where are you hurt?!” 

garnering no response, you resort to giving his face weak slaps. 

“stand up. this isn’t funny.” 

his ears catch you blowing out a sigh, layered underneath is the most adorable growl he has ever heard— reminds him of a tiger cub. there is the lightest trace of smile on his lips as you carry his head over to your lap with utmost gentleness. 

“jungkook!” 

you wipe his rain-soaked face with your rain-soaked hands as if it would do something. he dies of laughter inside. 

“are you being serious right now?!” 

he slowly cracks one eye open, and then the other, greeting you with the most gleeful giggle. he’s so stupidly happy it’s almost painful. chest-restricting. doesn’t help much when you hit his chest, rightfully so, and he laughs harder. 

“ugh, you’re so annoying!” 

his upper body tumbles over again to the wet ground when you return to your feet. the view from here is not that bad. he is losing half his mind from the cold and his eyes are blurry from the rain. it presents itself as the perfect opportunity to say something cheesy about going to heaven, but would an angel nudge him with their foot and say “stand up. we’re totally going to get sick now, you jerk!” before running away? 

in jungkook’s defense, he checked the weather forecast this morning. it’s painfully clear to him now that they lied. the two of you are dripping all over the floor mat in front of the building’s entrance doors. there is no other choice but to wring your clothes here to minimize the trail of mess you will leave behind when you go up to your units. 

you’re squeezing out the water from your hair. he is left with a white t-shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin as he does the same with his sweater.

the earthy and distinct smell of the rain clings to the air, and therefore, everything.

“jungkook,”

“yes?” he cranes his head to your direction and your eyes connect.

“don’t get sick.” 

“i won’t! i’m healthy. i only get sick once a year.” he boasts with a grin. 

given the length difference, jungkook’s method is messier than yours— he shakes the water out of his hair like a puppy. 

“okay, rude-” you chide at him, flinching away from the shower. 

“oh i’m sorry!” 

didn’t think about that, he winces. 

“aquarium after showering?”

—

“worms make me queasy.” you make a noise of disgust as you dispose of your plastic gloves. 

“but clem loves them.”

“true,” you return beside jungkook, who is watching your five beloved swimmers with pure fascination. “but not as much as coral does.” 

“sometimes i wonder if they’re getting tired of seeing our faces everyday.” 

“i hope not,” you frown.

after all, they’ve taken over a considerable chunk of your daily life for the past half year. you worried more about their meals than your own. you hated it when clementine and dahlia would get scared and hide from you at the beginning. you worked hard to gain their trust. how long will it take for them to forget you? contrary to the three-second memory span myth, you read that they can keep memories for weeks, some claim months, at least five, or even years. 

“yeah, probably not because they associate us with food.” he chuckles.

“that’s true.” 

he straightens up and drops himself on the couch. while you’re alone, you take your time to prepare your heart. 

you try your hardest to look at every little detail of each fish, anything you haven’t seen before. you always loved the way their tail and fins glide and flow as they swim, reminiscent of long hair blowing with the wind. when they play about the shipwreck, it feels you’re being healed. something broken can still be a source of joy.

“i had a wonderful time, by the way.” you turn to jungkook, making your way to where he is. “thank you for tonight.”

“me too. i was so happy.” 

he squeezes you to his side, dipping to press a kiss to your temple. you never understood people who preferred forehead kisses until you met jungkook. a kiss on the lips meant being wanted, and maybe that was everything to you.

“but i’m buying the extra helmet myself tomorrow.”

“you don’t have to do that!”

while he laughs, you force a smile. 

there’s no point. there will be no next time.

“no but thank you for everything, really… my life has been a living nightmare but- but i felt like a person again when i was with you.” 

you take a pause, willing yourself not to cry. you need to tell him everything you haven’t said so you can live with less regrets. 

“you’re such a kind person. i’m sorry that i always lashed out on you too. just because i was hurting doesn’t make it right to hurt you.” 

“why are you talking like that?” he questions you suspiciously. he masks his nervousness with a tone of humor. “it sounds like you’re saying goodbye.”

because you are…

you’ve never been good at goodbyes. the original plan was to leave in the middle of the night without letting him know, leaving a note was an option. either way you know that you will hurt him, and as an admitted coward, you didn’t want to witness that.

but in the future, when you reminisce about him, you don’t want to be overcome with guilt. and when he reminisces about you, you don’t want memories of you to be tainted with bitter resentment. you hope that when either one of you sheds tears, the pain of loss eventually becomes gratitude for what you had momentarily. 

and so, you take a deep breath.

“i need to tell you something.”

he stares back into your eyes without saying anything. in the duration of that silence, jungkook is able to interpret and predict where your shared story is heading. 

“you’re leaving…”

the end.

you never considered that hearing him say it would hurt much more than telling him yourself.

“when?”

“my flight is in six hours. i’m so sorry.” 

you nearly break down into the tears, but you harshly chew on your bottom lip. you can’t cry, not in front of him. you don’t have the right.

“my parents, they finally forgave me… i can continue studying with their help. but no one wants to accept me here anymore, i tried, everywhere… so i’m going back with them to milan.”

“where they work…” he says meekly. he remembers you mentioning it in passing.

“can’t you postpone?” he tries to spark up even a smallest crumb of hope. he places his hand over yours, squeezing lightly. “even just for a day?”

you shake your head, unable to look him in the eyes, but you flip your hand over so you can hold his. and you do. tightly. and when it doesn’t feel enough, you use both hands and you clasp him in between. 

the silence in between is suffocating.

“when will you come back?”

“i don’t know.”

“i can wait-”

“no, you can’t.” you interrupt, looking at him decisively. “you shouldn’t.” 

with hardened features, he challenges your stare. you’re not scared or intimidated. he’s not angry. he’s just… 

“that’s not for you to decide.”

fighting for you.

you’d be a hypocrite if you said that you wished he wouldn’t. 

“jungkook, please, don’t.”

you throw your arms around his neck, hugging him so he won’t be able to see your face and decipher your thoughts. deep inside, with logic thrown outside the window, where all you can see and feel and touch is him, you wish that he would beg and convince you to stay. 

“you’d only waste your time doing that. you’ll meet someone else…” 

those words leave a bitter taste in your mouth. possessive, he jokingly described you once. 

“don’t say that.” he interjects. 

“you deserve to be happy, jungkook. there is so much more to life.”

“i knew- i-i had a feeling you would leave soon. i just didn’t know when.”

a tear drips from your eyelash; you hug him tighter and wipe it off on his shoulder. 

“i wish i could’ve done more.” he utters regretfully. “to help you. and comfort you. you endured everything on your own…”

“you believed me and you stayed with me. you did more than everybody else.” 

taking away the science of it, it’s common knowledge that a hug has wondrous healing effects. it’s one of those things that we naturally learn through experience, feeling. the hormone and neurotransmitter oxytocin can affect how we feel and respond to pain. studies say that it kicks in for hugs that last at least six to twenty seconds. 

“will you be okay there?” he whispers. he’s gently stroking the expanse of your back and it feels like getting tucked into bed.

by now, you’ve been hugging jungkook for over twenty seconds, and you realize that the time is irrelevant. perhaps what they are referring to are the hugs you wouldn’t mind staying in forever. 

“i’m scared,” you confess. “but i’ll be okay.”

a glimpse at the aquarium and enters a silly, gutwrenching thought. 

“you know… maybe in another life,” you peek fondly into a future that may very well never exist. “we’re old and married, and we have a big pond instead of an aquarium.”

jungkook draws back and stares you down with his tearful eyes. 

you clear your throat, face going warm with regret. “sorry-”

“you’re impossible-” he mutters before leaning in to kiss you. 

you’re frozen at first, mind going blank, until he’s kissing you deeper, gripping your waist tighter, with intense emotions you’ve never felt him express before, and you are forced to remember that this kiss is a goodbye. 

your hands around his neck fall over his shoulders, and you grant him the power to let you fall into the abyss where nothing else exists but the two of you. 

you stop worrying about the time ticking. 

you do not think about pulling away. 

he is the one who breaks the kiss and your heart is broken. 

his gaze is heaving with longing as does his aching chest. “why can’t it be in this life?”

you think this is when the gravity of the situation comes crashing down on you. jungkook is once in a lifetime. he is the person you will dedicate a memoir to when you reach the point in life where the only thing left to do is to look back. revealing the closet full of skeletons of who you were and who you will never become. he will be the subject of your what if’s, the other main character of the alternate version of your life story. the cynics will clamor, your time together was too short for it to have meant something, ignorant of the most lamentable grief— and you will envy them for it.

the corners of your mouth are lifted into a wistful smile. “fate made us meet at the wrong time, when i’m the wrong person for us.”

  —

when you arrive at your apartment, you are deprived of the privacy to break down. your brother and your family driver, mister lee, have only begun hauling your bags and boxes. you try to ignore their presence, head straight to the bathroom, but as always, your brother doesn’t allow you peace. 

“are you seriously bringing your motorbike too?”

you take a deep breath to compose yourself, but you still end up gritting your teeth. “it’s mine.”

“it’s too expensive to have it shipped-”

“shut up, you’re not the one paying for it.” 

you turn on your heel, but you become rooted into place when you hear jungkook’s name. 

“that boy you were with- jungkook, is it?”

you face with him a look of suspicion, eyebrows furrowing. “why do you care?”

he casually leans against the kitchen cabinet, hands tucked into his jeans’ pockets. “he must genuinely like you a lot to make that video. the tide has turned because of him.”

“wh-what are you saying?” you sputter. “what video?”

he narrows his eyes at you. “you don’t know what i’m talking about?”

“are you fucking with me again?” 

“yeah- okay, nevermind.” he dismisses the topic, straightening up to pick up one of the boxes that will be carried to his car. 

“moon!” you irritatedly shout his name, throwing the first thing that your hand touches. the comb hits his back before falling on the floor with a smack. “what is it?!” 

“god, ___! it’s nothing! forget about it!” he barks, going straight for the front door with two boxes stacked in his arms. “go and make sure you didn’t forget to pack anything. i don’t need you nagging me when a package gets lost on its way to milan.” 

you’re obviously having a hard time. can’t he go a little gentler on you? 

“and cover your face.”

“does it matter? i’m already leav-”

“dad asked for it— not me. just do it, ____.”

you weakly slump back against the wall. you have no fight left in you today. you’d like to commend yourself for making it this far, surviving the worst of the worst and having the courage to come out of the tunnel, but you fail to make the distinction between being strong and becoming jaded. 

“ma’am-” mister lee offers you a handkerchief. “i found it in one of the drawers. did you mean to leave it behind?” 

you shake your head, and with a cold, shaky hand, you take it from his open palm. 

once the tears begin to slide down your cheeks, there is no more stopping them. 

as a sign of respect to you, he also leaves the room. 

you choke back a sob, clutching to your chest— the handkerchief you were never sure if you were given or you stole. 

—

jungkook’s tears glimmer from the lighter’s dancing flame. after several clicks, he manages to light up the cigarette. he isn’t innocent–after all he’s already an adult—but it’s a habit he makes an effort to avoid. surely, he can give himself a pass today, though. he’s heartbroken, and he feels pathetic enough hanging out in the alleyway you frequented. 

he blankly stares at the lighter you believe you lost due to your carelessness. thinking back to your words from earlier, he’s furious at how calm you appeared. it was an easy decision— leaving him behind.

the rain has stopped, but raindrops collected by the roof still trickle to the ground and clang against metal pipes.  

with trembling lips, he exhales the smoke— a sob threatens to be ripped from his throat and he roughly covers his mouth to stop it. 

what could possibly be the lesson he’s supposed to learn from this pain? 

he didn’t know where else to go. at his apartment, he’d feel you leave. at the lobby, he’d see you leave. he’d go far, but he doesn’t want to be too far. until the very end, he is at your disposal. 

you could’ve been the one. no, he desperately wanted you to be the one. if you had stayed, he would’ve loved you as often as he breathed— but your paths intertwined only to be unraveled. 

some sadistic tool, fate is. what was the point of finding you again? 

a passerby’s fleeting shadow blocks all sources of light casted over jungkook’s secret place.

you wear your only carry-on, a duffle bag, around your body. 

you cross the street with unhurried steps. 

as you climb into your getaway car, jungkook flicks off the ash from the cigarette held between his fore and middle fingers. 

the tires roll over the wet asphalt, leaving behind a hissing echo. your brother’s car follows suit.

thirty-five, thirty-six… jungkook anxiously counts the vehicles he hears driving away.

was one of them you? 

…are you gone?

[blocksgame]

a little purgatory q!fitpac for you

(/rp) (set during yesterday 11/7 when they had the mutual assinations missions)

They set a time and place. It’s near mid, which ups the risk, but - you know, call him crazy, Fit doesn’t feel the need to bother telling Forever where he's going or what he’s doing.

Squinting, he sees a little figure in the distance jump off a cliff. It catches itself with a glider at the last second, smoothly. It gets close enough to become distinct. Like a kid, Fit smiles. Right on time.

“Hi Fit!” Pac waves.

“Pac!” Fit shouts, and walks toward him.

Pac sprints.

They both slow when they get within placing distance. Pac looks like shit. He’s busted up. He doesn’t normally take the hoodie off, but he has now in the desert heat. His undershirt is torn and his strong arms are cut up. He looks miserable.

Fit looks hot. He’s also cut up and his clothes are torn up to catch sweat and for bandages, but that’s what they were always for. Waiting.

“Fit! I’m so happy to see you. Are you gonna kill me?” Pac asks.

Not unless – are you going to – other things Fit might say die on his tongue. He shakes his head. “No,” he says, firmly.

“Oh, okay.” Pac gets a little closer. “That’s good.”

“Pac, how are you?”

“Oh, well, pretty bad,” says Pac. “Um, a crocodile nearly ate me getting here, and, I don’t – I’ve died like ten times today – and – I don’t know, Fit, it’s a nightmare!”

At last, they reach out to each other and hug rather desperately. Fit braces himself because expects the touch to be a lot, back in his old ways as he’s been, but really it’s only been three days and hugging Pac is kind of like riding a bicycle. Pac squeezes him hard and Fit squeezes him just the same, for a while.

“How – how are you?” Pac asks, against his neck.

“I’m okay,” Fit reassures him. “I’m okay. ...This is kind of like what I’m used to, you know? Not trusting anyone and hidden bases and finding resources and – it’s kind of fun? It’s not, like, fun fun, but…”

“That’s good,” says Pac. “I’m glad. I kept thinking, this is the kind of thing Fit would like – but I didn’t know if, if you would, or if…”

Fit huffs a laugh. “I mean, it’s not summer camp. But, but it’s got its charms. To me, at least. Maybe not to anyone else.” If you’re as much of an asshole as Fit, of course.

Pac nods. “Oh, I’m really glad. It makes sense. I mean, you only died once that I saw, right?” They pull apart.

“Yeah. Fucking tiger.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, don’t be. I’m sorry you’ve been – well, you know. Having it rough.”

“Hah...”

Pac’s hair is unruly and falling in his eyes. A known terror of the wastelands, a man who leaves no survivors, pushes it out of the way. “Is Tubbo taking care of you?” he asks, as gentle as he knows how.

Wide-eyed, Pac nods.

“That’s good.” Not that Pac needs it. Fit knows better, except that Pac doesn’t know better and right now it looks like he really does need it.

He’d vaguely considered proposing that they trap Red’s portal, or some other kind of mischief, for fun, but – They just sit together, under an acacia tree, leaned together. Pac shifts and shuts his eyes and breathes it in. Fit puts his arm around his shoulder. In lieu of a hand to hold, Pac rests his hand on Fit’s knee.

Fit manages to give them both ten minutes. Eventually his danger-sense gets too high. Just about sitting in the open like this, what’s he thinking? Maybe they could stay together for longer if they worked on tasks, but that’s always riskier. If someone gets the jump on one of them, Fit will have to decide what to do. Being here is even more fun than Fit let on. He just didn’t want to sound like a demon in front of Pac. But when he imagines someone else rolling up on them, coming up to mid, he’s not even trying to do the math - he doesn’t want to be in a position to pick more battles. Is that cowardice? Is it protectiveness?

“I should really get back to grinding,” he says.

Pac just nods. He has work too. Now he knows that Fit is alive and well, as well as possible, and cares about him. He misses Mike. He misses their old life and when they had more and when being bad at things hurt less. “Me too,” he says. He has to keep going. “Should we kill each other for the quest?”

The terror of the wastelands shuts his eyes. “Let’s not.”

“Okay.”

And they both walk away.

[oatsa-the-humanoid]

Surviving the Trials (part 1)

Days had merged into weeks, weeks had merged into months, and months had merged into an endless supply of an unknown amount of time. 

My fellow Reagents and I (Paul, Marie, and David) had almost refused to leave the sleep rooms during “Bring Your Baby to Work Week.” We had seen the carnage that was brought in daily through the medical window, and that was far enough to tell us to stay away from the Trials. Reagents with missing limbs, Reagents with blood and holes all over their clothing, and dead Reagents whose injuries were so vile that the doctors didn’t dare remove their shrouds. 

David was especially terrified of the Trials. He had heard the rumors of this so-called “Bambino” through the Reagents that had somehow survived, and he hasn’t been sleeping since. His eyes bore dark circles and he grew gaunt from a lack of eating. He knew it was a matter of time before the doctors forced the four of us into a Trial against our will.

Paul and Marie were the most experienced Reagents out of our group. What scared me the most is that the two veterans didn’t dare volunteer to go into the Bambino Trials even once. Something “just didn’t feel right” as Marie put it.

Marie was the oldest of our group. She had long, gray hair that went slightly past her shoulders and deep wrinkles on her forehead. As “old” as she seemed, she was a pretty good fighter, very strong, too. I’ve seen her fight off multiple pouncers at once with such a rageful strength that was genuinely terrifying to witness come out of such a brittle body. She even managed to get a couple strikes off on Coyle, which I found impossible.

Paul is very fond of Marie, not romantically, but almost as if he was her son. He may actually be her son, but whenever I asked about it, he shrugged off the question by bringing up some alternative topic. Paul was more fond of the trials than all of us combined. He used them as an excuse to throw bricks and bottles at some unfortunate Expop. He always went into the Trials when he was upset, so he could use them like a Rage Room. However, he never dared to actually finish a Trial. He was too terrified of the main assets of the Trials, especially Gooseberry. He almost got gored by Futterman’s vicious drill way too many times to count. He eventually swore to himself that he would never finish a Trial again unless his life absolutely depended on it.

I, like most others, was not fond of the Trials in any aspect. I found the Trials to be grotesque, unholy experiments made for the pleasure of the doctors and Murkoff officials. I was almost bold enough to swear that I would never finish a Trial again like Paul, but that was until I overheard some discussion between the guards of the sleep room. I heard them mention that they were going to force my friends and I into a Trial. That we had been leeching off their sleep room resources for long enough and that we needed to work for our meals. 

When I heard this news, I was petrified. I brought my three friends into my room during the “Sleep Hours” and told them about our unfortunate turn of events. They couldn’t believe their ears, especially David. 

“I TOLD YOU!” He yelled, crumbling into a chair and weeping. “I told you they’d do this. I freakin’ told you.” 

We were all in distress at this information. We tried our best to comfort each other in my quarters by talking over the situation.

“Well, hopefully they pick a short Trial, maybe even one without this ‘Bambino’ fella,” Marie said quietly, rubbing David’s back. 

“You could even stay by the shuttle if you want. We won’t mind.” I replied.

David wiped the wetness from his eyes.

“I’m sorry for crying, it’s just that I’m so worried. The chances of us living, all of us, are…so damn slim.” He frowned and looked at me.

“Janie, maybe we should…make a plan? Just…some sort of groundwork. Something to help get an edge.”

“It’s hard to do that when we don’t even know what Trial we’re gonna’ get.” Explained Paul. “I think maybe if we stick together, we will have a better chance of survival.”

“Yeah,” I whispered, mainly to myself. “But what if we happen to get separated?”

My question was rhetorical, but it lingered on our minds. We sat in silence for many, dreadful minutes, keeping our eyes on our twiddling thumbs.

“I love you guys. You are some fine fellas.” Announced David after a while. “You guys really have been the light in my dreary life.”

“We love you too,” whispered Marie, giving him a crinkled smile. “Everything’s gonna’ work out. I promise.”

I hope you guys enjoyed part 1 of the little story I'm making about Outlast Trials! Let me know if you wanna' read more!💚

If anyone has any tips on how to properly post stories on Tumblr, please tell me. I beg of you. 😭

[middleearthsdreams]

New World

Chapter 3

A/N: I feel like this is rushed, but anywaays. I'm sorry for the long wait, it's hard to update while studying :')). How are ya'll doing?

Warnings: attempted S/A, Smut, (no proof read)

Enjoy <3

chapter 1 / chapter 2

You know those tv shows, right? Where they strand famous people on a deserted island and they have to go on with what they can. Well, now you know that’s a bunch of bullshit. Because it’s been so many days, you’ve lost count, and you haven’t been able to wash yourself. All the dirt, mud and oil that’s formed on your face – and not just the face.

You smelled very badly, feeling so sorry for it. You didn’t feel comfortable smelling this horribly around people. Especially the ones you’re forced to ride with, chest to back. Sandor didn’t mind – of course – he smelt just as bad as you. If not more. But it wasn’t just that. You had to eat what Sandor could hunt: small squirrels, bunnies, sometimes berries and all things you find in the wild. Your stomach wasn’t very used to these poor meals, all made of meat. Sandor offered to bring you along while he hunted, but you just couldn’t. You’re too used to your soft and gentle world: where the meat was covered in plastic bags. You know you’ll have to learn someday: hunting is the only way to eat around here. Well, mostly killing. But you’re not ready to watch an animal die, even less by your hands.

You’re not complaining, at all. You’re glad you have someone as resourceful as Sandor to accompany you. He could sometimes be blunt and rough, but he’s a good company. He’s been nothing but a gentleman: a gentleman who curses a lot. Not that you’d mind. He’s the one that wasn’t used to women cursing. The only woman he heard talking like this was Cersei. When you did the first time, he was shocked to say the least. As shocked as his careless being could allow on his facial features. After these few days he understood that this is your way of speaking, only giving you a look whenever you did. Curses aside, he’s been very gentle with you. If you didn’t want to hunt, he didn’t force his hand. You wanted to stop to catch some pretty flowers, he didn’t oppose. You wanted to cook, he’d let you and praise your “well done squirrel”. You cried about your family, which you missed dearly, and he held you. His gentleness was indeed very contrasting with the raw wildness.

But, as much as you didn’t want to annoy him, you had to stop by the river.

“It’s been too long since I last bathed” You explain, the horrid smell invading your nostrils. “And since it’s sunny I can wash my clothes” You point out then “our clothes”. Sandor takes a minute to think. He knows that if it was just him, he wouldn’t mind being this nasty or smelling this much. He would go days with the same stains attached to his undershirt. But you were close to the Brotherhood enough. He’s just waiting for the right moment to get the Stark girl, bring her home. And make a good amount out of it, of course. He hadn’t told you his plans but you knew. You won’t have many chances to take care of yourselves, running form the Brotherhood and all. That’s why you think it’s a nice day to just stop and take a minute to wash up.

Sandor nods “Aye”.

He dismounts Stranger, then helps you get down. As always, his hands cause shivers to form on your sides. He puts you down, like you weighted nothing to him. You grow flustered a little bit more every day.

“I’m gonna catch something first, to eat…” He says, scratching his head. You nod sceptical. You had enough to eat for a few more days, so why was he- “Hold on, do you have some soap?” You have to yell to reach him, he’s already running for it in the woods. He stops and says “Left side pouch” then leaves, disappearing in the green. He’s acting weird, you think. You shake your head, caressing stranger on the side. Your hand reaches down in the skin bag, taking out a few things. A small knife, a piece of carved wood, a comb – you smile at that – and, in the end, you find the soap. You can’t believe he actually has it and, most of all, uses it. But it looks pretty much used, thank god.

It’s when you start to undress that you understand why he was acting weird. You couldn’t bathe together, obviously. And a gentleman again, he is. The embarrassment burns in your cheeks, but soon dissolves. The calm and warm water envelops your body, you have to hold back a moan. The creek is tall enough to cover you entirely, only when you’re sitting down. You put the dirty clothes on a nearby rock, enjoying the quietness. Pulling your head back you let your hair dive in the water. You could stay like this forever. The sun hitting your skin below the water, which is so clear and blue. If you look close enough you can see a few small fishes swimming by. You take your sweet time to use the soap, shivering by the satisfaction of being clean. A smile creeps up on your lips: the soap smells of lavender.

You’ve just finished washing your clothes, when you hear someone coming out of the trees. You don’t mind at first, being turned back. Sandor must have forgotten something, and the water covers you enough not to be seen. Then you hear Stranger neighing harshly. “Ain’t you a pretty thing” An unknown voice says. You glance back so suddenly you hurt your neck. Your hands move to cover yourself at lightspeed. You inspect the three men quickly, searching for barrels or weapons. Your eyes widen, terror filling you to the bone. Lannisters. And they’re all armed, sword at hand. The biggest out of the three speaks again “What’re ye doing all alone, pretty girl?”. They surround you, blocking all the possible exits. You know you wouldn’t be fast enough to run. Your insides boil, if only you had kept the small knife at hand. But what could you do against these grown men, trained to fight and with swords too? Your tiny knife would dwarf their mighty steel. You’re frozen.

“Come here, now love” The skinny one says. His face in scarred and eyes dangerous. You don’t move, not even breathing. You wish you could move, try to say something back or yell so that Sandor could hear you. But your body doesn’t respond. The same man says “I won’t ask a second time”. His dirty boots touch the water, getting close. You have to look up at him. That’s when you decide he’s too close. You stand up, opting for doing it yourself rather than having him touching you. You don’t know how long you could avoid their touch, but you want to prolong that moment nonetheless. “There you are” He says, his hand coming close to your side. You hear a faint sound, then you clearly see something moving behind the trees. You heart jumps in your throat: it’s him! You smile and whisper “You’re screwed”. That’s when you see the tall and dark shadow of Sandor. His sword cutting one man in half, not giving the time to process what’s happening to the big one close to him. The one in front of you turns back, horrified by the slaughter of his men, but doesn’t have much time to respond. Blood splutters on your chest, the pointy end of Sandor’s sword coming out of the man’s back. Behind it there’re his dark eyes and half burned face looking back at you. A wild glimpse. There’s quiet again. The sun hitting your bloodied skin.

You stand still. Sandor throws the man’s corpse away, like it weighted nothing to him. Again. Maybe it’s because he just came back from a hunt or the fresh kills, but he’s got a dangerous gleam in his eyes. The furrow of his brow casting shadows on his cheek, his facial muscles tight. His teeth are showing because of the heavy breathing. You’re trembling. Your eyes never leaving his, you don’t know what to say. You want to thank him, but you know if you open your mouth you might cry. But still, you want to thank him. You decide to move, very slowly, and take his sword out of his hands. You let it fall. He doesn’t say a thing, as you take his armour off. He lets you slip his undershirt off, revealing his hairy chest. Your cheeks burn but you’re adamant. You put his shirt on the dirty clothes rock, ready to be washed. When you turn around you kneel, ready to take his pants off too. You start to untie his breaches but he stops you “No need”. He kneels to you and sits, letting the water wash away the blood and dirt. You resume the soap and scrub his shoulders gently. You don’t meet his eyes this time, being too close. You sit between his spread legs, your body still naked. You should feel embarrassed for it, but it’s not because you’re bare in front of him that is making you feel nervous. It’s the closeness, the feeling of his intense gaze on you. The fact that he accepts your touch is a win, you think. As your hands massage him and clean his chest you dare a quick glance to his face. His lips are so close, you can feel his breath on your cheeks. His black eyes lock you in, not giving you a chance to leave so soon. You can feel his heartbeat from under your palms on his chest, it’s quickening. You have to lean your head back to maintain eye contact, even when you’re both sitting down. His lips open then close, not sure what to say. He looks like in a trance. You don’t want to break the spell. “I made a mess… the blood” He stutters out, pointing to your chest. You look down to your bloodied breasts, shrugging. He keeps his gaze on your eyes, and you’re thankful for that. Ever the gentleman, even in this situation. You snicker lightly, moving your hand to his hair. You shake your head and finally find your voice “You first”. You scrub the soap there, then hesitate, your hand a few inches from his scar. “Can I?” You ask in the tiniest voice. He looks like he’s fighting a storm in his mind, then nods, taking your hand in his and leading it to his burned side. You sigh relieved, refraining from gasping at the touch. Once you’re done cleaning him up you move to stand again. His hands stop you, grasping your sides gently but firmly. You kneel back between his legs, holding onto his shoulders. Your face is so close to his, you have to hold very tight to stop yourself from kissing him. It looks like he’s going through the same self-restraint. You wait there, minutes passing by. The hot sun dried your hair long time ago.

“Can I?” He asks, taking the soap from your hand. You don’t get it at first; then he looks down, below your neck. You squirm on the inside, ready to scream from the excitement. You don’t answer, but take his hand and guide it to your blood covered breasts. He doesn’t hesitate, diving into your flesh roughly. You have to hold back a moan, grasping his shoulders tighter. He focuses on cleaning you, at first. His black pools watching the supple flesh moving around in his hands. You feel the centre of your legs burn, aching to be touched. All the wait and expectation slowly building up your excitement. Until it finally explodes. He throws the soap on the ground, growling. His lips smash into yours so forcefully he has to hold your back tightly. You lock your arms behind his neck, kissing him back with almost the same strength. He engulfs you entirely, pushing you down but you push up into him. You grip his hair in a fist, pulling lightly; just enough to make him groan. The sound vibrates on your toungue, making you shiver and moan back. Your teeth clash, toungue diving into each other. You long to hear him once more: you pull his hair again. The sweet moans he makes, so low they shake all through your entire body. You gasp back for air, heavy breathing on his cheek. He grunts – of course – bending down to kiss your neck. You move your head to grant him more access, rubbing your hands into his hair tenderly. You don’t dare speak right now, although there’s so many things you want to tell him. Your heart is taking leaps inside your chest. The hairs of his body tickle you making you giggle; his teeth take a bite between your shoulder and neck. Your breath hitches, a half-moaned gasp escapes you. “S-sandor” You can’t help but hold yourself on him, his hands descending from your back to the soft skin of your ass. He squeezes lightly then moves further down, gripping the back of your thighs. You groan at the slow teasing, deciding to sit on his crotch, tying your feet behind his back. He smiles, more like simpers, keeping you anchored there. His lips come back up to kiss you, eating your face off hungrily. You can only hold his face for dear life, gasping at the bulge under you. You have to close your eyes. Your core finally knows some satisfaction, you grind slowly onto him. The water slows your movements, making you groan. He holds your thighs spread open, moving his hips slowly. A low rumble vibrates from your mouth straight to your clit.

That’s when you open your eyes. The dream stops.

“Sandor” You say, trying to separate yourself from him. It’s almost painful to do so, but those eyes stare back at you. Their corpses lay under the sun, white and cold. Puddles of blood form under them. Sandor keeps grinding and kissing your neck, not getting your change of mood.

“Please, wait-” You take his face away from you, forcing him to look you in the eye. He frowns, confused. You point your head back to the bodies; he follows your gaze. You sigh, heartbroken. He lowers his head, silently cursing under his breath. You don’t want to leave his warm embrace, putting your cheek on his shoulder. He keeps on holding your legs, standing up with you. Breeze brushes your back, you hug him tighter. He sets you on a prominent rock, which is warm thankfully. As he turns to leave you grab his wrist. He looks at you, letting you guide him down for a soft kiss. He accepts it gladly.

“Let me help you” You say, standing up to put on your grey shorts and tank top. They’re the clothes you had when you first arrived here, and the only ones that have dried up. He stands, shirtless and wet, looking at the dead bodies. “Where they the first men you saw die?” He asks. You can’t see his expression, his hair cascading down his face, covering his eyes. You nod “Yes”. Yes, it shocked you to see them die. But if he didn’t… maybe you wouldn’t be here. You know how these men work, how they think of women. They would have used you and then slit your throat. Just a few hours ago you thought you would never want to see an animal die. Now here you are, three dead men in front of you and you feel glad. You’re so glad to be with him.

He sighs sadly. He’s shown you what a real monster he is, his true self. He’s just an ugly monster, he thinks. You come up to his side, looking for his eyes “And I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you, you know that right?”. You know that he doesn’t want to be touched right now, so you don’t, but nobody forbids you to search for his sad eyes. You want to change that. “Let me help you” You repeat, pointing to the corpses “What can I do?”. He looks at you grumpily, but takes your hands in his “I did this, I have to fix it”. He kisses your knuckles “Can you wash my clothes?” he asks. You roll your eyes, but nod. “I can do that, then I come and help you” You say firmly. He grunts but shakes his head ‘yes’, leaving your hands. You go to the creek again, retrieving the abandoned soap. The spell is broken.

When the bodies are buried and gone, the clothes dried up and the fire is going, a beautiful dusk sets on your heads. Sandor and you sit on the ground, close but not enough for your liking. After the events in the river you two only spoke a few words to each other. You’re worried he might tell you he doesn’t want you anymore, that it was a spur of the moment. So you don’t say anything. He didn’t touch you again and you didn’t try to do it to him, knowing it might upset him. The only way of knowing his emotions was by looking in his eyes. Which was a challenge, since he had his back turned all day. His beautiful, broad back. Now he’s wearing his clean shirt, the armour left aside. His eyes are lost in the flames, giving you his side profile. You have to look at his handsome features. His strong brow bone, his hairy jaw, that crocked nose.

“Stop looking at me like that”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m the most beautiful man on this earth”

You stutter for a moment, making him sigh. You know where this is going. “I think you are” You say. And it’s true, you really think he’s one of the most handsome, gentle, kind and purest men on this earth. He laughs coldly “Tell me then: what do you see in me? Mh?”. He turns to look at you, he has to look you in the eyes while you lie to him. He doesn’t need someone to tell him, he’s been served the truth his entire life. Each time his brother succeeded and he did not. Every fucking time that brat Joffrey called him dog. Or every time a lady walked past him laughing. Every time he had to pay double the price to fuck a whore. The scar he wears is not just physical.

“I think you’re one of the most handsome, loyal and kind men on this earth” You begin, shushing him when he tries to say something “And I know that you’re also one of the most irritating, stubborn and self loathing men to have ever existed, which is completely human. You’re the truest man I know, the fact that you’ve seen all kinds of horrors and survived it makes you honourable. There’s no such thing as the perfect being, like tales and ballads describe heroes. They don’t exist. And I don’t want them. You’re not good, but nobody is. Why do you have to be better when nobody is? Why is it that you have to, like it’s a burden?” you ask.

He’s speechless, which worries you. He usually comes up with sarcastic remarks or blunt objections. He looks at you completely unreadable. You bite your bottom lip, maybe you’ve gone too far? You didn’t want to break him, you only wanted to be true to yourself. You look back down, holding your knees hugged to your chest. The sky going from a light pink to a deep purple. You feel cold in front of the fire.

“You’ll be the death of me”

A large hand takes your chin, making you turn your head. Sandor’s lips crash into yours, taking your breath away. Your hand lingers on his coarse cheek, stroking it ever so slightly. Finally, the fire warms you up. You decide which fire. The kiss is heartbreakingly kind, like he’s pouring his heart out into you. Your eyes water at the thought of him being vulnerable. You kiss him back fierce, a fire burning your chest. Things grow much more heated by the second. He backs off to go to your neck. Sandor’s toungue leaves goose bumps where it lands, making you gasp for air. The tip of his nose caressing the back of your neck. You take him by the shoulders, taking him off of you. The position was making your neck hurt. You make him sit back on his spot, sitting with your legs spread open again. You sit on his crotch, keeping your knees by his hips. He takes you by the sides, holding you still. He nears your face, looking from your lips to your eyes. “Sing for me, little girl” he growls in your ear. You bite your lip to hold back a moan, afraid of the dark: someone might be hearing. He slaps your ass harshly, reprimanding you “I said sing!”. He manhandles you to grind on his cock, making you gasp out a moan. The friction feels heavenly outside the water. He smirks, the sound making himself grow harder. His mouth attacks your collarbone, biting and sucking. You hold him by the neck, gripping his clean hair and pulling hard. You could play that game in two. He groans on your skin, your breasts jumping at the sound. It’s so good to make a quiet man moan your name. You untie the laces of his shirt, signalling for him to pull his arms up. Once you see that big chest you almost drool, his big arms hiding you entirely. You grind back faster, feeling way too close to the edge.

He can feel you going faster and decides to switch places, holding you on the ground beneath him. He grips your tank top and rips it off of you, diving into your chest. He leaves a trail of bites and sucks each nipple hard, making you scream from the pain and pleasure. The knot in your abdomen growing tighter, ready to snap. Your head feels like on cloud nine, you’re a hazy moaning mess. The grip on his hair only grows stronger, making him shiver from head to toes. His hands then grip on your shorts and rip those too. “Fuck these tiny clothes” He murmurs on your stomach, kissing his way down. His beard tickles you, making you giggle and hold back a laugh. However, you can only release a strangled moan: his toungue laps your slit top to bottom. It looks like he knows what he has to look for, to bring you pleasure. You’re shocked: not even some men in your world knew that, let alone someone on a medieval fantasy show. Your lips form a ‘o’ shape, the shocks of pleasure running all over your body. He licks and sucks on your clit with an intent, eyes set on you. He moans on your mound as you scratch his hair. The vibrations send you over the edge, feet tingling. You see and feel white, hot shock waves starting from your toes and ending on the tip of your head. Shivering and hot, you spasm against him, trying to lead him away from your sensitive cunt. He keeps your legs open wide with his strong hold, your weak tries are worthless. He laps and licks, drinking till the last drop of your juices. You have but a few moments to take a breath. Once he’s done he kneels, slapping your thigh for good measure. He unties his trousers and takes his cock in his hand. You want to rub your eyes, because you don’t believe the size of him. His hand – which is gigantic – holds his cock almost entirely, his fingers not touching though. It might be the orgasm or the hormones, but instead of scaring you it makes you grow wetter than before. A challenge you’re glad to accept.

“Ready to take me?”

“Ohh yess, please Sandor!”

To make sure it’ll fit, he turns you around and holds your hip high up. He pumps his length a few times, then rubs it along your juice coated pussy. You moan loudly, head pulled back to look at him while he enters you. The tip stretches you out good, not yet painfully. He goes slow, filling you up inch by inch, holding you by the waist. You know you’ll wake up filled with bruises. You start to hiss from the pain halfway through. You drool on the ground, knees scratched and ass in the air. He stops to let you breath, taking a moment to control himself too. His strong hold on you moves up and under your body, fingers tangling in your tits. He massages them and pulls on your nipples painfully hard, making you squeeze around his cock. He laughs darkly, sending shivers on your spine. You feel so good, yet not quite satisfied. You push your ass back slowly, finally sensing his lower abdomen on your skin. You sigh happily, the tip of his cock feeling deep inside your belly. He stutters, balls deep inside you. “Makin’ me go insane, little girl” He whispers in your ear “Don’t know if I can control myself”. His hips slam up, making you jump forward by the force. You scream, not caring two fucks if someone hears you. If it weren’t for his strong hold on your waist you would have slipped out, his strength feeling unhuman. You struggle to speak “Then- then don’t”. You don’t want him to control himself. You want to feel him truthfully.

He growls like an animal at your words, taking you by the shoulder and saying “Hold on tight then”. He pushes you down on the grass, pulling his hips back. He almost completely exits your entrance, leaving just the tip; you hold your breath. Nothing could have prepared you. You open your mouth on the dirt, no sounds leaving your mouth. You don’t find your voice, nor air in your lungs from the sudden intrusion in your womb. His hips hit you ass painfully, as does his tip inside you. His pushes so strong you jump upwards each thrust, his hips moving too fast not letting you breath. You feel sore already, your entrance burning from the stretch, ass red and aching by the position. You love it.

His hands move but you barely feel them, too caught in the sweet mixture of sensations. One hand grips your hair, pulling you back completely. “Fuuck” You yell, the new position stretching your insides out. The skin of your neck hurts but you finally get to touch him. You groan in his ear, his cock filling you so much more, now that you’re basically sitting on him. His other hand goes under your belly, holding you there. He pumps up into you. His grunts reach your ear, your arms going on his neck to grab his face. He bites the skin of your neck, hard enough to draw blood. You hiss in pain, the stinging of his teeth leaves a burning sensation. He licks the area to soothe the pain, sucking your blood away. You kiss his neck while trying to ride him as much as you can. The hand on your belly pushes, making you feel just how deep he is inside you. He moans “Feel h-here” taking your hand and leading it downwards. You look down and, with his help, press down. He leaps up and you can feel the tip of his cock moving inside of you. More wetness leaves your entrance at the sight, your eyes watering by the building pleasure. You push down on him more, taking his large hand now. You guide it down to your clit and he understands. He flicks and swirls the nub, edging you closer to your end. You ride with him now, straining the muscles of your thighs by the pressure. Your voices mix together, the sounds of slapping skin are of background. You turn your head, getting closer to his face. You don’t kiss him though, you just want to look at him while you cum. The fire light casts shadows on his face, the dips of his scar more evident. His black eyes shining in pleasure, half lidded and intense.

You gasp as you feel his dark gaze on you, looking down to see your doom. The tight knot in your womb is ready to snatch, he notices. His fingers move faster, getting close himself to the edge, stuttering violently. You feel the light tingle in your limbs, gasping for the last time and holding tightly on his neck. You grab for dear life on him; he holds you, trying to keep you up. The knot snaps and you feel liquid gush out of you, the pleasure too much to handle. “’s too good” Your insides grip him, milk him towards his end. He curses under his breath, biting you again. You feel him fill you up, balls slapping your clit, making you jump out of overstimulation. His last thrusts are the hardest, you don’t have the time to think that he just came inside. You feel like butter in his hands, and teeth – which are still gripping your neck. The last drops of your pleasure subside. He kisses your neck tenderly, apologizing silently for the roughness. You come to your senses when he moves slightly, your pussy aching. He positions you both on your sides, you feeling too weak to move on your own. Your thighs hurt too much.

He moves slowly to slip out of your entrance, making sure not to hurt you. You can only hiss silently, feeling your belly being emptied out. You touch there, the area sore and swollen. You smile sleepy, the cold grass making contrast with your hot skin. Sandor gets up shakily, using your ripped shorts to clean you up. How many times have you washed yourself today? You’ve lost count. And to think it was the whole meaning of this day.

“Come here little girl, you have to get dressed” He says, already getting back in his clothes. You groan but nod, you know you should. He offers his hand to help you up. You accept it but, as soon as you get up, you fall down on your ass. Your legs fail to make you stand. You frown for a good two seconds then start to laugh. He barks out a laugh as well, all smug for reducing you in such way. He shakes his head, the hair that stick to his forehead move freely in the small breeze. You can’t stop smiling, you love to see him this happy. He hands you your clothes, deciding to put them on while sitting. Your legs needed a few more hours to regain their strength. He sits again beside you.

“Wasn’t too hard, right?”

“A bit, but that’s alright”

“Did I hurt you?”

“Hahah, I wish you did more”

You yawn quietly, leaning your head on his shoulder. He sniffles a silent laugh, then sighs deeply. He covers you both with his cloak, letting you hug him. You both lay down, one of his arms grasping you close to him, the other holding his sword tight.

“Thank you”

“For what?”

“Letting me love you”

“Uh…”

He hesitates.

“Thank you”

“For what?”

But he doesn’t answer.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: after the gauntlet that was the honeymoon fic, i’m back with something shorter and sweet. i’m obsessed with girl dad drei, so that’s actually getting a bit of a focus the next few fics 🥰 again, posting this before i’m off to the isles/tampon bay (not a typo, i’m just a petty, grudge-holding long island gal) game, so give me a little positive energy in the tags!

word count: 3.4k

tw: nothing, just the standard google russian 🥲

summary: mother’s day in the svechnikov home

It’s too early for there to be so much noise in the house, you think briefly and through a haze of exhaustion. You roll onto your side, blinking, and Andrei nudges you and murmurs, “go back to sleep, I got it.”

The mattress dips and shifts as he climbs out of bed, stretching a little before he drops a kiss to the top of your head and pads from the room. You press your face back into your pillow and are nearly back to sleep when Andrei returns, the warm, solid weight of nine-month-old Dimitri placed against your side. Instinctively, you curl your arms around your son and tug the sheet up over his little legs. He quiets almost immediately, stretching his arms and legs out in the starfish position that’s a favorite of all the Svechnikov children, no matter how old they are.

“He should sleep a little longer,” Andrei whispers, running one large hand over the baby’s hair.

“Come back to bed,” you sigh, eyes shut and Dimitri’s little fist held in one of your hands. He smells like baby lotion and milk and it’s one of your favorite scents in the world. There’s a banging sound from downstairs and you wince.

Andrei chuckles a little. “Sleep, I’m going to go see what that is,” he strokes the back of his index finger over your cheek and you’re out before he even leaves the room again.

On his way downstairs, Andrei pokes his head into each girl’s room and once he sees that Alina isn’t in her bed, he has a pretty good idea of what the noise is and what he’s going to find in the kitchen.

Sure enough, there’s your second oldest daughter, pots and pans pulled out from the lower cabinets and a small pile of flour on the floor. Andrei clears his throat and Alina looks up, her hands still in the lower pantry cabinet. She grins at him innocently. “Oh, hiiii daddy,” she singsongs.

“Oh, hiiii Alya,” Andrei mimicks her tone, pressing his lips together so he won’t laugh. “What are you doing?”

The five (and a half! “Don’t forget the half, Daddy!”) year old slowly brings her hands back to her side and looks up at Andrei with his own brown eyes deployed to maximum adorable. “Makin’ breakfast for Mama,” she replies sweetly, with a faint undercurrent of ‘duh, isn’t it obvious?’.

He comes further into the kitchen and leans his forearms against the counter of the island, raising an eyebrow at Alina. She shuffles her feet and twists her fingers in the hem of her Disney Princess pajama tap. “Are you supposed to be trying to cook without me or Mama?” He smiles, just a bit, so she knows she’s not really in trouble. Andrei’s always been a soft-touch when it comes to disciplining the girls.

“No,” she sighs, “but I was gonna get you ‘cause I’m not even tall enough to get a plate out of the cabinet.”

Andrei doesn’t believe her for a second - Alina is nothing if not independent and resourceful. He’s pretty sure she would’ve just found something flat to use as a plate in a cabinet she could reach and call it a day. He starts picking up some of the pots and pans and says, “how about we work together to make Mama syrniki for breakfast in bed?”

“Ooh, yes!” Alina hops around in excitement, bouncing over to tug at Andrei’s shirt. “With bacon and s’berries?”

“Yes, with bacon and strawberries,” Andrei confirms on a laugh. “Do you want to see if Evie wants to help?” He pulls the child-sized stool from the corner and sets it against the island so Alina will be able to see and help.

She scrambles to climb onto the stool and shakes her head. “No! She’s too bossy and I just wanna be with you, Daddy,” she says firmly, pushing messy hair out of her eyes with the backs of her hands. Andrei chuckles and gathers her hair into a little pineapple of a bun on top of her head, securing it with one of the black hair ties he’s gotten used to wearing around his wrist. Between you and three daughters, odds are good that someone will have a hair related emergency around Andrei. Alina beams up at him, “thank you, Daddy! Now I can see.”

“Now you can see,” Andrei laughs. He gathers the ingredients for syrniki - farmer’s cheese, eggs, flour, sugar, and salt - and lines them up on the counter in front of Alina. She taps each ingredient and counts out loud, pleased to show off her skills.

“One, two, three, four, five,” she looks up at Andrei for approval and he nods, smiling.

“Try in Russian,” he says, switching languages so Alina can practice. The girls are mostly fluent, since Andrei, his parents, and Geno all practice with them. “Tell me what each ingredient is.”

Alina squints a little before counting off to five in Russian. She manages to tell Andrei the word for each ingredient in Russian, but gets tripped up by farmer’s cheese.

“Good job, Alya,” Andrei kisses the crown of her head. “Say it after me: fermerskiy syr.”

“Fermerskiy syr,” Alina repeats, mangling the new world a little, but Andrei still praises her attempt. “Can we start now, Daddy?” She’s clearly impatient with the Russian lesson.

He sets the measuring cups and a large metal bowl on the counter and nods, “we can start now, Alya.”

Alina grins and digs into the process, pouring ingredients as Andrei instructs her. She dumps flour in the bowl, getting half of it on the counter and her shirt. “Oops,” she looks up at Andrei with wide, worried eyes.

He brushes the flour from her shirt and then “accidentally” spills some on his own shirt. “Oops!” He mimics her, eliciting sweet, childish giggles. He brushes more flour from her face and she wrinkles her nose at him.

The eggs get cracked into the mix and Andrei picks out a few stray pieces of shell, carrying Alina to the sink and holding her by the waist so she can wash her hands. “Raw eggs can make your tummy hurt,” he explains while she soaps up, “if you eat them, even by accident, so you always have to wash your hands.”

“I know, Daddy,” she sighs, clapping her hands together and getting soap bubbles flying in the air. “Mama telled us that when me an’ Evie wanted cookie dough.”

“Mama’s always right,” Andrei teases and when Alina’s done with her hands, he sets her back on the stool so she can mix the dough. He leans against the counter and watches for the most part, since Alina’s perfectly capable of mixing on her own. She starts telling him a rambling story about magical fairies that he’s pretty sure she’s making up on the spot and his chest fills with love for his girl. The hardest part about hockey is how much time he spends on the road. FaceTiming with you and the kids only goes so far. So he’s grateful that Mother’s Day this year fell on the Sunday between Games One and Two with a Canes’ home ice advantage. If he had to be traveling today, he doesn’t think he’d forgive himself.

“Daddy, are you listening?” Alina huffs, frowning at him and looking remarkably like you. He laughs and smooths his thumb over her eyebrows, erasing the frown.

“Yes, Alya, I’m listening,” he says patiently, hoping she doesn’t ask him to repeat the entire story. Alina opens her mouth, but it’s Evie’s voice that cuts in, “Dad? What are you doing?”

Andrei looks over to the stairs where Evie’s rubbing at her eye with the heel of her palm, hair falling messily out of pigtailed braids, and a confused look on her face. Alina grins at her big sister and explains, “we’re makin’ syrniki for Mama.”

“Oh!” Evie’s face brightens and she looks wide awake now. “Can I help?”

“We finished the batter,” Andrei explains, pulling the bowl away from Alina. “And remember that the next step is to fry them in hot oil, so…”

“Only Mom and Dad fry things,” Evie parrots the refrain you and Andrei had drilled into their heads from the time they started showing an interest in helping in the kitchen.

“Exactly,” Andrei points the spoon in his hand at her. “How about you two put foil on the tray and lay out the bacon? Maybe wash the berries?”

Evie nods and dances to the fridge, pulling out the bacon package and going about her tasks with the confidence only a second grader can muster. She bosses Alina around and Andrei has to step in once or twice when Alina gets annoyed at being bossed around. But for the most part, they work well together as he fries the little cakes in oil and sets them on a paper towel covered plate. He loves seeing their relationship blossom and the way Alina follows Evie around like a little duckling always makes him think of himself and Geno. Evie sighs and shows Alina how to wash the strawberries and Andrei’s throat clogs a little with emotion.

When the syrniki are done and the stovetop is turned off, Andrei claps his hands together and the girls look over at him. “We’re almost ready to surprise Mama,” he grins at their enthusiastic cheering. If you’re not awake yet, you will be soon. “Alya, why don’t you go wake up Kira so she can join us. Evie, can you go down into the basement, behind the toolbox, there’s a big bag with Mama’s gifts from you girls.”

Alina squints at him as Evie darts off to the basement. Andrei squats down to Alina’s eye level and asks, “what’s going on, Alya?”

“What are you gonna be doing?” She cocks her hip, planting her hand firmly on it. With her sagging little bun and strawberry stained pajama top, she looks like a harried mother of a dozen toddlers and Andrei resists the urge to laugh.

“I’m going to get breakfast ready on a tray for Mama,” he explains. “So we can bring it to her in bed.”

Alina nods, clearly happy with his answer. “Okay,” she pats his cheek and skips off, calling behind her, “don’t forget the sour cream!”

Twenty minutes later, Andrei has breakfast plated and on the tray, Evie is holding the shopping bag, and Alina’s back with Kira, having held the three-year-old’s hand while they both slid down the stairs on their butts, the way Evie had taught them. Andrei ushers the girls back up the stairs, all of them moving extremely slowly behind Kira. He probably should have thought this out better, but too late for that now. “Okay,” he whispers outside of the master bedroom door, “we have to go in quietly just in case Mama and Dimka are still sleeping.”

Kira and Alina burst through the door, smacking it against the opposite wall, and Andrei winces. But you and Dimitri are already awake and you gasp in faux-surprise, since your daughters aren’t exactly the quietest humans. Carefully moving Dimitri off of your breast and adjusting your sweater, you grin, “oh my gosh! My favorite girls!”

“S’pise, Mama! S’pise!” Kira screams, grinning and climbing up on the bed.

“Happy Mother’s Day!” Evie says, practically tossing the shopping bag on the bed. Alina crawls into your lap, cooing over Dimitri before planting a smacking kiss on your cheek.

You kiss her back, squishing her cheeks between your thumb and index finger. She wiggles away and nearly kicks at the tray Andrei’s resting on the foot of the bed. “Oh, look, Mama! Daddy and I maded syrniki,” she crows, bouncing to her knees and pointing at the tray. Kira’s already reaching for a strawberry and Evie steals a piece of bacon.

Andrei grins at you, “better get some food before the little myshki nibble it all up.” He leans over to kiss you briefly.

“This looks delicious,” you say, shifting Dimitri in your arms. He squawks in annoyance when Kira rolls over and jostles him. She makes a kissy face at him and just as quickly, he’s giggling. You settle him on the mattress and he grabs for Kira with chubby hands. “Thank you,” you murmur, accepting the mug of coffee Andrei hands you, while lifting and curling your leg so Dimitri is in the reasonably safe position of being enclosed by your leg if he decides to move around. “You guys did such an amazing job.”

“I spilled flour but we cleaned it up,” Alina informs you through a mouthful of sour cream and syrniki. Andrei holds a hand under her chin to catch the falling crumbs.

“That must be my present then,” you deadpan, reaching out to get a forkful of your breakfast. “Oh wow,” you murmur around the mouthful, “that’s really good, Drei.”

He ruffles Alina’s bangs, “all thanks to my sous chef.”

While the kids nibble at breakfast, Evie pushes your presents into your lap. “You have to open the gifts, Mom! Wait until you see what we got you.”

It always makes your heart twinge when Evie calls you ‘mom’, missing the days when your oldest baby called you ‘mama.’ Andrei had nearly cried the first time she called him ‘dad’ instead of ‘papa.’ It’s probably how you ended up with four kids. The second one switches to ‘mom’ and ‘dad’, you need to have another.

Holding a piece of strawberry in front of Dimitri’s face for him to gnaw on, you unwrap your gifts with the other hand. Andrei’s finally sitting on the edge of the bed now, a mug of his own coffee in reach, but Alina’s draped over his lap, eating a piece of bacon and Kira’s standing on the mattress, holding his shoulders, with Andrei’s arm wrapped securely around her legs. Evie’s sitting cross-legged in the middle of the mattress, making faces at Dimitri so he’ll laugh and eating syrniki. There are so many crumbs on the bed.

You open the cards, not exaggerating when you exclaim over the handmade cards from the older two girls, stick figure drawings of you front and center on the covers. Kira and Dimitri contributed scribbles on another card, with their names printed underneath in Andrei’s chicken-scratch. His card - a Hallmark special - makes you cry with its inscription talking about how much you do for the family and how you’re the rock and the glue that keeps everyone together and how much Andrei loves you.

You look up and catch his eye, giving him a wobbly-chinned smile. He mouths ‘I love you’ and pops the dimple.

The pile of gifts include a glitter and paint covered picture frame from Evie complete with a photo of the two of you on the beach from last summer, Alina drapes a macaroni necklace over your head and you’re honestly surprised that this is still a thing kids are making in school but you love it nonetheless, there’s a new Stanley mug in Canes’ red to replace the one Andrei accidentally ran over with his car, a vintage Fleetwood Mac Rumours shirt you’ve been eyeing on eBay, and last but not least, a small black jewelry box that Andrei passes to Evie to give to you.

“Drei,” you murmur, “I really didn’t need anything.”

“I know,” he shrugs one shoulder, trying not to wince as Kira pulls at his hair. “I like spoiling you.”

“Open it, mama!” Alina sighs dramatically and Andrei tickles her, getting her shrieking with laughter and begging him to stop. The other three kids get in on it, laughing and making general noises of insanity. You sit back and watch them for a minute, stroking Dimitri’s soft baby hair and feeling so much love for these crazy people that are all yours.

“Okay, okay,” you call over the noise, “I’m opening my present from Daddy.” You pop the top on the velvet box and gasp a little when you see the necklace. It’s a thin gold chain with five horizontal letters on it. Two As, an E, a K, and a D. The little letters are studded with tiny diamonds and they glitter prettily in the light.

The girls crowd you and ooh and ah over the necklace. “It’s so pretty, Mom,” Evie gently traces one of the letters.

“It’s sparkly,” Alina says, a glint in her eyes. “I like sparkles.”

“Those are Mama’s sparkles, little magpie,” Andrei warns teasingly. He looks up at you, smiling shyly. “You like it?”

“I love it,” you reply, pulling the necklace from the box and dodging small, grabby hands to clasp it around your neck. It’s a shorter chain, so it hugs close to your neck resting at your collarbone. It layers perfectly with the cross you’ve worn every day since Andrei gifted it to you during your honeymoon in Greece. You run your fingers over both pieces, a soft smile playing at your lips. “This is the best Mother’s Day ever, all thanks to my favorite people.” You pull the girls close to you and kiss their cheeks and heads, making dramatic kissing noises so they’ll laugh. Eventually, after they’ve eaten all of your breakfast, they get bored of being in the bed and Alina and Evie roll off the mattress, heading for their rooms, knowing that lunch with the four grandparents is on the schedule for the day.

You’re left alone with Andrei and the two babies. They’re swapped now, Dimitri in Andrei’s lap and chewing on a chubby fist and Kira in your lap, playing with your necklaces. She looks tired and your smooth her hair back from her face while you snuggle her close. “This was so sweet, Drei,” you sigh. “I know you’re thinking about playoffs, but I appreciate everything you did this morning.”

“Solnyshka,” Andrei leans forward, mindful of Dimitri, and cradles your face in his hand. You lean into his touch and his thumb caresses your cheekbone. “You and the kids are the most important thing. I don’t get to play hockey without you here taking care of everything. Breakfast in bed and a few gifts are the least I can do.”

Feeling emotional, you angle your head and kiss the inside of his wrist. “Still. Thank you, my love.”

Andrei’s eyes twinkle and he tilts his chin to the breakfast tray. “I think you missed a gift,” he says and you reach over, pulling a little envelope out from underneath the empty plate.

Quirking an eyebrow at him, you murmur, “what do you have up your sleeve, Mister Svechnikov?” and open the envelope and withdraw a ticket confirmation page. There are little doodles - a sun, a palm tree, beach chairs, two stick figures in a compromising position - around the words and you finally focus on the location. Bora Bora. “What’s this?”

“This year’s vacation,” Andrei grins. “Just us. The parents, all four of them, have agreed to babysit for a week while we soak up some sun in a hut on the water.”

You shake your head at him, in disbelief. “How are you this amazing? How did I get so lucky?” You grin down at Kira. “Your Daddy is my favorite person in the whole world.”

“Me too!” Kira exclaims, lunging for Andrei’s lap. He catches her and laughs, kissing her cheek. She pats his face and frowns at the stubble.

“You deserve it and more, moya koroleva,” Andrei says. His tongue darts out and wets his lower lip. “More will have to wait though,” he bounces the kids on his lap. “When we have a less impressionable audience. For now…” he grabs your ankle and slides your across the sheets, slanting his lips over yours and biting at your lower lip gently. His tongue sweeps inside your mouth, the promise of more rushing through your veins.

And then Dimitri shrieks because Kira’s poked him in the eye and more is absolutely not happening. Andrei swoops Dimitri into his arms and gets off the bed, heading down the hall, and you lift Kira onto your hip and bring her to her own room to get ready. Evie’s singing along to the Alexa in her room and you can hear Alina telling herself a story. The noise echoes around the hallway, delightful chaos.

“Happy Mother’s Day, solnyshka,” Andrei winks at you. You grin back, loving every second.

[dutifullynuttywitch]

Close Call - Part 1

Wake the Dead

Pairing: Eva Archer x Troy Hassan

Rating: Teen (cw swearing)

Word count: 2,000

Summary: Eva is terrified that something may have happened to Brynn while out scouting.

A/N: Wake the Dead AU, takes place before WTD events. Can be read as a single shot, builds on my previous WtD fics Starlit nights, Sisterly Advice.

Art by the supremely talented @oh-so-youre-a-nerd 💛

Tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations @wakethedead-group-re-read

Eva paces back and forth nervously across the small room she shared with Brynn.

Her sister and her crew were out on a scouting expedition a days’ drive from the Tower. They had been expected back three days ago. It wasn’t the first time they’d been delayed, forced to lay low after encountering too many drones or car issues. But they’d always radio back.

Not this time.

Her mind hadn’t stopped spinning through increasingly dire scenarios as the hours went by. She’d gone through her pest control shifts on autopilot and spent the nights wide awake, too worried to sleep. Staring at that damned door, willing her sister to barge through it with her typical bravado and yet another hair-raising story to tell.

She feels a bubble of panic constrict her chest. She has to do something.

Squaring her shoulders, Eva strides across the crowded hallways over to the airlock entrance. She spots Andrew Scott, head of scouting units in a heated discussion with one of Blackstock’s goons.

“ – been having some radio issues but hopefully comms’ll be up and running again in no time. That damned antenna’s on its last leg…”

“Hey! Andrew! When the hell are you going to send a crew out there to help my sister?”

Andrew whirls around, a sympathetic look etched across his features.

“Eva –”

He’s interrupted by Blackstock’s lackey.

“Watch your language, you insolent brat. We’re not going to put another crew in danger because you decided to throw a little temper tantrum. Now run along unless you want to be put on waste disposal for the month.”

Furious, she rounds on the little man.

“Listen here, asshole, my sister and her friends are the reason the Tower even has resources like medicine, food, weapons. They risk their necks every day for this colony and you’re just gonna leave them out there?”

Andrew intervenes just as the now red-faced man signals over to two burly guards.

“Oookay, okay Eva, Melvin, let’s everyone take a deep breath. No need to escalate things, I’ll handle her.”

“Deal with her, Scott, or I will.”

The little man stares daggers at her before stalking away haughtily.

Andrew waits a beat before turning his focus back to her.

“Eva, how long have we known each other? Ya need to trust me to look out for my crew. I already asked a team to detour to Brynn’s last known location yesterday. But this, pissing off the higher-ups – not helping. You gotta tone it down. Especially if you still want to join our team in a few years.”

The towering man squeezes her shoulder sympathetically.

“I’m sorry, Andrew. I’m just really worried about Brynn… Please let me know as soon as you have news?”

“Of course. Now scram before you get us into any more hot water.”

Eva slowly walks back, dejected. She detours by the supply depot, hoping to run into Troy.

“Hey, Archer! Been wondering when I’d see your pretty face around here.”

Troy’s bright smile quickly turns into a concerned frown.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Brynn, she… they’ve gone missing.”

He steps out from behind the counter and wraps her in a tight hug. Eva melts into his warm embrace, letting his familiar scent surround and comfort her.

Troy’s heart breaks for her. He’s used to seeing her so strong, fearless. But right now, she feels small and fragile in his arms.

He tightens his hold on her, burying his face in her hair. She smells good, with just a hint of lavender from the contraband soaps he’d gifted her.

That scent had been driving him crazy for months.

He’s been captivated by Eva for years now, really, if he’s honest with himself.

Troy is not exactly sure when their friendship had blossomed into something more for him.

It had been gradual.

He first noticed those lovely dimples whenever she smiled. The way her blue eyes sparkled with mischief when she thought of a new prank to drive her sister up the walls.

He started getting unpleasant pangs of jealousy whenever Eva dated other men.

But it was that first evening he took her stargazing months ago, alone out on that windy balcony, Eva wrapped snuggly in his arms, he’d come to the realization he had truly fallen for his best friend.

And it had terrified him.

Eva and Brynn were the most important people he had in the world. Ever since he pantsed little Eva Archer back in first grade.

She had stolen his ration bar; Troy had reacted without thinking. After the initial shock had passed, Eva pulled her pants back on and ran after him like a little devil, yelling in outrage. Backed into a wall and terrified of this tiny red-haired tornado, Troy quickly apologized. She sized him up for a moment, then said “I’m not gonna hurt you, silly!” Little Eva wrapped him in a bone-crushing hug and gave him back the bar. He broke it in half, “Here, lets share.” From that moment, they had been inseparable.

Brynn, noticing their camaraderie and realizing Troy was all alone in the Tower, started looking out for him. She’d invite him along for meals, making sure he had his rations. Got him new clothes when his were becoming too worn down. Scolded him and Eva when they got into trouble – which was a regular occurrence. And, more recently, nagged him for his not-so-legal hobbies.

They had become his chosen family.

What if he fucked it all up?

He had a tendency to do just that, as his exes would point out.

Plus, there was the little matter of the side hustle he ran behind Blackstock’s back. God forbid they’d associate Eva too closely with him if things went south.

“Hey, watch it!”

The sudden bustle of people at change of shift snaps him back to reality.

Reminds him he’s standing in the middle of a busy hallway with an upset Eva in his arms.

He releases her clumsily, trying to clear the unwelcomed thoughts.

Troy ushers her into the confines of the supply depot, lowering the shutters for good measure. He sits her down on a tattered couch and settles in next to her.

“Eva, what happened?”

She looks down at her hands, eyes glistening.

“Andrew lost contact with Brynn and her crew three days ago. There’s another team out searching the area, but I’m worried, Troy. What if they don’t find her? What if they’re too late?”

“Hey now. Your sister’s the second most badass person I know, right after you. I swear the two of you are like fierce amazon warriors.”

Eva rolls her eyes, sniffling lightly.

“I’m not even gonna ask.”

“The point is, I know Brynn’s alright. She’s one of the best scouts the Tower’s got. And she’s careful. They’re most likely laying low somewhere. She'll be back in no time busting your ass for even worrying about her.”

“I… I’m sure you’re right, Troy. She is good at what she does. So are the others. I guess I... needed to hear it from someone else. Thanks for always being there for me.”

She forces a smile, her glistening eyes sparkling in the dim light of the cluttered room.

“Always, Eva.”

He gazes down at her, tenderness and concern reflected in his soft brown eyes as he pulls her closer into his arms, tracing soothing circles along her back. He wipes a tear from her cheeks, fingers lingering along her cheekbone.

Her breath hitches as she loses herself in his soft gaze and the warmth of his embrace.

Eva feels like a bundle of nerves from the stress, and the tingles she’s feeling from Troy’s caresses are messing with her usual self-control.

Right now, she wants to feel less the nerves constricting her chest, and more of Troy’s comforting touches.

On impulse she reaches up, tracing lithe fingers along his cheek and the dark stubble across his jaw. She unconsciously chews her lower lip.

He stares, entranced. God how he wants to reach out and kiss those lovely lips. He wonders what they’d taste like. Possibly those berry-flavoured ration bars she enjoys so much.

“Eva…”

Troy murmurs, lips ghosting hers.

She lets her instincts guide her, a need she’d been burying for so long. She closes the distance, soft lips meeting his.

Troy’s eyes widen in surprise. He cups her cheek as they kiss gently, tentatively, lips exploring in soft caresses. Bodies tingling with delight at the new but somehow familiar sensations.

“Hmm, Troy.”

He deepens the kiss at her inviting sigh, finally tasting her. Salt from her tears.

And cherries.

Troy loses the last of his self-control. His kisses become heated as he slips a hand below her shirt, skirting her lower back. Eva clings to him, responding to his every touch.

Just as their caresses become more feverish, they are startled apart by a loud banging against the shutters.

“Oi! Hassan! Open up! We’ve got crews reporting back with equipment.”

They glance at each other, eyes wide, breathless.

Troy is the first to recover, filling the awkward silence with his usual banter.

“Well, that was something, Archer… I knew you couldn’t resist this.”

He gestures at his handsome features, grinning.

Eva chuckles, cheeks flushed.

“God you’re insufferable…”

The banging against the shutters intensifies.

“Hassan!! What’s the hold up?!”

“Dammit! Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

Troy doesn’t want to let Eva go.

He’s scared that she'll realize how big of a mistake this was. Head still spinning, he quickly makes his way up to the counter.

Eva watches him go, flushed, heart pounding wildly in her chest.

Oh god, what just happened?

He pulls up the shutters and stops in his tracks, eyes wide with relief and a hint of guilt.

“Brynn!! Boy, am I glad to see you.”

At her sister’s name, Eva rushes up to the front and crashes into her arms.

“Brynn, you’re okay! What the hell happened? You had me worried…”

Brynn winces, and Eva lets her go quickly, giving her a once over. Her sister’s shirt is tattered, a dark bruise appearing to cover much of her right side. Dirk hovers protectively. Cassidy cradles an apparent broken arm as Brienne helps her stand.

Tony’s crew are right behind, carrying both teams’ weapons and crates of canned food and medical supplies.

“We were picking out meds in an outlet mall when the roof collapsed, must have been water damage. Bunch of drones fell on top of us from the second floor. Cassidy and I got trapped under a shelf. Dirk and Brienne managed to drag us out. We hid in a storage room hoping the drones would forget about the yummy human-sized snacks...”

“Looks like we got there just in time. There must have been two dozen of em’ packed into that little pharmacy. Had to lure them out to get to you.”

Tony chips in, dropping off the weapons and supplies onto the counter.

“We owe you one, Tony.”

Brynn pats him on the shoulder, grimacing through the pain.

“Nah, just glad you’re all still on the side of the living. You and Cass should hit the infirmary. You look like you’ve got a couple of cracked ribs and I’m pretty sure arms don’t bend that way.”

“You don’t say.”

Cassidy growls, clutching her bandaged arm.

“Come one, I’ll take you.”

Eva tenderly supports Brynn, avoiding the bruises.

She hesitates a moment, looking back at Troy, cheeks flushed.

“Talk later?”

“Yeah... sure.”

Troy rubs the back of his neck, dreading that conversation. He was an idiot to kiss her when she was at her most vulnerable, worried about Brynn. What if she regretted it? Hated him for it?

He sighs miserably and starts cataloguing the equipment.

The taste of salt and cherries lingers on his lips.

[vro0m]

Seeing how confident McLaren is about their car and their drivers makes me nervous. I saw that Toto extended his contract at Merc through 2026 and it just feels like same sh*t, different toilet. I think Toto should just be satisfied as the owner of the team and step aside and let another TP come in and change the culture at Merc. I think that could potentially attract new engineers that could help with the development of the car.

Lewis is struggling with his qualifying times and George is overconfident. At this point, it's starting to feel like Merc is just not that girl. Why are they starting all over again with their car? I'm fairly new to f1, but I thought it takes years to develop a championship-winning car, yet they're developing a brand new one over the winter? That doesn't feel right to me.

Also, I didn't understand TeamLH bragging about Lewis retaining Monster as his sponsor, when Monster jumped ship from Merc to McLaren. Isn't losing sponsorships a bad thing, since the team is losing money that it would likely use to develop the car that would help Lewis win his 8th WDC? A loss for the team is a loss for Lewis..unless I'm wrong.

I truly hope Merc proves me wrong, but something's gotta give. I just don't have confidence in them.

Do you think that Merc needs a major overhaul or do you think they're going to make progress continuing on the path that they're on?

Okay i was gonna answer this in the morning but i can’t sleep so here we go, sorry if it’s a bit unhinged.

Here’s the thing. In my book, the second rule of F1 is never ever listen to a team principal. (The first rule being, of course, you always, always have to do better than your teammate.) So I’ll believe McLaren’s confidence is warranted when I’ll see it. Hell, I’ll believe they really are confident and it’s not basic 101 PR when I’ll see it. And mind you, Toto seems pretty confident too. (The only thing I’m happy about here is that he also said they’ve been working on their pitstops but due to Rule 2, I’ll also only believe it when I’ll see it.)

They’re starting over with their car because, as you noticed, the past two cars were Not Working. So no real choice here but to get back to square 1 rather than spend a third year trying to make a car that doesn’t work, work. Building a championship-winning car is less a matter of time (I mean especially nowadays with the costcap and windtunnel allocation etc. it’s getting irrelevant), and more a matter of getting it right. RedBull got it right and they won. The problem is : the others need to develop to catch up to them because they didn’t get it as right as RB, and that takes time and resources and is very complicated. And if you have a bad starting point, it’s that much more difficult. Basically there were too many things that needed changing with this car concept anyway. So they’re starting over. But it's also not like they don't have data and experiments from the past two years. They know more about these regs and cars than in 2021. Are they gonna win the ‘24 championship with the W15? No. But they weren’t gonna win by keeping the last, dysfunctional car concept either anyway. At least now they have a chance to develop in the right direction.

I did not read anything about the Monster sponsorship because i really, really don’t care. I didn’t even know that was a thing. I don’t think Monster leaving Mercedes is gonna make a dent in their budget. First of all, there’s a costcap now, so they can’t throw money at a bad car to make it good anyway. Second of all, they have a lot of other sponsors. Third, they’re the second most expensive team in the paddock. And fourth, their parent company is worth 85 billions of dollars. Lewis’ 8th has pretty much nothing to do with Monster or any sponsorship.

To answer your main question : no, I don’t think Merc needs a major overhaul. Given that you’re fairly new to F1 I concede it might not look like it in the current context but changing TPs is actually Not All That. And it generally doesn’t really solve anything. If anything I’m against major overhauls. Imho a stable ground is the best ground to build up on. Toto is... Toto. But he’s not the reason why the car is bad. It’s a whole team. 2’000+ employees. You can’t pinpoint any of the problems they have on one singular person. I mean Ferrari has had 5 different TPs in the last 10 years and that has solved exactly zero of their problems, and they still haven’t won a championship since 2007.

They are making progress. All of them are. It’s just, it’s F1. We’re talking about such tiny tiny differences in performance now, millimeters off of a piece of carbon fiber, milliseconds off of a time sheet. The time the pecking order could be turned upside down from one race to the next has been gone for decades. It’s all about the long game when the differences are so subtle. Even more now that they, again, can’t just throw money and wind tunnels at issues. It’s frustrating when it’s not your driver/team on top but success is mostly cyclical in this sport. Right now it’s RedBull. Next who knows. Merc is just not that girl, at the moment. It is what it is.

ETA : btw I think firing Toto would really throw Lewis off so. Another reason not to imo.

[antvnger]

I'm sad we had an anthill in our garden. I loved watching them going around their day. My brother and I even put food around the garden for them to find it. I figured this would be better because they still had to look for it for themslef but they would defintely find something. So they always had something to eat but wouldn't get used to being fed by someone else.

Today I my brothers stupid "friends" destroed it with some sticks and throwing stones at it :(

I screamed so loud at them and was so furious. My brother tried to stop them but they would just push him away and call him names. That's when he came to me and called me for help. I'm not mad at him he tried his best. His friends are all way bigger than him and they were also more than him. It was three big boys agains one smaller one. He even got an black eye because of them.

And now I feel so sad for the poor ants and my brother. He feels so guilty because he couldn't do more to help. My brother just turned three a few days ago and has such a big heart. Because of him we made our garden animal friendly we have a lot of stuff for all kinds of animals to hide and find food and no matter what comes to our garden is allowed to stay. No matter if it's spiders, ants, bees, birds or other animals.

I tried to talk to him and explain that it wasn't his fault but it didn't really help. Do you have any ideas what I could do to make him feel better maybe an idea how the both of us could help the ants? And maybe you could send him some love? He is a really big Ant-Man and the Wasp fan. They're his favorite superheros and it broke my heart when he said under tears Scott, Hope, Hank and Janet would all be disapointed and mad at him for not helping the ants :(

-Ant-Friend

Ohhhhh Anon! You’re breaking my heart! Your poor brother. He got a black eye and everything? That poor kid.

Okay so to help the ants, make sure there’s good soil or sand nearby. That’s what they build their homes with. Some little sticks and pine needles would be great too. Those help strengthen their walls. Keep leaving food like you have been. I know they really appreciate that. And finally, let the ants do their thing. They are really resourceful and they can handle cave-ins like this. I really believe they’re gonna be okay.

The good news is that their tunnels extend many feet below ground and extend out anywhere from feet to miles, depending on the species. So with that being said, this cave in won’t hurt the colony as much as it seems and they more than likely have more than one entrance. And they should have plenty of food down there too.

As for your brother, keep telling him how good a job he did and that he did nothing wrong. And do me a favor and show him this video for me, will you?

Transcript 👇🏻

Hi buddy! Ant-Man here, I heard about those big bullies who hurt you and hurt the ants. I’m so sorry all of that happened, buddy. That’s not fair that all of that happened to you guys. And I heard that you thought that I or the Wasp or Hank and Janet would be mad at you or disappointed in you. Let me tell you something okay? I want you to know I’m so proud of you! You acted like a hero for the ants. You stood up to those big bullies and tried to help save the ants. You’re such a brave brave boy, and the Wasp and I are super proud of you. I know it didn’t work out like you wanted it to, but it’s gonna be okay, buddy. Things will get better. The ants will be okay. You’re gonna be okay too. You’re one awesome person, buddy, and I think the ants are pretty lucky to have you as a friend. I think I’d be pretty lucky to have you as a friend too. You take care of that eye, buddy, okay? You have your big sibling keep me posted on how you’re doing. Get better soon! See ya!

[she-karev]

Out of Nowhere

Age Rating: 12+

Chapter: Six of Six

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

AN: Here’s the final chapter you guys. I’m hoping to post the next chapter by spring break. I’m in classes and busy AF so bear with me. I always appreciate a like and reblog.

Summary: Amber spends the night at Alex and Jo’s with Andrew accompanying her.

Words: 1829

I walk down the hall with Qadri, Helm and Casey who insist they come with me to find Andrew. I hold an ice pack against my already bruised fist that I used to punch Stadler. At least one good thing came from today.

If I wasn’t so scared Paul would confront me again I would be more annoyed than grateful that I had a village with me. The friends I had growing up were the kind who were looking for a good time and I followed. They would never get in between me and a dangerous man not like these guys did. The whole month I’ve known them I’ve done nothing but insult them and say repeatedly I am gonna beat them in an O.R. and yet they didn’t think twice before protecting me. It feels nice to have not just coworkers but friends who would go above and beyond for you. I decide in that moment to be more friendly towards them and more forth coming.

“Thank you, Casey.” Casey looks at me surprised by my gratitude and I don’t blame him, “I…I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come in when you did…no I do know. He would have attacked me and claimed he was defending himself from the violent intern.”

“Well at least you got to punch him.” Helm says impressed by me, “I would go to jail happy I did that at least.”

“Taryn.” Qadri snaps at her and she quiets. Dahlia focuses on me, “Tell me you’re not gonna be alone tonight. I can let you stay with me for a few days.”

“I’ll come over.” Parker offers and I grin at him.

“Thanks you guys but I’m gonna stay with my brother tonight.” I exhale exhausted, “This fucking day I swear.”

“I can imagine.” Casey remarks, “That guy Dr. Stadler, how do you know him?”

I shake my head at that knowing it’s not my story to tell, “It doesn’t matter telling you guys why he’s harassing me won’t make him stop and it won’t change what he just did to me.” I notice that one of our own is missing, “Where’s Schmitt?”

“He’s spending the night in a patient room.” Qadri tells me as we continue walking, “Blood loss is pretty big and they want to give him the luxury treatment after he saved a patient.”

“Lucky him.” Helm says bitterly and I nod in agreement. I would take passing out in an O.R. after directly donating blood over the day I just had. We stop by the station where Andrew sees me and his face scrunches in worry. I probably look as awful as I feel.

Andrew approaches me and gently asks, “Hey what’s wrong?”

I swallow uneasily, “So many things.”

“He came to the lockers.” Andrew’s face forms into shock as Qadri explains, “He was in her face, calling her names and she punched him. Parker had to push him to the ground and threaten him so he can leave.”

“That bastard.” Andrew says in anger, “Did he hurt you?”

“Not physically. He’s too smart to do that.” I admit grudgingly, “But he did reveal every moment of my life and didn’t skimp on the parts that would make a good horror film.” I lift my ice pack grimacing at the purplish color around my knuckles, “And his face is evidence enough to get me in the slammer. How the hell does he know about me?” That part scares me the most, the resources he had to gather my whole life even the sealed records.

Andrew looks down guilty, “He said he had a guy look into you and find out what he could.”

I look at him in shock over this new information and not just about Paul, “You knew about this and you didn’t tell me?” I don’t keep the anger out of my tone.

Andrew’s eyes widen at my sudden change in demeanor, “I-I didn’t think about it I was just trying to distract him so he wouldn’t see you talking to Jenny. And I was afraid you’d freak out.”

“I was already freaked out!” I yell at him under my breath so I don’t attract attention, “This guy has been stalking me and was this close to running me off the road at least this little piece of info would save me from being humiliated in my workplace. You should’ve told me.”

Andrew tries to calm me down but I’m too pissed, “I know and I’m sorry, I was just trying to look out for you.”

I get angrier at that statement, “I don’t need you to look out for me. I have been doing that by myself since I was 16 and unfortunately, I can say that to these guys because thanks to that fucking creep everybody knows I’m the plotline in a Stephen King novel.” Andrew’s face falls at my cruel statement the others look on awkwardly clearly uncomfortable viewing the most intimate part of my relationship, “God! I hate this fucking day!”

Andrew inhales before speaking, “I know me too.”

“He knows where’s Alex and Jo live.” I inform him fearfully, “I-I can’t go there or my apartment or the on-call room. Aside from moving to another state and changing my name it’s just a matter of time until he gets to me.”

“I’m not gonna let that happen.” Andrew grasps my shoulders to calm me down, “I promise he’s not gonna hurt you as long as I’m with you.”

I scoff, “Is that how you want to spend your life? Attached to my side at home and work?”

“No that won’t happen.” Parker tells me to reassure me but it doesn’t work, “Tomorrow we’ll go to the police and get a restraining order on him.”

I sniffle at the predicament I’m in. All I want to do is crawl under my blanket and pretend the world doesn’t exist. But I can’t, no amount of daydreaming is gonna get this fucking creep off my back and Andrew can’t be with me every second of every day same goes for my friends. Even with a restraining order there’s no guarantee he’s gonna stop.

“This can’t be happening to me.” I say blankly causing the others to look at me in pity including Andrew.

Andrew looks at me in sympathy before responding, “Come on I’ll drive you to your place and to Alex’s.” I nod warily and exchange good nights with my friends before leaving with Andrew.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I knock on the steel pocket door and wait patiently outside with Andrew who has one of my bags in his hands. The door rolls and Alex is on the other side in pajamas relieved to see us.

“Come in.” We go inside and I plop my suitcase by the couch ready for bed, “Did you have any trouble on the way?”

“No.” I sit on the couch and take my boots off, “I think he got the message after I punched him to Kingdom Come.”

Alex looks at me shocked, “You punched him?”

“Yeah.” I hold up my bruised hand as evidence, “Don’t even bother lecturing me because what’s done is done and no amount of scolding will take it back.”

“I just have one question.” I motion for him to ask, “Did you put your weight on it?”

I snort at that, “Of course I did.” Alex nods approvingly and makes a fist at me encouraging me to bump it. I roll my eyes but grin and fist bump him in victory. I look at the bed and see that Jo is deep in sleep no doubt crashing from the events of today, “How is she?”

“Awful.” Alex says in pity and I feel bad for him, “DeLuca thanks for driving her here I know…this is probably the last place you want to be at.” I mentally groan as I remember this loft is where the scene of the crime took place. I fully expect Andrew to drop my bags and head on his merry way but I see he’s shaking his head.

“No worries man.” I’m shocked by how cavalier he sounds being back at the place he was beat up, “I’d rather she be here than back at that small death trap she calls an apartment.”

I roll my eyes at his unfortunately true comment on my living quarters, “Yeah well Zillow isn’t reliable when it comes to apartments with high accommodations for interns with terrible credit. Speaking of which the laundry machines in my building have been broken for a week so…” I open my suitcase revealing the dirty clothes I desperately need to wash, “Where’s your washer and dryer?”

Alex grins slightly and shows me where the laundry machines are so I can get started. The simple act of washing and drying my clothes keeps my mind off the fact that Paul could be right outside waiting for the moment to strike. I get my black sweatpants and blue sweater knit top and set the couch up with pillows and blankets for the night. Satisfied with the arrangement I set myself up on the couch getting ready for bed. I look to see Andrew putting a blanket mat and pillow on the floor by the couch before sitting down to my confusion.

“What are you doing?”

Andrew looks up at me from his spot, “I’m sleeping on the floor.”

“No, you’re not.” I state and pull my blanket back on the surprisingly roomy couch, “Come on get in here.”

Andrew looks uncomfortable and looks behind the couch. I look in that direction and see Alex and Jo who are curled up in bed. I understand now why he’s hesitant to sleep in the same bed which makes me roll my eyes. I give a ‘really?’ look at the guy who shrugs.

“For god sakes man it’s 2017.” I keep my couch open to him, “We’re both adults and it’s way too late to act like we haven’t slept in the same bed.”

“It’s weird.”

“It’s only weird if you make it weird.” I inform him and pat on the couch, “Now get in here or I’ll get on the floor with you, either way we’re gonna be huddled together so it might as well be in a semi comfy couch. I have had a long day and what will make me feel better is you lying down with me and holding me.”

Andrew sighs in defeat before standing up and lying on the couch with me practically squished in the back. I make space by moving closer to him so that my head is pillowed on his chest and my arm is draped over his ribcage. He holds me close to him with his arm around my shoulders that I find comforting. Finally for the first time in two days I sleep blissfully on my brother’s couch huddled up against this man and forget about the world for tonight.

[darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght]

Chapter 6- Part 3

Through this corner and up this hallway we go, aaand here we’ve got some more Grunts!

It’s more likely than you think!

Alright, this isn’t so bad- Riptide can handle Aron pretty easily. Water Gun time, baby!

Heck yeah. Well- not for Budew, both Aron and Zubat have been ganging up on it, very sad. Anyways, back to attacking-

Hm- Riptide’s not doing as much damage to Zubat as I’d like, not to mention he just got a level-up…so you know what? I’ll switch into Whiskers, she’s got Zen Headbutt anyways.

Speaking of switching, uh…

You know what? Sandile’s a much better matchup against the Zubat than Budew. In fact, it’s such a better matchup that Sandile ends up stealing Whiskers’ kill with Bite!

Eh…a victory is a victory I guess, and Whiskers gets the exp. points either way.

Oh- his Sandile’s Ability is Moxie? That’ll be good to remember in the future.

You’re not allowed to do that punchline!! I already did it!!

Alright, so, continuing on up here, we kinda turn these corners, and then…

Hey, there’s an item up there! I don’t think we can go up to the second floor just yet, but when we do, I’ll have to remember to grab whatever that is.

AND THEN X HAD TO LEAVE TO TAKE CARE OF IRL STUFF.

SHE CAME BACK AFTER SEVERAL HOURS.

So, it is currently 9:30 PM as of the time of writing this. I could wait until tomorrow morning to continue on with this escapade, when I’m a little less tired, but I’d actually rather not do that, soooo…

(Future edit: Little did I know, I would have no choice but to put the rest of this play session off until the next day anyways, but I digress-)

Also, through the power of saving the game, I have discovered this location is called Mosswater Industrial! As I said before: YEAH DUDE, IT SURE IS!

Now, despite the fact that Ace told the Grunts to slow us down and we need to stop them from deleting all the data (I’m assuming), I…don’t think there’s an actual time constraint? Like, Fern didn’t say anything like “we need to get up there as soon as possible, we can’t waste time fighting everyone” or something, and there’s no indication of a legit time limit, so like…I don’t think there’s a penalty to fighting all the Grunts we come across.

In other words, despite the fact that we went around these two, we’re gonna beat them up anyways.

Alright, what have we here…I don’t think we have anything that’s specifically good against either of these, but Streak can still hold his own. And we can start that with Tail Whip, which will lower both Rattata and Lillipup’s Defenses at the same time! 

This’ll be useful not just for Streak, but for Fern’s Sandile as well because uuuuuh…well, Budew got knocked out again. RIP, I guess.

So, neither Streak nor Sandile are super great against these two, but they’re still doing…something. I’m having Streak focus on Lillipup for the time being-

Which worked out very well! Now these two can just focus on the Rattata and win the battle, which also works out well enough- ignore Streak’s HP, he’s fine.

Can’t believe Xera and Fern are exterminators now- but given that was a bit of a running gag with a D&D campaign me and some friends did (lest we forget Slap Her Bald Head Sunday), I’m fine with carrying on the legacy in this playthrough.

And I was heading into the menu to check something, and I finally noticed something…

The party gets healed after every battle! I didn’t even notice that in the last few battles, but now that I do- great! That means I’ll have an easier time saving resources (namely those Potions) during this. My cheapskate arc in this game continues on apace!

Previous

Next

[officialleehadan]

Taken Home

Confidence Scheme

+++

Will took Venganza back to his house.

“It’s an opportunity,” Will had told Alexis over the phone while he had their medical tam look over Venganza. The blood turned out to be from a shallow, but long cut down his arm. It didn’t need stitches, so Medical cleaned it, bandaged it, and sent him on his way. “He doesn’t have a Vanessa at home to talk him into working with us, but I can fix that right now if we’re fast. This is our chance to show him we’re the right people to side with. He needs to know that we aren’t going to just arrest him because we can.”

“You had better be right about this,” Alexis told him dubiously, but he already knew that she was going to let him do what he wanted this time. Venganza was too valuable a resource, and he was spooked right now. Someone was after him, with guns, and he had only barely escaped. “If he bolts on us, we’re never gonna see him again.”

“I know,” Will assured her, although there was a real chance that Venganza would do exactly that. It was his job to keep it from happening. “I do know, but I also know that if I give him safe harbor right now, he’s going to be a lot more willing to work with us later.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t tell me you’re doubting Vanessa’s ability to bring a thief in from the cold.”

Alexis had laughed, but she hadn’t argued, either. Smart woman. Vanessa could rule the world if she felt like it. Venganza wouldn’t know what hit him. Will texted Vanessa, who was almost certainly stress-baking, as she always did when he got an emergency call, and headed home with a thief in his front seat, still bundled up in his coat.

“So, what’s it to be?” Venganza asked once they were on the road, in the privacy of the car. He was looking less frantic, but still cornered, and he had put on a southern drawl to hide behind. Will didn’t love that, but there wasn’t much to be done about it right now. Not until he could get Venganza home and be certain of their safety. “The Department of Justice, to pay for my crimes? Witness protection? A quiet vanishing in an alley somewhere?”

Oh boy. He really wasn’t in a good headspace if that was what he was expecting.

“Well,’ Will said, careful to keep any pretense of practiced soothing out of his voice. It wouldn’t work on someone who knew accents and voices as well as Venganza, and would probably spook him more. “My wife tends to stress-bake, and she likes chocolate, so I’m betting there’s brownies at home, but she might be making bread. I can take you to the DoJ if you want, but my guest room is more comfortable.”

“You’re joking,” Venganza said, apparently stunned back into that northwest accent all at once. He stared at Will with a conman’s eye for details and a magician’s eye for cold reading, and his mouth dropped open. “You’re not joking. You’re actually taking me back to your house.”

“It’s not the dinner date I imagined, with lasagna and all,” Will said and gave him a grin that made Venganza huff something like a pained laugh. “But I figure box brownies are better than handcuffs.”

“I like handcuffs.”

“I’m not putting you in handcuffs until your arm heals up, no matter how pretty you ask.”

The joking, and the flirting, did the job that assurances hadn’t, and Venganza finally relaxed back into the car seat. He was probably too amped up on adrenaline to feel it, but he was going to hurt tomorrow, thanks to the muscle strain of hanging off a building. His arm shouldn’t get wet, but Will was tempted to try and talk him into taking a bath.

Maybe he would leave that to Vanessa. She was better at that sort of thing than he was.

The drive back to his house wasn’t a long one, even given that he was following traffic laws this time, and deliberately taking corners gently to try and keep from jostling Venganza’s bad arm.

“How do you want me to introduce you to Vanessa?” Will asked when they turned the corner on to his street. “She’ll respect whatever name you give her. Doesn’t have to be your own.”

“Leonardo is fine,” Venganza said. Will winced internally and corrected himself in his head. He should really get used to calling the thief by his chosen name. He had been quiet for most of the ride. Coming down from his brush with death, probably. “Good as anything. You called me Leo on the phone.”

“Heat of the moment,” Will joked and pulled into his driveway. The house was far too expensive for a DoJ agent, but Alexis knew perfectly well that he had assets he wasn’t going to give up when he changed sides. The house had been a wedding gift for Vanessa, and she knew exactly how he paid for it. That was enough for him. It did come with an underground garage, rare in the city, and a comfortable four-bedroom house, with a substantial yard for Vanessa to garden in. The security system was the best money could buy. “Come on. I don’t want you outside for long. I don’t think we were followed, but I’m not discounting the possibility.”

“Think I’ve been shot at enough for the day,” Leonardo agreed wryly and managed to get out of the car with a minimum of fuss. Will waited for him, and then headed up the stairs towards the kitchen and inside. “Cowboy, you sure you want me in your home?”

“If he hadn’t brought you home, I would have yelled at him.”

As Will suspected, Vanessa was in the kitchen, which rather looked like a bomb had gone off. There were two empty boxes of brownie mix on the counter, and Vanessa was working some kind of dough. Herb bread, Will suspected. She liked to make bread when she needed something to hit. At the sight of them, she wiped her hands on her apron and came over immediately.

Leonardo looked like he had been hit over the head with a bat. Will could sympathize. He felt the same way whenever he saw Vanessa. Right now, she looked like a goddess, with her linen apron and her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun.

“Brownies are just about done,” she told Leonardo and paused to steal a kiss from Will on the way. “Will, take him upstairs. He’s not as broad in the shoulders as you, but you’re about the same height. I’m sure you have something that will fit. Oh, what do you want me to call you?”

“Leo’s fine,” Leonardo said, still mostly dumbstruck. Vanessa smiled at him. Will’s knees went a little weak, but they always did that when his wife smiled. Leonardo visibly had no idea how to handle a woman who was so utterly confident in herself. “Nice to meet you, Missus Payne.”

“Vanessa,” she corrected him with a smile that showed her dimples and nodded to Will pointedly. Marching orders issued, he began herding Leonardo towards the stairs up to the bedrooms. “Go get cleaned up. There will be brownies with ice cream when you’re done.”

+++

Confidence Scheme:

Deliberately Careless (Subscriber Only!)

Pure Guess

Phone Trace (Subscriber Only!)

De Vinci Terrace (Subscriber Only!)

Criminal Portraiture (Subscriber Only!)

Evidence Report

Bring a Crowbar

Proposal Lasagna

Hang from a Ledge

Taken Home

Oath Named (New!)

+++

MASTERLIST

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Mono’s on a Mission.

Monotaro, a-are you sure you’re going the right way?

Well, usually I’d take a different route...But with all the doors and vent shafts shut, I’m trying to find my way around.

Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I know how to get back to the lab, just follow me!

Uuugh...This had better be good.

...

What the hell’re we even tryin’ for anyway!? Those yoikers yoinked the yoinked bomb we yoinked and we ended up with jack fuckin’ nothing!

That, brother, is what we’re tryin’ t’ find out! It’s why we gotta get to the lab and contact the boss lady!

Though if you want my guess...I think Shirogane’s takin’ a hostage.

A hostage? You mean...?

The only person who got locked up in here is Kaede Akamatsu. I think’s Shirogane’s keepin’ her ‘ere to lure the FF into a trap.

The hell you sayin’!? The Future Foundation ain’t gonna bust their asses just to save one little girl!

You’re just saying that because you want to eat her, aren’t you?

What gave you that idea!?

UUUGH! Monotaro! That is the THIRD TIME we’ve walked through this doorway!

It is!?

MONOTARO. DO-YOU-NOT-

ABUBUBUBUBUH! How dare you even SPEAK, you broken toaster!

...

Monosuke, don’t be so mean! Monodam is only trying to help.

His “help” is the only reason we’re IN this fucking situation! He had the bomb right in the palm o’ his hand, and he let Akamatsu slip it away from ‘im!

Well...it’s not like he had fingers?

Seriously! The one thing that makes you mildly useful is yer’ rocket boosters, and you can’t even use that shit correctly!

...I...

*THUD!*

AACK!?

Don’t listen to him Monodam. If you have something to suggest, go ahead.

THEN we’ll judge you on it’s usefulness or not.

...THANK-YOU.

MONOTARO. IF-I-AM-NOT-MISTAKEN, DID-YOU-NOT-USE-A-MAP-EARLIER-TO-FIND-THE-RESOURCE-ROOM?

Huh? Uh...yeah?

DID-YOU-MISPLACE-THE-MAP-AT-ANY-POINT?

No, I still have it!

...!?

...!?

...!?

...!?

AND...YOU-AREN’T-USING-IT...WHY-EXACTLY?

...Huh?

IF-WE-USE-THE-MAP, WE-CAN-FIND-THE-MAIN-LAB-WITHOUT-ANY-TROUBLE.

...Hey, you’re right! Ah! There’s using your noggin’

Oh for fuck-GIMME!

Hey!

*Monosuke swipes the map from Monotaro when he pulls it out.

Alright, everyone follow me.

At LAAAST! Just hurry up and get the fuckin’ moniter on!

*Monophanie and Monotaro on command power up the large monitor in the corner of Ando’s lab. Within a few seconds, it starts a call.

...Hello?

Yo, Boss Lady! It’s us!

Oh good. You remembered to call me in case of emergency’s. I’ve been waiting for you.

Yeah, about that. What’s the big idea? The lab’s been locked down and we can barely move about as much as we used to!

Don’t worry. I was waiting for you to contact me, then I was planning on raising the shutters on the interior doors.

INTERIOR? AM-I-TO-TAKE-IT-YOU-DON’T-INTEND-TO-OPEN-THE-MAIN-DOORS?

No. Nor do I plan on lifting the defensive plating. Not until Kaede Akamatsu is dead.

Wait...until she’s dead? You mean you didn’t lock her in here because you wanted a hostage?

No. I don’t care for hostages unless they’re on my target list. Speaking of which, the reason I wanted to contact you is because of exactly that.

With Ando gone, your job as his retainers and helpers has gone with him. If we ever recapture him, I might reemploy you in a pinch, but...

Uh...Shirogane...If I may?

Didn’t you tell us that you planned to have us assist with Danganronpa Survivor?

WHEN it happens. Leave the setup to me. Even with all the setbacks, we’re coming very close.

But I will tell you this much. Survivor will NEVER succeed, so long as Kaede Akamatsu is still alive. There’s no way she’s getting out of that lab, so do whatever it takes to make sure she perishes.

I-FAIL-TO-SEE-HOW-ONE-GIRL’S-DEATH-CAN-DICTATE-WHETHER-OR-NOT-DANGANRONPA-SURVIVOR-GOES-THROUGH-OR-NOT.

Never you mind the logistics, just trust me. You’ll also be glad to know that I’m currently working on getting you-know-what powered up and prepared.

R-Really!? We finally get to-!?

Why didn’t you just do that in the first place!?

There was no need for them. The original purpose of those machines was to keep lore and order, but given that law and order was usually kept in those labs, I didn’t see the need.

Then how come we didn’t get these hours ago when the FF stormed the lab!?

I didn’t know about that until later. Sorry, you can blame Akira’s incompetence for that one.

Akira, off-screen: Sorrryyyy~

Jesus Christmas...

Awright, whatever’s. We’ll do it. But what’s in it for us?

Yeah, we’ve been locked in here like prisoners for who knows how long now? Don’t we deserve some kind of reward?

After it’s done...! Haven’t I already made lots of promises to you Kubs? I promise I’ll follow through with all of them once this is all settled.

A promise is a promise! And if she promised, she can’t break it!

Fair enuf...We’ll see it done Boss Lady.

Good. And one more thing...

Yeah?

DON’T...disappoint me...

*Tsumugi ends the call.

Well, we got a while before our babies come online, so I guess we wait for now.

MAN! SCREW THAT! Shirogane wants this over and done with, and the longer we wait, the more chance Future Foundation has gettin’ in here!

What part of the door’s being totally impenetrable went over your head!?

But the Future Foundation are crafty! If we attack Akamatsu now, we’ll catch her by surprise!

Don’t worry! I got a plan!

Oho...YOU’VE got a plan?

YEP! I sure do! Jus’ watch and learn fella’s! I’ll bring back her head on a stick by sundown!

A-ABOUT-THAT...

*Monodam raises his voice.

What is it now?

NO. IT’S-NOTHING. IT-IS-JUST...

Just what Monodam?

Yeah, spit it out.

ARE-WE-ABSOLUTELY-SURE-THIS-IS-GOING-TO-BE-AS-EASY-AS-WE-THINK?

What’re you sayin’? We kill people all the time. It’s basically our job to torture people.

YES. THAT-IS-TRUE. BUT-BACK-THEN, WE-HAD-THE-PROTECTION-OF-THE-KILLING-GAME-RULES. NOW-WE-DON’T.

WE-CAN-FIGHT-KAEDE-AKAMATSU, BUT-SHE’S-MORE-THAN-CAPABLE-OF-FIGHTING-US-BACK. I-FEAR-IF-WE-GET-COCKY, SHE-MAY-DESTROY-US-ALL.

I-DO-NOT-WANT-TO-LOSE-YOU-ALL-AGAIN, NOT-AFTER-EVERYTHING.

Hrrgh...

Stop growling Monosuke. Monodam...kind of has a point. I mean, most humans can’t fly...

Yeah, I mean...Kaede Akamatsu’s a lot stronger than I remember her being...Then again, my memory’s pretty bad, so...

Your memory is fine in this case Monotaro. But it’s not like we could have ever known how strong she really was back then. Like Monodam said, no one thought to attack us because they didn’t have the strength or the gear, or the power in general.

Hey, what’s with you guy’s gettin’ cold feet over this!? What’s gotten up your crack Monodam!?

I...

[Flashback]

I’m gonna stick to the mission and get these bombs dismantled. If you and your siblings turn back and don’t come after me from this point on…Then…

*sigh* I promise I’ll spare you. We don’t have to see each other ever again.

I-SIMPLY-FEEL-IF-WE-DO-NOT-PROVOKE-KAEDE-AKAMATSU, SHE-WILL-NOT-ATTACK-US-IN-TURN. IT-MAY-BE-OPTIMAL-FOR-OUR-SURVIVAL-NOT-TO-START-A-FIGHT-WITH-HER.

Like...a bee?

I-SUPPOSE.

Oh, so your plan is to just...ignore Shirogane’s orders. REAAAL smart of ya...

THAT-IS-NOT-AT-ALL-WHAT-I...

Well what DID ya mean?

...

Fuck this...Monokid, whatever plan you’ve got, just go for it. If you need us to do anythin’, just say the word.

Keeheeheehee! Oh, bro...There’s only one thing I want you to do.

Sit back and enjoy the performance!

[doopcafe]

The Dad Batch S2E8: Truth and Consequences 

Summary: TDB breaks into Admiral Rampart’s star destroyer and then gets p0wned by Uncle Palps. 

Comments: Best episode yet. 

We open on a little character development between Echo and Omega as Echo explains the “real bad time” he had in a tank on Skako Minor. They’re interrupted by a call from Rex, who says he’s found this episode’s premise: TDB is gonna go to Coruscant and steal from Admiral Rampart. 

(Just wanna mention that we’re exactly two minutes in and we’ve already (1) developed two main characters, (2) established the episode’s premise, and (3) are embarking on the story. I’ve been suffering through new episodes of Star Trek Picard and, well TDB is just so much more competent.)

Anyways, on approach to Coruscant we get a nice cutaway shot to wide-eyed Omega amazed by the city-planet (character consistency!) and we pick up where we left off: Chuchi and Rex have been hanging out with a corpse in a garage. 

There’s a nice bit of dialogue here where Rex mentions the assassin’s ID number has been erased and Tech says he wasn’t aware such a thing was possible. It makes sense that Tech (rather than any other character) says the line and it suggests that if Tech (of all people) didn’t know, then it was probably done by some resourceful people, setting up some mystery. Sorry, just, compared to Picard, this show, again... more competent... 

Right, so Chuchi wants to prove Rampart’s a lying cunt (her words exactly) so TDB plans to steal the evidence from his ship while Chuchi tries out “take your daughter to work day” with Omega. She (Chuchi) talks to Rampart with Omega standing there... and honestly I was a little confused. Doesn’t Rampart know/recognize Omega? I could have sworn there was a previous scene where he would have seen her?

As an aside, I’m getting pretty annoyed with the execution of these political intrigue plots because all these high-profile people are walking around in public spaces having shady, egregiously compromising discussions about sensitive topics when there’s like, a pair of guards or a shopkeeper or whatever just standing there listening to them? This isn’t a problem with the writing, but it’s annoying. Why a public walkway? Why not a sealed office? For example, when my boss wants to talk shit about some employees, we close the door and lower our voices. We don’t stand in the break room and explain how Allen is the reason the middle finger was invented. 

Anyways, their plan works and they get the data to Chuchi. She uses it to reveal Rampart’s role in the destruction of Kamino. So everything works out, right?

Right? 

Wait, what’s this? By god, it’s Creamy Sheev with a steel chair!

Uncle Palps rises into the senate chambers, orders Rampart arrested, and uses Rampart’s destruction of Kamino as justification to pass the army bill (the one he wanted all along), completely f—ing over the heroes.

I really liked this scene. When Palps enters to some sinister Kiner score, the expectation is that shit’s about to get real. And then it does. The scene is not an unsalted pretzel of disappointment (like Picard). No, instead the delivery satisfies the expectation and it’s just delightful. Also, good on Ian McDiarmid for continuing to voice Uncle Palps. The dude’s voice acting is just top notch and really elevates the scene as well.

If anyone's keeping track, that's: Creamy Sheev: 1; TDB: 0

Oh, and then Echo leaves at the end. I’ve been expecting his character to be written out and honestly I'm surprised it took so long. (1) His character is redundant with Tech, (2) he’s one less character to animate, and (3) removing his character would not result in a real, live human being losing their job. So, there’s that. 

My Enjoyment: 5/5 

Damn bitches, this was good shit.

[onceandfutureoshainspector]

Kenji: You're back, but Kasumi isn't with you? Cat: Mister Nakano. Kasumi isn't coming home. She's staying with the synths up North. Kenji: What? I hired you to find her, to bring her back safely! You left her there?

- i mean, she is a grown ass adult, but i see his point. he’s not ready for his kid to leave.

Cat: I did everything I could to make sure she was safe, Kenji. She'll be fine. Kenji: You're sure? It's just... all this nonsense about her being a synth. She doesn't still think she's one of them, does she? Cat: Does it matter, Kenji? She's staying. She has people there she cares about. Kenji: So Rei was right. Kasumi needed to make her own life. Away from us. I guess I... just didn't want to believe she had grown up. That she was going to leave me. 

- ...oh, motherfuck. there’s a link to Shaun here. how i didn’t want to believe he’d genuinely become the villain, the head of the Institute with no hope of me talking him out of it. i guess that might be the intended lesson here - kids make their own decisions, but they’re not the only ones who have to live with them.

Kenji: There's one last thing you and I need to discuss. Your reward. My daughter might not be coming home, but at least she's safe.

- dude, no. don’t reward me for what i just did. don’t.

Kenji: We don't have much to offer, but my father traveled the Commonwealth. He had quite a collection before he died. I buried it all near the house. I'm not the explorer he was. I don't need them. I think they would be better with you.

- i can't take his reward. between DiMA, Kasumi, those poor unpleasant idiots stuck in the Vault forever... i left the Island cleaner than i found it, but i sure as hell got dirtier in the process. i don't deserve praise for a job half done and messily too.

Cat: You don't need to do that. You keep your father's collection for your family. Kenji: Thank you. Perhaps we'll need it someday. God knows plenty has happened to us already... Now, if you'll excuse me, it's... been a long day.

- you’re telling me.

Rei: I'm glad my daughter has found a place where she can make her future. Thank you for making sure she's safe.

- these guys’ll be fine. and hey, they’ve got their boat back. it’s not like they can’t visit.

Nick: In this line of work, you have to expect the unexpected. Still, I've got to admit, I've never had a case quite like Kasumi's. Cat: Really? Never? Nick: Well, there was that time I got hired by someone who'd been frozen in a Vault for 200 years. That one's been a doozy so far... I wonder how Kasumi is gonna do up in Acadia? That place has some big ideals in a world of cruel realism.

- which is exactly why we’re gonna help them out. the Railroad needs someplace it can send synths for safety, and Acadia needs resources and aid. now that we’ve all found each other, we can stand together and make each other stronger.

Nick: Well, the case is closed. Sometimes that's all you can really say.

- :(

- fast traveled back to Nick's office

Ellie: You're back. How'd everything go with the Nakano case? Cat: I tracked Kenji's daughter to a synth refuge up north near Far Harbor. She's made a life there. She ended up deciding to stay. Ellie: I can relate. I left home pretty young, and look at the low-lifes I've ended up with... Thanks for coming in for this one. I knew something good was happening when you and Nick started working together. Don't be a stranger, gumshoe. Nick: If I didn't know better, I'd say you're giving our friend here all the credit... Ellie: Just keeping you on your toes, Nick.

- and Nick’s not alone either. he’ll be alright. i hope.

[astererer]

🦚 🍀♻️ For Venon, Aster, and Romy?

🦚 — peacocking! a headcanon about something my muse has done/would do to show off or impress others.

Aster

Shows off through her sense of style. Her toxic trait is that when someone tells her they like her outfit she will respond with “thanks, it’s thrifted”. No one can copy her looks she will make sure of it. Won’t necessarily be the best or most expensively dressed person in the room, but will always look put together and has a style that is Her Own. This isn’t about trying to impress anyone specifically, she’s just very comfortable with who she is.

Romy

Doesn’t feel the need to impress people, she does her own thing by her own standards. Very much has a “take me as I am because I’m not gonna change for anyone” mentality.

While she doesn’t care for approval or validation from other people on a personal or social level, she will show off her pottery and ceramics. She works hard on her art and knows it won’t get any attention if she doesn’t put it out there.

Vernon

Generally Vern’s a pretty modest guy, sees himself as average all round and prefers not to be centre of attention. Then he got a lot of it anyway due to a joke twitter poll tournament to find Galar’s Sexiest Cabbie that went viral. Has no need or desire to show off because the public seems to think that he’s hot by default and actually he’d prefer it if they’d leave him alone thanks.

🍀 — a four leaf clover! for a headcanon about my muse and a time they have had good luck, and whether or not they believe in good luck charms.

Aster

Aster’s lucky that none of the injuries she’s sustained have been severe enough to cause lasting damage beyond some permanent scarring. Tends to get a few aches and pains when it rains, but otherwise she’s been very fortunate.

Didn’t really get how lucky charms worked as a kid so just randomly assigned one of her pencils as a lucky pencil, then got mad when she didn’t do too well on a test while using it. Hasn’t had a lucky charm since and doesn’t really care about good or bad luck all that much these days anyway. If something happens, it happens.

Romy

Got lucky during her attempt at the Unova League and had to return to Opelucid City to challenge Drayden and get to Victory Road. Lucky in that she managed to avoid running into her parents while passing through her hometown.

Doesn’t believe in good luck charms or superstitions in general. While she acknowledges some parts of life are down to chance, she feels depending on lucky charms or “manifesting” things is a waste of time. If she wants something to happen, she’ll find a way to get it through her own means rather than hope it occurs through luck

Vernon

Managed to get a ticket for one of his favourite bands moments before they all sold out. Didn’t need to refresh the page when they went on sale or anything just straight to seats or standing then making the purchase. Ended up being one of the best nights of his life.

Has a keychain he’s had since he started his cabbie training that he keeps on him as a safe flying charm. Not the most superstitious, but when he started learning to ride a Corviknight he’d be nervous about being so high up and Exposed to the elements. Being on the giant bird’s back is different to sitting inside the cab and all. So he kept this small keychain on him as a grounding measure of sorts. Has since grown out of this anxiety, it’s been many years and he’s used to flying now, but keeps it on him out of habit.

♻️ — reduce, reuse and recycle! a headcanon about my muse and how they recycle and/or reuse things, how they stretch their money/resources and how they approach being environmental.

Aster

During her travelling years Aster was very careful about how she stretched her money and resources. She knows how to travel lightly and how much she needs to use of things like detergent, toiletries and foods like pasta or rice to make them go as far as possible before she has to buy more. Gotten into a no waste habit when it comes to food, never buys more than she needs for the week and has never had to throw something out that went mouldy because she never leaves stuff long enough to expire.

Spending habits while travelling were about spending as little as possible at all times, if she wanted to do something like going to the cinema or anything else that involved payment for entry she would find a way to sneak in. Money would be saved in order to afford travel to the next region on her list. These days she’s a bit looser with her spending, once rent and bills are paid for the month and she knows how much money she needs for food, she’s liable to go on shopping sprees. Now she has stability in her life and isn’t constantly on the road she is able to collect things and very much enjoys doing so. If she’s ever low on cash she just heads over to Black City and go up Black Tower to earn some extra spending money. She’s a competent enough trainer to do well lol.

Romy

Like Aster, Romy tries to avoid being wasteful where possible and is pretty good at stretching the lifetime of stuff like toiletries as far as possible. Also as an artist she’s figured out how to stretch her supplies so she can make as much as possible before having to buy more stuff. Couldn’t afford her own sculpting tools for a while so had to make her own out of household items, still uses them sometimes too.

Doesn’t drive, spends her free time raising plants and is vegetarian. Pretty eco-conscious individual, makes an effort to shop sustainably when it comes to clothing. Has her pokemon help her with her work by producing clay and water, so saves money on buying the raw materials (still has to buy glazes and stuff though).

Vernon

Can be a bit lazy with recycling sometimes, forgets to sort his trash on occasion when he’s tired but since he doesn’t have a car and travels via Corviknight he thinks he’s doing his bit in that way. Fewer carbon emissions and stuff.

Tries to be careful with his money and claims he prefers to save for a rainy day over going on shopping sprees. That being said, the coffee beans he likes aren’t exactly cheap and he does pamper his pokemon a lot, buying treats and good quality grooming supplies for them, sometimes taking them to grooming salons too for an extra bit of specialist care. Spends more on his beasts than he does on himself honestly.