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candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 3 years

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if I can never give you peace — zero || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and the girl’s father decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

Until he comes back.

Also available on Ao3.

Word count (chapter): 5.8k

Genre: Mafia AU, Hybrid AU, enemies to lovers, heavy on angst, slow burn, eventual smut

Warnings & Tags (chapter): Descriptions of Violence, Tension, Dehumanization and general poor treatment of hybrids

A/N: So I have two modes and those are tooth-rotting fluff and angst feast. This is... not fluff. I hope you’ll enjoy this first installment and introduction to the series, and I will see you soon for the next one!

Your eyes follow Jungkook’s every step as he walks through the crowd and enters the cage that serves as a ring. He doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re watching. You’re always watching. You’re standing in your usual corner, from where you make sure everything goes smoothly. Two tall, muscular men stand on either side of you. They look like they’re your bodyguards, but really, they’re here to handle him if he tries to do something. To everyone in the room but the two of you, this looks like every other fight night since the very first time he came to the Circle.

You’re too far for him to smell you, especially over the crowd of excited, sweaty men, but if he did, he’s sure he would pick up on the bitter scent of anxiety, would hear your heart beating a little too fast. He’d say you’re lucky the guards aren’t hybrids, but he knows that’s not the case. You never count on luck. Everybody knows that. That’s what makes you so good at your job. That’s what might just save his life.

He glances at you, finds your eyes glued on him, and gives you a smirk, which reveals his abnormally pointy teeth for a rabbit hybrid. It’s been over a year since they’ve been sharpened for him, to make him look more threatening. You’re used to them, but he still sees you swallow. For the first time he wonders, vaguely, if you had any say in that. You’re the one he meets with nowadays, but you’re not his owner, after all.

Your eyes leave him to look at his opponent. The man’s taller and has broad shoulders, he seems to have some training based on his on-guard position, and he’s older than him. You couldn’t find many informations on him, but based on his attributes, he’s probably some kind of dog hybrid.

You both know he doesn’t stand a chance.

“On my left,” the announcer roars, “some fresh meat! I give you… Jin!”

There are enthusiastic shouts, and the man shoots nervous glances around him at the crowd all around him. It’s clear that he isn’t used to that type of setting, and you feel an unexpected wave a guilt in your chest. He’s going to get destroyed tonight, you’re sure of it. You’re the one who suggested that Jungkook should fight a newbie, for the show. You don’t regret your decision, but you don’t feel good about it either.

“And on my right! The man who needs no introduction, who has won thirty! Two! Fights in a row, I give you… Jungkook!”

The crowd goes hysterical, and the hybrid facing him winces again. If he thought he had chance before that, it’s clear that he doesn’t anymore. You wonder if he’d heard about Jungkook, if his owners had prepared him well enough, if whoever owned him was betting against him. You wonder if he’d just been told he would be fighting a rabbit hybrid and assumed he would be fine.

Jungkook’s long ears are flat against his head, carefully tucked under a headband, and without those, he doesn’t look like a rabbit hybrid, too tall and broad-shouldered. Then again, he had never really been your typical rabbit hybrid.

Truth was, you had been relieved when you had been assigned to working for the daughter of Mr. Xanders. Your whole life, you had known you would end up here. Your dad had worked for the Family since before your birth, and though it was clear your mom disapproved, she had never held any illusion that you would escape it. If anything, you were the sacrifice, a way of making sure your siblings wouldn’t be forced to work for the most powerful crime family in town. That was, if you did good enough.

Getting assigned to the girl who was nicknamed “the Princess” was both a blessing and a curse. It meant you got to stay away from most of the illegal stuff, as the girl was notoriously sheltered from all of that by her father. However, it also meant that you had to basically babysit the spoiled seventeen years old, despite her being only a few years younger than you. You had dressed as professionally and sternly as you could, adorning yourself in a dark woman’s suit, but she hadn’t seemed impressed.

That was how you found yourself here, at an auction for rare hybrids. You thought the whole thing was grim — oh, how naive you had to be back then, to think this was bad — but you had obeyed orders without batting an eye. You had to do this right, and this was a pretty easy job, after all.

You gritted your teeth silently as various hybrids were brought on stage, exhibited and bought, one by one. The status of hybrids was a complicated subject in the country, always had been, but you had grown up in a poor area, where a lot of hybrids lived freely, and the idea of owning what you knew to be a person made you sick to your stomach. At least the Princess hadn’t said a word the whole time you’d been there, and you had hopes that you would leave without — God — buying someone.

Naive. So damn naive.

“I want this one,” the girl had announced decidedly, pointing at the stage with a movement of her chin.

Shit.

You looked at the stage. There, the auctioneer was highly praising the hybrid who had last been brought on stage. A surprisingly tall and muscular rabbit hybrid, with fluffy black hair and long ears falling on either side of his head. He was shaking slightly, sending terrified looks around him, and your heart tightened in your chest.

Naive and soft.

“Are you sure?” you asked, and the girl rolled her eyes.

“Do your job. Get him for me.”

Numbers flashed in your mind, the exact amount of money you were allowed to spend clear as day. It made you feel a little better, for a second. This was what you were good with; numbers, facts, informations. If you thought of the hybrid as just that — a number, an element to compose with — you should be able to do what you were supposed to do. Do your damn job, and ensure your little brother never ever had to work here, because they wouldn’t be as kind to him.

You took a deep breath, and, after a few people had already considerably raised the price, you made your bid.

Jungkook walks to the center of the ring, arms raised high. He’s good at giving a show, good at most things, actually. He looks good here, confident, knowing exactly what he’s worth, and he’s nothing like what he was that first day. There is absolutely no fear on his face as he fists the air and people shout for him. Instead, he seems to be positively thriving on the attention he’s getting.

He’s a favorite here, because he always gives people what they came for. He makes the fight last, makes it theatrical, with twists and impressive moves. It’s been a while since he’s struggled in a fight, really struggled, which has made it easier. You recognize you’ve played your part in that. You have your word to say when picking his opponents, and you don’t want him to— well, to die, or to be too badly injured.

You know it’s not much. You know no matter what you tell yourself, that’s not protecting him. You know you should have acted a lot earlier.

But you didn’t.

They gave you Jungkook as soon as the payment was confirmed, which didn’t take long. People were fidgeting in the room, careful not to stare too long at the Princess. They knew who she was, of course. The bodyguards and your ghostly presence, one step behind her, did not do anything to soothe their nerves. No one actually knew you back then. You hadn’t earned your reputation of efficiency, no one had called you a cold-hearted bitch yet, though that would pretty much become your identifier, but you were still somewhat unnerving, with your stillness and your all black attire.

Which was why you never tried to add color to it.

The Princess seemed to be in her element, not bothered by the silence and people’s obvious fear of her, even for a second. Instead, she was watching her acquisition. The hybrid — Jungkook, you remembered, because you’d heard his name after winning the auction — was staring at the floor, stealing glances at her every once in a while, before quickly looking away again. He was clearly shy, and terrified, and it looked like the Princess liked that.

When they handed the leash to her, she was quick to clip it on his collar, and you held back your disgust. Your mind went to Mark, a kind golden retriever hybrid you had grown up with, and the idea of him being collared like that almost made you retch.

But, of course, none of that could be seen on your face. You had been told that you had the perfect poker face, unreadable at all times. In moments like this, it was a true blessing.

“Hello, Jungkook, I’m Anna, and I’m your new owner. I’m going to take good care of you.”

Then Jungkook looked up at her, briefly, and an adorable smile curved his lips.

You knew then that this could only end in pain and heartbreak.

Once Jungkook is done, he turns to face Jin. The other hybrid looks like he wants to run away, but even if he tried it, he’d be pushed right back in. So he does the smart thing, and prepares himself for the fight, lifting his hands to protect himself. Jungkook does the same thing. There is a brief moment of silence, everyone bracing themselves for what is to come. Despite his earlier display, Jungkook is deathly calm now, every muscle in his body ready for action.

The second the bell rings, Jungkook is moving, so fast he’s almost blurry, and you have to avert your eyes when his fist connects with the other hybrid’s chest.

This all feels like it could have been avoided.

A relationship quickly developed between the shy bunny and the Princess. You didn’t say anything about it; that wasn’t what you were here for. A baby-sitter, sure, but not a chaperone. Anyway, it seemed like Mr. Xanders wasn’t too worried about that, and his daughter was free to do whatever she wanted as long as she didn’t get pregnant. You supposed a hybrid was the perfect choice for that, with how rare it was for them to have children with a human. It could happen, of course, but it was highly unlikely without medical assistance.

Still, you weren’t sure you liked the relationship all that much. It just felt like Anna had so much power over him. He was a couple of years older than her, since selling hybrids under eighteen was technically illegal, but it was clear from the very beginning that he had been sheltered and didn’t have much experience in— well, in any areas. A sickening feeling told you that had probably been done on purpose by the people who had raised him. You were well aware of what rabbit hybrids were usually bought for.

You watched, silently, as they got close, as Anna’s hands started to easily find Jungkook’s, as Jungkook started to rest his head on her shoulder, to scent her, as he fell in love with her. Today, maybe you would have been annoyed at the sight, annoyed by his innocence, but back then, it only made you sad.

You were also there to see Anna grow bored of him. It didn’t even take her that long, no more than a couple of months.

When she insisted on going to another hybrid auction, and asked you to bid on someone else, you knew that it was over.

“Get him to fight,” Mr. Xanders told you dismissively at a meeting you had with him. “I want the money he cost me back.”

“He’s a rabbit hybrid,” you had said, frowning. “He’s not exactly the fighting type.”

“I didn’t tell you to make him win,” he scoffed. “I don’t care if you have to bet against him. Get my money back. After that, I don’t care what you do with him.”

You didn’t realize then that that was a ‘promotion’, and that this meant you would start working in illegal settings. All you knew was the painful weight in your chest at the idea of sending Jungkook to his death. You had kept away from him, not trying to create any bonds with him, but he smiled politely and kindly when he saw you.

God, he was in love with Anna. You were sure he had noticed her losing interest in him, but you also believed he held out hope. This could— This would probably be crushing for him.

So you took the matter into your own hands. You didn’t just sign him up for an upcoming fight, but you also found him a trainer, the best you could.

“Does Anna want me to learn how to fight?” he had asked you, big brown eyes looking at you, when you had told him about the training. “So I can be her bodyguard?”

“My orders don’t come from Anna,” you’d answered, trying to stay as distant as possible.

“But will she— Do you think she’ll like me again, if I learn to fight?”

No. You thought Anna had gotten everything she wanted from him.

“I don’t know,” you had answered. You couldn’t. You couldn’t do it.

The first fight had been brutal. Devastating, in fact. Jungkook had been training, and you’d been told he was good at what he was doing, but, as a newbie, he’d been sent against an expert fighter — “for the show”, you’d heard, the exact same thing you would use as well, years later —, and you were later told he was lucky he’d made it out alive.

You stayed next to him in the hospital room. As a hybrid, he healed quickly, but he still looked terrible, body marred with black and blue, lip busted, and black eyes. When he woke up, he looked around the room, every movement he made clearly painful, and you knew, at his expression, that there was only one thing he thought about in that moment.

Anna wasn’t there.

You would never forget the look he gave you then. The way he set his jaw, the way something hardened in his eyes.

“Get out,” he had said, and you were pretty sure he had meant for it to sound aggressive, but he wasn’t good at it yet, so it was more pleading.

You had gotten up, made a move to— to pat his shoulder, to do something, but you had refrained and your hand had fallen down to your side.

“I’m sorry,” you had said, and you had left him alone in there, with his broken hopes and heart.

That night was the first and last time you considered leaving your job.

But there was no quitting, where you worked.

In the ring, of course, Jungkook is good. He leaves an opening for the guy to place a few punches, ones that can’t hurt him too much. The crowd is delirious, bets are being placed. There’s a rumor that Jungkook was injured at the last fight so tonight could be the night where he loses his title, couldn’t it? The first round is coming to an end, and he doesn’t seem to have done much so, surely, he’s not going to be able to end that guy by the third, like he usually does — and if he does, hey, at least they’ll have had one hell of a show.

The three rounds thing is something you asked him to do after an organizer told you people needed that to feel they had gotten their money’s worth. You had told Jungkook, and he’d growled an answer, but he had never won in less than that since. For all his obvious hatred of you, the organization, and everything that surrounded him, he didn’t actively oppose you most of the time. He had tried to run away, twice, but when those attempts had failed, he had seemed to realize that it was just easier to go with the flow.

When the second round starts, though, he goes wild. His bare feet are light on the floor, his fists quick and precise. He doesn’t leave anything to luck either. Every punch lands exactly where he wants it to, when he wants it to. He dodges his opponent’s attacks easily, and he sees in his eyes the moment when the man realizes that he’s not winning this. He sees confidence turn into surprise, then into fear, and it only makes him want blood.

His right hook hits the man in the jaw with all the power he can put into it, and this time you don’t wince. You’ve gotten used to the violence now — it always takes you a while — and you’re mostly impressed at how good Jungkook is.

But that’s exactly why you’re in this situation, isn’t it?

“We should put him down,” Mr. Xanders said, with the exact same dismissive tone he had used years ago to tell you to make Jungkook fight, and you looked at him in disbelief. Surely, surely, he didn’t mean—

“I really disapprove of that solution, dad,” Anna said, shaking her head, and you realized he did.

You had been surprised by Anna’s presence, when you had walked into the office. You hadn’t worked for her in a long time, having graduated to far worse things. You had served your purpose, you supposed, made yourself practically indispensable when it came to the organizing of the Family’s business, as you knew the workings of the Family in and out, both legal and… less legal aspects. No one had ever said anything about your siblings joining.

“He attacked someone,” her father simply shrugged.

“If I may, Mr. X, it was after a fight and the man was being really aggressive after he lost the money he’d bet against—”

“I don’t care,” he said, waving his hand like you were just an annoying fly. “He attacked a human. We can’t have our hybrids doing that, otherwise it will just be chaos. You’re smart enough to know that.”

You swallowed. Something inside you was screaming. You had long shut down any form of moral compass, but it seemed like Jungkook always awoke the last remnants of it. You were pretty sure he despised you now, and you didn’t blame him for it. But, just like what you’d thought when Anna had bought him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this just wasn’t right.

“I understand, sir.”

“That’s a horrible thing you’re doing, dad,” Anna insisted. “I thought you’d try to at least reason with him, (Y/N).”

That wasn’t your job. You knew when your opinion was asked on those things, and now was not one of those times. You also knew that you hated that she called you by your first name, like the two of you were friends, and you didn’t say anything about that either.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Mr. Xanders said warmly, like he had just refused to buy her an expensive toy, and not condemned a man to death. “I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

Anna sighed and rolled her eyes, and you assumed she’d probably stay mad at him for a while. But not too long.

Your heart was beating so loud in your chest you barely heard Mr. Xanders dismissing you, and you were relieved to be left alone when you walked out. There was only one thing you wanted to be thinking about now.

How were you going to save Jungkook’s life?

Jin hits the floor and doesn’t get up. It’s not an actual knock-out, because he’s still moving around, but Jungkook doubts he’ll even try to get back on his feet. The guy seems to be smart, he probably realizes that that would be suicide. Another minute with him on the ring? Nah. That would be a really, really stupid thing to do. Jungkook’s knuckles are bleeding — he doesn’t think they’ve been intact once in the four years he’s been fighting — and he’s pretty much unstoppable, right now.

He lets the referee grab his arm and lift it in the air as the crowd screams. They’re particularly loud tonight, because he won in two rounds. It’s not really a surprise when they force the entrance of the cage, flooding it, and Jungkook looks for you, almost instinctively. When he finds you, your eyes are on your phone. You look like you couldn’t care less about what’s happening around you, and he knows you do genuinely dislike the fights. You’ve never made it a secret. You’ve never taken care of the other hybrids owned by the family who participate, either. He doesn’t know if he’s your burden, or if you’re the one who chooses to still do that. Before, he wouldn’t have doubted it. Now… He’s not so sure.

Your eyes flicker up to his for a second, and you nod, imperceptibly. Your heart is probably beating as loud as his right now, though for different reasons.

Jungkook examines you, takes in how out of place you are in that environment, immaculately dressed, small glasses on your nose, hair pulled back, and lets himself be amused by it, one last time.

And then he’s gone.

You only visited Jungkook when there was about to be a fight, and it was clear he really didn’t like it when you showed up. You always seemed to be interrupting him, whether it was a training session or a work-out. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him do something other than those two things. You didn’t know if he had anything else.

You brought some food from a restaurant he liked, as you usually did, and got some things for the guards who would be around. That wasn’t as usual, but you had done it before, so hopefully it wouldn’t make anyone suspicious and it would allow you to have some privacy with Jungkook.

He sat down opposite from you, immediately diving into the food you’d brought, and you watched silently. His shoulders were tense, never completely down but, though he would hate to admit it, he was more relaxed around you than around anyone else. It said a lot about his life, about how desperate he was for any form of companionship, that the way you told him about his opponents almost made him feel like you cared about him. It said a lot that your presence comforted him, and it was pretty pathetic, if you asked him.

“So, who am I fighting?” he asked while eating. He never bothered with his manners when he was around you.

“A newbie,” you said. “Some fighting training from what I’ve gathered, but he shouldn’t be an issue.”

He growled. The sound was unnatural for a rabbit hybrid, but he had mastered it over the years. It was a good way of intimidating people.

“Really? I thought I told you I wanted a challenge.”

You didn’t reply immediately, and that made him look up at you. When he did, you were chewing on the inside of your cheek, hesitant. That was completely out of character. Then, you made up your mind, and your expression turned back to the unreadable one he was so familiar with.

“Keep eating, and don’t raise your voice” you ordered.

He lifted an eyebrow. Normally, he would have done something like folding his arms and waited for more, in a defiant attitude, but this was you. You would never do something like that just to assert your power over him. He hated your guts, but that was one thing he could say about you.

“Mr. X is going to have you killed because you attacked that man at your last fight.”

There. Direct, to the point, not a useless word — though you couldn’t bring yourself to use the words “put you down”. Jungkook froze for a half a second, than resumed his eating, albeit slower than before.

“It was all good as long as long as I brought him money, but he doesn’t want any trouble for it, huh?”

His voice was bitter and low, barely more than a rumble. You were confident no one was paying attention to you, since the guards ate in another part of the house and no one cared about what you were saying. They could see you through the picture window, but they couldn’t read lips. Still, you lowered your voice as well.

“Win your next fight in two rounds,” you said, instead of answering him.

He shot you a dirty glance.

“Do you really think that’s what I—”

“That should get the crowd to lose their mind,” you continued. You had gone through all the possibilities in your mind, over and over again. This was the one that was the safest for you and your family, while giving Jungkook a reasonable chance of survival. “When that happens, you’ll use the hysteria to leave through your opponent’s entrance.”

This got his attention, and he stopped trying to interrupt you, finally focusing on your words.

“I can probably get you somewhere between five and ten minutes before everyone finds out you’re missing.”

He scoffed.

“That’s very generous of you.”

“I also won’t look too hard for you,” you added, because you would obviously be in charge of that as well. “So as long as you don’t do a terrible job hiding, we probably won’t find you. Stay away from hotels, and don’t get noticed.”

Jungkook stayed silent for a while. He didn’t look at you, jaw set, and you were pretty sure he was weighing the pros and cons of your plan.

“I don’t know if there’ll be another chance,” you told him truthfully. “They want you gone after the fight.”

The silence went on a little longer, before Jungkook spoke again.

“Anna’s said yes to that?”

You didn’t miss the way his voice faltered on her name. You didn’t think he had spoken to her in years, but he still had a soft spot for her, and being reminded of it always made you sad. You had accepted, a long time ago, that life wasn’t fair, but that was particularly true when it came to him. None of what had happened to him was fair. The shy boy with the wide eyes you’d helped buy at the auction deserved better. You didn’t, probably deserved every single bad thing that had happened to you, but for him, you wished you had done something — anything — differently. So you wouldn’t be faced with a jaded, cynical version of that boy right now.

“She opposed it, but her father is still going through with it.”

“So she didn’t oppose it much.”

You didn’t answer that. It was true, and you both knew it.

You glanced at your watch. Your time here was almost over, and you had a lot of responsibilities.

“Will you do it?”

Jungkook glanced at you, eyes wary.

“How do I know you’re telling me the truth? You could just do that so you could have me killed and say I tried to escape.”

You shook your head, almost amused by the possibility.

“I would gain nothing from doing that, and if I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t go about it that way. Will you do it?”

This time, he nodded. He didn’t trust you, but he thought you were telling the truth on this. So following your plan would be just as well.

“Good. I’ll see you for the fight.”

This would have been a good moment to wish him good luck, probably, but you didn’t do luck, so you didn’t say anything. You gave him a quick nod, gathered your things, and then you were out.

You didn’t think to say goodbye.

“We’ll get him when the crowd’s dispersed,” one of the bodyguards says, and you hum noncommittally in response, eyes on your phone.

Moron.

If these two were the ones you usually work with, they would know that your usual protocol is to go get Jungkook as soon as the referee’s lifted his hand up. That way, you can get him out as quickly as possible and you don’t have to worry about him getting mobbed. But you’ve changed your team the day Mr. Xanders asked you to ‘put Jungkook down’, so they have no idea. It’s been a week since then, which shouldn’t make it too suspicious. Hopefully.

When the crowd does move enough to see what’s going on in the cage — three minutes — one of the two men says, voice worried, “Hey, can you see him?”

Your head snaps up and your eyes scan the room. You’re relieved to see that Jungkook’s nowhere in sight.

“Where is he?” you ask urgently, and the men seem to shrink under your glare, exchanging worried glances. You roll your eyes and sigh. This may be your plan, but they’re still acting incompetent. Which is good for you, sure, but the perfectionist in you is annoyed.

“You two should pray he’s in the changing room,” you spit out as you march towards it. It takes some struggle, because the crowd isn’t exactly calming down, but it’s not too long.

Of course, Jungkook isn’t in the changing room. It was a bad idea to go look there anyway — usually you would probably have already informed everyone that he had disappeared — but these two don’t seem to realize that.

“Go search the fighting room,” you order, “make sure you haven’t missed anything. Then check the surroundings. I’ll stay there. Let me know if you find something.”

They practically run out, and you allow yourself to sit down. This isn’t even dangerous yet. If Jungkook’s done that part correctly, he should already be too far for them to find him. As far as you’re concerned, you’ve bought him — you check your watch — seven minutes. But even if you don’t doubt him, you still feel terror at the idea they could catch him. You don’t know what would happen then. You don’t want to think about it.

The seconds tick by. It’s been almost exactly ten minutes when your phone rings.

“Hello, Miss—”

“Do you have him?” you bark.

There’s a silence.

“I want an answer!” you snap.

“No. I’m sorry. We’ve lost him.”

You hang up immediately and start to dial another number to let people know Jungkook’s missing.

But, before you actually call, you let out a brief sigh of relief.

This just might work.

You get home late the following night. When you do, you’re absolutely exhausted. You’ve had a terrible day, unable to sleep a wink, and you got thoroughly chewed out over Jungkook going missing. You think Mr. X was suspicious of you, because you basically don’t fuck up, ever, but then Anna started to wax poetics about how “Jungkook was a soul who wanted to live”, and you don’t think he bought it, but it at least got his mind off of you.

You doubt he’d get you killed over that, it just isn’t worth it and you’re pretty valuable, but it would be much better if he didn’t think about it too much.

You’ve organized the searches, pretty sloppily in your own opinion. Of course, it’s possible that they could find him, but if Jungkoook does his part, everything should be okay.

You remove your shoes with a groan when you walk in. You usually never regret wearing heels, thankful for the centimeters they help you gain, but tonight you definitely do. Keeping them on for two days was not how they had been intended to be used.

Once they’re off your feet, you painfully walk to your kitchen. All you want to do is to make yourself a cup of tea before going to bed, but you stop yourself before grabbing your kettle.

Something feels— off. You’re probably the only person who could notice it, because you’re so obsessive with everything that’s in your home, but you just can’t miss it. It’s not much, just some items that aren’t where they should be, or that were moved a little to the side.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you hesitantly grab a knife from your kitchen drawer. You don’t think that would do anything, if someone was in your apartment right now, because you can’t fight and, considering the people you work for, you’re pretty sure if someone wanted to kill you they would, but it makes you feel better.

You make your way through the living-room slowly, heart hammering in your chest. You check the bathroom, first. No one’s in there, but it’s clear that whoever was there used it as well. He didn’t put your toothpaste back where it belonged.

That only leaves your room. You walk in, carefully, to find it empty. Your bed’s done, though not exactly how you do it, and that confuses you. At least until your eyes find the necklace that’s on your bedside table.

It’s the identifying tag Jungkook wore around his neck for fights. You reach out for it, in disbelief, and that only confirms what you thought.

A laugh bubbles in your throat, and you just can’t hold it in. It escapes your lips, breaking the silence that always reigns in your apartment.

Here. He was here, in the eye of the storm, while everyone was looking for him. You have no idea where he is now, but this makes you feel like he’ll be fine. Clearly, he is a smart man and he has resources.

You fall to the ground, lean against your bed, holding the tag in your hand. You give yourself a second. That’s more than you usually get. It’s a second to close your eyes and feel grateful and happy about what happened, a second to think that perhaps not everything is dark and terrible in the world.

A second, because Jungkook made it out.

And then, you open your eyes, and you come back to your reality, which is that you’ll be working for the family tomorrow, and the day after that, and probably for the rest of your life. There’s no out for you. No hope.

But at least Jungkook should be fine. You’ll never know about it, because if he is, then you’ll never hear about him again.

If you ever do, it will only mean bad news.

Thank you for reading! I hope you’ve enjoyed this first chapter and feel free to let me know if you would like to be tagged for future ones!

#jungkook x reader #bts #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook #jeon jungkook #hybrid jungkook #candywrites

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watchyourbluesturngolden · 3 years

Text

I don’t really know him

ok so I’ve had this idea in my head forever. basically you’re a famous singer and go on the ellen show.

also, here’s the art I imagine for the album cover. Just some simple art I made up!

the podcasts I mention are ones I actually listen to, and here’s the link to those!

conspiracy theories

in our time

warnings: like one swear word?

word count: 2.1k

"It's so good to see you, Y/N!" Ellen smiled warmly at you. "Yes, you too," you beamed, shifting in the white chair. "I've been wanting to be on this show forever, you have no idea."

"Really?" She laughed. You nodded. "It's really an honor." "Well, we love to have you," she smiled again. "So what have you been up to these days?" "I've been pretty busy," you informed her. "I've been working a lot on my music." "Oh? Do we have a third album coming sometime soon?" You smiled, offering a small shrug. "I can neither confirm nor deny." "Well you can't just leave us with that!" You laughed. "I will say there is definitely a third album in the works. I'm saying absolutely nothing about the timeline, though," you said, making the motion of zipping your lips. "Really?" She leaned forward, intrigued. "Could we possibly hear some details of this album?" "I've already said too much," you sat back in your chair, grinning. "Well, if that's all you're going to say..." She looked at you expectantly, as if you would just crack and spill all the details. You just smiled, shaking your head. She sighed dramatically. "I guess we'll move on." "I think that's wise," you nodded. "I did want to talk about your second album." She pulled out a record, the big album cover being shown on the screen behind her as well. "I really enjoyed this, by the way. It's very good." "Thank you," you said, your face heated up at her compliments. "It's good to know people liked it. I really put myself out there for that one." "You did!" She said, looking back down at the artwork. "It was very personal." You bit your lip, nodding. "It was definitely a lot more so than the first one, which was kind of scary, if I'm being honest." "Yeah, well that's understandable," she nodded. "Was there a certain someone these songs were written about? I couldn't help but notice some of these are very much... love songs." You smiled again. "I'm afraid that's another question I can neither confirm nor deny." "Yeah, I had a feeling you'd say that." You nodded, trying to keep the flush off your face. There definitely was a certain someone those songs were about. They were about Harry. Every single one of them was about him, and you knew for a fact the songs on his newest album were about you. No one else knew, though. You two had done a good job keeping your relationship secret. It was annoying at times, but neither of you wanted to deal with the stress of the public trying to know every detail of your relationship. "Now, it's time for a few burning questions," she said, setting the album down in front of her. "Oh, delightful," you sighed playfully. "Oh, quiet, this will be fun." "Will it?" you joked, but leaned forward nonetheless. "Definitely," she picked up a stack of cards. "First- what is your favorite food?" "Ooh, I have to say alfredo. Or... like, fudge." "Fudge?" "Yeah, it's super good." "Good to know," she laughed, looking at the next card. "What is your lockscreen?" You had to bite your tongue to keep the smile off your face. Truthfully, it was a picture of Harry. He had his hair up in a clip, looking like a little tree on top of his head. But obviously, you couldn't say this. Thankfully, you had left your phone in your dressing room, so there was no way anyone would see. "My dog," you lied. This had been true for a long time; at least until you started dating Harry. "Aw, that's cute!" You nodded with a small smile, thinking of how cute your lockscreen really was. "Who is your favorite musician?" "Uh... I don't- like, as a person? Or their music? I could go a lot of directions with this," you chuckled. "Let's just go with... as a person." "Oh boy, there's quite a lot of those," you smiled. "I really admire a lot of people, truly. A few that come to mind, I guess... Megan thee Stallion, obviously-" You were cut off by loud cheering. You grinned out at the audience, laughing at their excitement. "See, they agree," you gestured out in front of you. "I just love her energy. And Lizzo, one hundred percent. I've gotten closer with both of them in the past few years, and I cherish their friendship. They're both wonderful people. Oh, I've met Taylor Swift a few times, and I love her so much, she's so kind." "Wow, you're moving up in the world," she smiled. "I don't know," you blushed again. "Don't be so humble, you're one of the big names now!" "I don't really like to think of it that way," you admitted. "Honestly, I just like making music. I'm so blessed to be able to do what I love." "And we're blessed to be able to hear it," she said with a sincere smile. "What about the other way? Who do you like, for their music specifically?" "Um, I'm into a lot of different stuff, I don't really have a specific artist or genre I like," you lied again. Lately, you had only been listening to Harry's music. "Really?" She seemed surprised. You nodded. "There is one, though, Charlotte Sands. I actually first heard her song, Dress, on TikTok and got really into more of her stuff." This wasn't actually a lie. You liked the song when you first heard it, and even more when you found out who it was about. "Oh, I've heard Dress! It's a very nice song," Ellen nodded. "But next question! What do you do when you can't sleep?" "I usually listen to a podcast." "What podcast do you listen to?" "Conspiracy theories. But not like, in a weird way," you laughed. "And also not to sleep." "Not to sleep?" "No, they're too interesting for that. When I'm trying to sleep, I listen to one by the BBC. I just play it really quietly so it's just background noise." "Interesting," she nodded. "But I'm more interested in the conspiracy theories. Not in a weird way?" She laughed. "No, not in like a crazy way," you clarified with a smile. "Like, I'm not super into them, but I'm kind of like, who knows?" You finished with an exaggerated shrug. Ellen laughed, along with the audience. "Well, it's good to know it's not in a crazy way." You nodded, still smiling. "But speaking of conspiracy theories..." She paused, leaning forward. "Harry Styles." You nodded, waiting for her to continue, and laughed lightly when she didn't. "Yes? What about him?" "Well, just what's your opinion?" You chuckled, raising your eyebrows. "My opinion? I don't really have an opinion, I don't really know him," you lied again. You most definitely did know him. "Well, just on what you've heard. He won a Grammy recently, did you know this?" "I did know this," you nodded. "And I don't know, I've heard he's a lovely person. I do like his music, actually." "Really? I thought you two were close. Judging from these pictures," you looked behind you, eyes going wide when you realized what they were. About a month ago, you and Harry had finally gone out together for the first time. It had been a simple outing; you had gone into a coffee shop to get some drinks. Harry had sat at the table while you ordered, then you walked out before him with both cups. He followed you a few minutes after, meeting up at a corner down the street. You tried to take as many precautions as you could so you wouldn't be spotted together, and you had really thought it worked. You had both been wearing masks, so you didn't think anyone would notice. Since that was so long ago, you thought you had gotten away with it. Apparently not. There was no denying that it was you and Harry, and there was no denying the love in your eyes as you looked at him. He was the same; he looked absolutely infatuated with you. "Um," you shifted in your seat, turning back to face Ellen. She had an excited grin on her face. "I always thought you two would be cute together." "Did you?" You asked, trying desperately not to blush more than you already were. You really didn't know how to react. You had been so careful, or so you thought. How had this picture not been leaked sooner? Ellen must have had this planned for a long time. She nodded. "So, it seems you do know him pretty well. Care to give us any more details? Are you two... official?" "Unfortunately, I think you know what I'm going to say," you managed to smile again. "I can neither-" She spoke over you. "Confirm nor deny, yes, I know," she sighed playfully. "Next question, then!" Once the interview was over, you rushed back to your dressing room. Just as you expected, you had at least 22 texts from Harry. Sighing, you unlocked your phone to read them. "Shit" "I'm so sorry" "I have no idea how they got that" "I know you wanted to keep this secret" "I'm so sorry they found out" "How did they get those?" "Why weren't those released earlier?" "Did Ellen plan this?" "She must have planned this" "I'm so sorry" "You were right, we should have been more careful" "I can say we're just friends if you want" "I can do an interview with Ellen next week" "I can lie" "I'll say whatever you want" "I'm so sorry" "This is my fault" You couldn't help but laugh, imagining how panicked he was while typing these. You weren't even that upset. You knew your relationship would come out sometime. Not wanting to make him suffer any longer, you tapped the call icon. He picked up on the first ring, not even saying hello before he was apologizing. "Baby, I'm so sorry, I feel awful, I know you didn't want anyone to know, but it's ok, I'm going to get an interview soon and I can-" "Harry," you cut him off. "It's ok. Really. I knew this would happen sooner or later, it's ok." "Really? You looked upset earlier." "I was flustered," you laughed. "And a little shocked. But I'm ok now. It's fine, I promise. Besides, now we don't have to hide all the time. We can go out in public if we want to." You could practically hear the smile in his voice when he answered. "Finally, I can take you out on a proper date, just like you deserve." You grinned. "Sounds perfect. I'm actually leaving here soon, do you want to meet at the coffee shop?" "I'd love to." "See you soon, then. Love you!" "I love you too." -----

“Really, though? “I don’t have an opinion, I don’t really know him?” A little rude, if I’m being honest.”

You laughed, swatting at his shoulder playfully across the table. “I didn’t know what to say! I panicked. I wanted to say “Oh yeah, Harry? I’m actually in love with him. He’s my favorite person in the entire world, and we’ve been dating for a year.” But I figured that was a little tactless.”

“Maybe a little,” he smiled, blushing at your compliments. “I can’t blame you, though. You probably handled it better than I would have.”

You laughed. “It was really hard! Every single question. She asked who my music was about. It’s about you! She asked what my lockscreen was. It’s you. She asked who my favorite artists are! Again, you.”

“Oh yeah, very sneaky with that Charlotte Sands song,” he chuckled. “A good hint. Do you think anyone will catch that?”

“Oh, definitely,” you smiled. “Your fans are literally the FBI.”

“Sometimes,” he agreed. “But they can’t be that good, since none of them found out about us.”

“True,” you nodded. “They’re losing their skills.”

“Oh, tragic,” he pouted. “Whatever will we do without being stalked every minute of our lives?”

“Maybe we could, you know, just live like normal people for a day.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

#Harry Styles #harry fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x you fanfiction #harry styles x reader fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles/you #harry styles/reader #harry styles/you fanfiction #harry styles/reader fanfiction #harry styles/famous reader #famous!reader #singer!reader #one direction #one direction fanfiction

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alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

Text

The Pact - Date #3

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 7.7k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: none, BUT THE FLUFF IS COMING DOWN FULL FORCE YA’LL

a/n: don’t forget, I taking your guys’ comments/reactions into account for this series, so please let me know what your thoughts are! of course, at the end we’ll really take a deeper look at all of the dates and what stood out the most, but I would love to hear from you about this one!! love you all, enjoy!

Date #3

series masterlist ∆∆∆ join the taglist

The more time has passed, the more you fully come to realize that if you have been that affected by two dates, you are in no way prepared for the five that remain.

Nope. Not one bit.

It was Thursday when Jungkook finally texted to check that you were free around eleven. Your heart leapt, finally. A date that you wouldn’t have to spend all day moping around waiting for.

So obviously, you were ready by 9. You know, just in case.

You’d been instructed to wear casual clothes, something that you rejoiced in. Donning your sweater with the word Harvard in thick blue letters spanning the front and a pair of skinny jeans, you felt right at home.

The boys never missed a chance to tease you about your Harvard sweatshirt, and for some reason they never believed your lie that you actually went there. Of course, that might be due to the fact that they were very much aware of your current schooling situation and it was most definitely not Harvard.

But hey...attending one of the top universities in South Korea wasn’t bad, either.

Currently you were perched on the end of your bed, partly due to the fact that if you went anywhere else you would most certainly just end up staring out the window at every car that passed by. Not wanting to look like a nosy neighbor, you’d confined yourself to your room to wait out the morning.

In the hours that pass, your thoughts are completely occupied by the two boys you shared the last couple of Saturdays with.

It would be a lie to say that you don’t replay the image of Taehyung standing in your doorway every night as you tried to sleep, his hair a fluffy mess and that cable knit sweater proving to be your doom.

Your thoughts were usually interrupted as you took your bracelet off and stared at it, imagining Hobi delicately placing each individual bead it it’s place. It’s when your hand burns with the memory of his gentle kiss on your palm that you finally set the bracelet down and let out a frustrated sigh.

Yeah...Jimin was wrong when he invited you to just think of these as nice, friendly dates.

He probably knew it, too.

“Ok,” you breathe out, closing your eyes and focusing on the rise and fall of your chest. “Just...enjoy it.”

Enjoy it you shall.

That’s the thing that carries you through the waiting, still just breathing in and out and mentally preparing yourself for all that awaits you today.

You get so carried away in your attempts to calm down that the knock on your front door comes before you realize how much time has passed. Taking one more steadying breath, you get up from your bed and amble down the hallway to the door.

Pausing for a moment, you realize that you truly have no idea who might be on the other side of that door. The thought makes you smile. You’ve always loved a good mystery.

Cracking open the door, you can’t help but smile as the figure before you has their back turned to you. At the sound of your quiet giggle, they turn around, eyes a little wide.

A nervous smile in place, Namjoon leans forward ever so slightly. Almost as though he’s being pulled in by your personal gravity. “Morning,” he says almost as an afterthought, his voice low.

“Good morning,” you respond, throwing the door open the rest of the way. “So you’re lucky number three?”

“Well, you know what they say.”

You busy yourself with grabbing your bag and double checking that you have everything. “What do they say?”

Namjoon shrugs, his nervous smile growing until it’s bordering on giddiness. “Third time’s a charm.”

Indeed.

Once you’ve ascertained that you have everything you’ll need (you made sure to replenish your mint stash earlier this week), you’re stepping out into the slightly brisk air and locking the door behind you.

The sound of keys jingling near your ear has you turning to face Namjoon, who wears an oversized, dark plaid shirt that’s open to reveal his black t-shirt beneath it. The picture of casual coolness, paired with his dark wash jeans and sneakers, the look is complete with the way his dimples poke out as he holds up the keys to your eye level.

“Guess who’s driving?” He teases in a sing-song voice, making you laugh as you swipe the keys from him. As the two of you descend the stairs toward the car, you tilt your head to the side.

“How did you get here?” Then, turning to him with wide eyes, “You didn’t drive yourself, right?”

He’s quick to shake his head, pointing out a car that’s turning around at the end of your street and slowly making its way back toward you two. “The guys dropped me off.”

The thought of Namjoon in a car with some of the boys and the rest trailing after them in a separate vehicle is endearing, while also hilarious. “All of them?”

“Yep,” he confirms. “Every last one of them.”

As the car draws nearer, you see the windows roll down and someone with familiar black, fluffy hair sticks their head out. Like a dog pile, another head hovers beside them.

Taehyung and Jimin.

Oh, and there’s Jungkook somehow managing to wiggle in between them.

“We apologize in advance, jagiya,” Jimin croons loudly with a teasing smirk. “At least try to enjoy yourself.”

You snort, clicking the button to unlock the car and laughing even harder when Hobi jumps at the sound of the horn. He sits in the passenger seat beside Jin, who drives. The two merely wave before mumbling something to each other that makes them laugh.

“Where’s Yoongi?” You ask, frowning as you do a head count and not finding him anywhere. In response, a pale hand coming from what must be the very back row of the car worms its way forward to the open window. You swear you can almost hear his disgruntled greeting, but it’s drowned out as Taehyung excitedly speaks up.

“Good luck trying to beat me, hyung,” he teases, shooting Namjoon a sweet smile that’s at odds with his teasing comment.

Namjoon just shrugs, utterly unphased as he follows you around the car and opens the drivers side with smooth precision. “Shouldn’t be too hard.”

This encourages a round of ooh-ing that only serves to make you laugh even as you tuck away the momentary competitive side of Namjoon. Calm, calculated, and - if you’re reading that steely look in his eyes correctly - utterly in the zone.

Oh, you’re definitely enjoying this way more than you should.

“Drive safe!” The boys shout out amidst jeering comments directed toward Namjoon and his lack of driving abilities. With a final wave, they’re speeding off down the street. Once they’ve disappeared from sight, you notice the way Namjoon’s shoulders relax. He hurries over to the passenger side, hopping in and buckling up before fiddling with his phone.

“So...where to?” You ask, buckled up and ready to go. You tap the steering wheel excitedly, already feeling hyped up from the short interaction with everyone.

You miss seeing them all together. There’s a reason why you’re friends with the entire group.

“I put the address into the car,” Namjoon explains. “It should give you directions as we go.”

Arching a brow at him, you don’t shift into drive just yet. “So I’m driving us there, but I don’t get to know what the end location is?”

Smiling softly, Namjoon nods. “Exactly. You’re so smart, have I ever told you that?”

Scowling, you press the green button that appears on the screen and a warm female voice instructs you to drive to the stop sign and turn left.

You hum, pondering the slightly sarcastic question. “I’m not sure. But that’s definitely a sign that you should tell me more often.”

“I’ll make note of that.”

With a glance at the screen, you see the estimated driving time. “We’re leaving Seoul?”

From your peripheral, you notice Namjoon’s worried expression. “Is that alright? We can find something to do around here, it’s just-”

“No,” you rush to reassure him. “I was just surprised, that’s all.” It won’t be a particularly long drive, just over an hour, but you certainly weren’t expecting that.

Something tells you that there are plenty more surprises waiting for you today.

It doesn’t take long before the two of you slip into an easy conversation, Namjoon relating his latest experiences in his efforts to add something eye-catching to his studio.

“Like what?” You ask. “I love your studio the way it is.”

Namjoon looks over at you, smiling softly. “Really? I don’t know...I just feel like something’s missing.”

“Well, we’ll keep an eye out for something today,” you promise, relaxing now that you’re on the freeway and in the flow of traffic. “Like, do you want something to hang up? Or something to go on your desk?”

He shrugs, taking a moment to roll his window down and close his eyes as it runs through his hair. “I already have a bunch of stuff on the wall, and if I put anything on my desk-”

“Right, you’ll spill on it.”

“Exactly.” You keep your eyes on the road, entirely missing the fond look he gives you.

“So basically, you don’t need anything.”

He huffs a sigh, rolling the window back up and sinking down into the seat. “No, I do, I just don’t know what.”

“Mmm.”

“Hey,” Namjoon cuts, giving you a dramatic glare. “Don’t mock me.”

Feigning innocence, you peek over at him. “I’m not!”

“Yah, just drive.”

“I am!”

Despite the bickering, you can’t fight the smile edging its way onto your features. A glance over at Namjoon shows that he’s having the same issue, his face turned away from you but failing to hide the silly grin he’s attempting to hide as his fingers curl at his lips. It’s a habit he’s had for as long as you’ve known him, one that often makes its way into many photos.

“Prepare to take exit 14,” the voice instructs, and you make your way over to the far lane, eyeing the looming sign that will announce what exit it’s for. Once the sign comes into view, you give Namjoon a puzzled look.

“We’re going to Anyang?”

It’s not that you have anything against the city, it’s just that...well, what is there in Anyang that isn’t in Seoul?

“See? Super intelligent.” It’s the only response you get from Namjoon, but it has you rolling your eyes in an effort to counter the butterflies that erupt in your stomach at the way he’s looking at you.

In a couple of minutes you’re turning onto a relatively quiet street, only a few random people mulling about, enjoying their weekend. Namjoon points out an entrance to a parking lot that you would have completely missed due to its hidden nature. Once you’re parked and dwarfed between the buildings surrounding the little lot, you jump out of the car and make a show of stretching your legs.

Namjoon mimics you, a loud yet satisfying yawn coming from him. “Hey, are you hungry now or are you good to wait a little while?”

You pause, internally wondering. “I think I’m good for a while.”

“Great.” Rubbing his hands together, he comes to stand beside you. “Let’s go, then.”

You fall into step beside him. “Woah, you still haven’t told me where- oh.”

The two of you have rounded a corner and now stand in front of a nondescript building. Its sage green paint is chipping a bit, giving it a rustic feel that is only accentuated by the gold lettering above the door.

Wanderers & Travelers

However, it’s not the homey feel or the tasteful name that has you stopping in your tracks. It’s what you see inside, through the large windows.

Without a single word, you step forward as though in a daze. The little bell above the door chimes as you walk in, announcing your arrival. And, as though the entire thing couldn’t get better, the scent hits you.

The smell of old and new books, some leather bound and some hard backed, dives into your senses and leaves you whirling.

The walls in here are painted some shade of sky blue, complementing the deep wood shelves. It’s quiet in here, the only sound being that of shuffling feet.

If you blink, you’re afraid it might all vanish.

“Oh! You’re here!”

Turning to your left, you see a woman with flecks of white in her hair, smiling warmly at you and Namjoon. If you’re being completely, honest, you’d nearly forgotten that Namjoon was there.

The woman descends the final few steps of the creaky staircase, keeping a friendly distance as she nods at the two of you. “You were right,” she remarks to Namjoon. Then, to you with a teasing smirk, “You look like you’ve never seen a bookstore before.”

You sputter for the right words. “I- yeah, but this-”

“Is no ordinary bookstore,” Namjoon finishes for you, a hand at your elbow. You can’t help but lean into his touch, momentarily forgetting the rows and rows of shelves just a few steps away as Namjoon involuntarily steps a little closer.

“Ah, right. Well, first thing’s first: I’m Choi Min-jee. And this is my bookstore,” she gestures to the endless rows of bookshelves, and you wonder for a moment how all of these can fit in the building. It looks so much smaller from the outside.

Min-jee motions for you to follow her, and she leads the two of you to the nearest bookshelf. “These books range in languages and age, you never know what you might find. This shop has been in my family for five generations now - we’ve collected our fair share of books and other antique items.” With a little wink, she steps back. “Take your time, and let me know if you have any questions. Oh, and the upstairs is open now.”

Namjoon perks up at this, looking over from where he’d pulled a book off the shelf. “Really? We’ll have to look up there!”

“Please do! I’m off to practice piano.” With that, she whisks away, leaving you to your own devices.

You stare after her in awe, mouth slightly ajar. It makes Namjoon chuckle quietly, he must know the feeling.

“I wanna be her when I grow up,” you whisper, earning a louder chuckle from the man.

“Same.” Namjoon heads deeper into the shelves, and you follow after him. He glances back at you over his shoulder. “This is my favorite place.”

“I take it you’re a regular?” You ask, eyes catching on a bright blue book with frayed binding. Pausing, you ease it from its spot. “Hm… ‘The Cottage by the Sea’.” You run my hand over the shiny inlay, a seashell glinting up at you. “Why do I feel like I just entered the world of ‘Little Women’?”

Namjoon snorts, wandering back over to you and gazing down at the book. He grabs the one that occupied the spot next to it on the shelf, the deep red absorbing in all the surrounding light. “You’re definitely Jo.”

“Really?” You ask, gently flipping through the first few pages and trying to find a publish date. “I always thought that I was more of an Amy.”

Namjoon looks appalled, tearing his eyes away from his book. “What? No. In what world are you Amy?”

“Hey! Don’t act like she’s a bad person,” You whine, bringing the book close to your chest. “She was just...trying to survive.”

Huffing loudly and obnoxiously, Namjoon heads over to the other aisle, peeking at you through the gaps in the shelf. “She got everything she ever wanted, without hardly having to ask for it. Are you telling me that you have everything you ever wanted?”

There’s a skylight above you, allowing the lazy afternoon sun to filter in and play with the lighter tones in Namjoon’s hair. He looks at you with his ferociously focused gaze, something that you had never squirmed under before but now find your cheeks burning as he doesn’t look away.

You sigh contentedly. “More or less. Look at me, I’m surrounded by books.”

Namjoon gets closer to the shelves, leaning down to be eye-level with you through the shelves. “So what’s missing?”

“Hmm?” You hum, getting a little lost as music starts up somewhere. You realize with a start that this must be what Min-jee meant by practicing piano, as the soft sound comes from somewhere hidden.

There’s a little smile on Namjoon’s face, just enough for a dimple to appear. “You said more or less. What are you missing still?”

Edging a little closer and nearly closing your eyes at the smell of leather, you’re tempted to reach through the shelf and poke at the little indent in his cheek. “Just your glasses, I think. I love it when you wear your glasses.”

The statement takes him by surprise, Namjoon’s dragon-like gaze dropping and a flush taking over his features before he steps back. “Hmph.” With that, he continues down the aisle, the red book still in his hands and the blue in yours. “I still think you would be Jo, though.”

“Why?”

The two of you match footsteps, languidly walking along the seemingly endless rows. You catch glimpses of him through the books, a soft dimpled smile on his face as he looks down at his feet. It’s enough to make your coy smile grow, and you clutch the book tighter to your chest.

Finally, Namjoon comes to a stop as another book catches his eye. You take the opportunity to round the corner and enter the aisle he stands in, feet carrying you closer to him. Just as you’re about to reach his side, he speaks.

“Jo is...well, for one, she’s a dreamer. And we both know you’ve got a lot of dreams in that head of yours.” He taps your forehead for emphasis, side-smile growing when you scowl. “But she’s a realistic dreamer. You’ve given up a lot for your dreams, but I believe that you’d leave it all behind if someone you loved was in need of you.”

You blink, unprepared for the genuine compliment.

“And,” Namjoon says breathily, sliding the book back into its place and turning on his heel to walk away. “You two share a tendency to be oblivious to others feelings for you.”

He keeps walking, leaving you to become a sputtering mess before launching yourself after him. “I- we what?!” You all but screech, wincing as you sound twice as loud in the empty shop. “I am not oblivious-”

With a triumphant smirk, Namjoon heads down a little slope that leads toward a sitting area. “Be honest with yourself. You wouldn’t have had any idea about the pact or anything if Jungkook hadn’t spilled it.”

“But that’s not my fault!” You defend, glaring defiantly at his back. “You guys had that under lock and key!”

Diving into another row, Namjoon looks contemplative. “Ok, that may be true. But tell me the truth: did you ever once suspect that...I don’t know, there might be something more going on? Even just once?”

You stand out in the main walkway still, frozen by his question. “Er…” Pausing to think, you squint down at the book still in your hands.

Of course there were moments that had your heart pumping a little faster and a blush rising to your cheeks. Movie nights always meant some form of cuddling, but you quickly just assumed that it was all part of the friendship. Good morning texts that made you sink back into your pillows with a lazy smile, or the little facts that one of the boys would remember about you always made you stop and wonder.

But you never actually entertained the idea. It all seemed too…

“Unrealistic,” you mumble aloud. When Namjoon looks at you quizzically, you walk down a few rows until something catches your eye. You delight in the fact that now he’s following you. “I guess I had little moments where I wondered, but it just seemed like wishful thinking.”

Stopping near the end of the row and looking up at the top shelf, you wiggle on your tip-toes trying to grab a book. Your fingers barely graze the spine of the book before a warm presence overshadows you and Namjoon’s fingers ghost over your own before tugging the brown book from its spot. Still pressed against your back, his light breathing makes the hair on the back of your neck tingle as he lowers the book into your waiting hands.

“Moments like this?” He whispers, hands coming to rest just above your hips.

Suddenly, you recall a moment from months before, when you’d been in a similar situation. The boys had invited you over for some breakfast on one of their rare morning’s off. You’d wanted some cereal, only to find the bowls on the very top shelf. Namjoon had come to your rescue, pulling the exact same move before awkwardly pausing and looking as though he’d wanted to say something. He hadn’t, and instead rushed out of the kitchen before you could even utter a ‘thank you’.

Turning around in his grasp, you can see that he wears a similar expression as before. This time, however, he looks determined to say whatever comes to mind.

With a quiet voice you whisper, “Who in their right mind puts bowls on the top shelf?”

Namjoon’s grip on your hips tightens as he throws his head back and laughs, the kind of laugh that sinks right into your bones. All you can do is watch him, feeling like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him. Perhaps it’s the first time you’ve ever allowed yourself to look freely.

“Ah, so you did notice,” he whispers back. “You acted like nothing happened, so I figured I was in the clear.”

With a roll of your eyes, you’re stepping out of his grasp and taking a look down at the new book in your hand. “With you, Mr. Kim, we’re never in the clear.”

He lets out a low hiss, but lets you walk away. Not like you realize he’s not following you anymore, you’re idly wandering around while thumbing through the mystery novel. It looks like it might be an original copy from one of your favorite authors. One that passed away in the 1950’s, but still stands out among the countless authors that have come after them.

You’ve made it down to the small sitting area, where a large fireplace is crackling.

“Huh,” you smile. As if this place couldn’t get any better. Plopping down on the couch, you let out a sigh at how the cushions sink and welcome you into their warm embrace. Setting the blue book off to the side, you open up the brown one and begin to read.

You’ve nearly completed the first chapter - knees tucked to your chest as you lean against the arm of the couch - when you hear footsteps approaching.

Expecting it to be Namjoon, you glance over your shoulder with a smile. It’s Min-jee, who returns the smile with a knowing look. You listen closely and realize that her piano practice must be over. Classical music plays over the speakers in the shop instead.

“Namjoon’s gone upstairs,” she explains, coming to adjust something in the fireplace. “He said something about finding an item for his studio.”

You close the book softly, stretching before sitting up straight. “What’s upstairs? More books?”

“No, we’ve expanded our antique selection, there’s an assortment of desks and chairs up there, among other things.”

Making an ‘o’ with your mouth, you get up. “This place is amazing, by the way.” You hold up the brown book with an excited expression. “I found this - I think it’s an original! How much is it?”

Min-jee makes her way over to you, smiling softly as she recognizes the book. “You’re a fan of this author too, huh? My grandad used to read these to me back before I had to start running the shop.” She offers you a fond look. “Oh, and Namjoon told me to put whatever you like on his tab. So don’t worry about it. Take the book.”

She must notice your shock, because she places a comforting hand on your shoulder and squeezes it gently. “He also told me that you might be hesitant to get anything because of that. But honestly, get it. And ‘The Cottage by the Sea’. That’s one of my favorites, actually.” Min-jee nods at the blue book with its golden seashell.

“Ah, he knows me too well,” you sigh. “This might be silly to ask, but...do you think it’s alright? You know, to just get them?”

Min-jee, to your eternal gratitude, doesn’t laugh at your question. Instead, she sees right through you, to the worry in your heart. The last thing you want is to take advantage of any of the boys. “It would make him happy,” she responds, watching your reaction carefully. You immediately let out a sigh of relief, nodding and picking up the books.

“Alright,” you concede. “I’ll get them, then.”

“Great! I’ll take them up front and hold them for you, if you’d like.”

“That’s perfect.”

While she whisks away your books, you follow after her until you reach the staircase. She nods encouragingly, and you head up.

Clearing the stairs, it doesn’t take long to locate Namjoon. He’s standing in front of a large wardrobe, inspecting every inch of it. The sight makes you smile, enjoying the way he’s chewing on the inside of the cheek.

“Don’t tell me that’s what you’re getting for the studio,” you drawl, making your way toward him. He looks back at you, a wide smile interrupting his cheek chewing.

“I mean...no, but look at it!” He exclaims. “It’s beautiful, isn't it? Honestly, if I moved some things around, I could probably make it fit.”

You reach the wardrobe, marveling at the expert craftsmanship. “It’s gorgeous. But what would you even put in it? It’s not like you take all of your coats to the studio. And you want your trophies to be visible, don’t you?”

This thing must weigh a ton, the wood is thick and the hinges smooth. “Hmm...no, but I can think of something else I could hide away in here.” The way Namjoon glances over at you with a sly grin makes you stumble back, red rushing to your cheeks as you suddenly become preoccupied with a very old typewriter.

“What would that be?” You venture, running your fingers over the keyboard. You’re waiting for his answer, which you’re sure will be a single word - you. However, just as he’s opening his mouth and looking like he’s garnering the courage to say it, the creaky staircase announces someone’s arrival.

At first you think nothing of it, but Min-jee’s voice is loud. Loud enough that you know she’s trying to be heard.

“I told you, we don’t sell anything BTS related in this store.” She says, and you and Namjoon share a puzzled look.

A couple of voices respond, but one in particular stands out as she raises her voice. “I swear, I saw Kim Namjoon walking around in here just a few minutes ago!”

Their footsteps are growing closer, and you suddenly realize that this is Min-jee’s way of warning you two.

Rushing over to Namjoon’s side, you look around frantically. “Is there another way out?” You whisper. Clearly the staircase is blocked at the moment. When he shakes his head, you’re about ready to suggest causing a distraction but he suddenly gasps.

Quickly and quietly, he’s swinging open the wardrobe and nudging you inside, quickly following. You raise your eyebrows, mouth opening to ask him just how this is going to help anything, but he allows the door to swing shut and presses a hand against your mouth.

Back pressed against the back of the wardrobe and Namjoon looming over you, the two of you hardly dare to breathe as you strain to listen to what’s going on outside.

“I’m pretty sure I would know if he was in my shop,” Min-jee is saying, sounding much closer now. “And right now the upstairs is off-limits, so please-”

“Look, I know I must sound crazy, but I’m absolutely positive that I saw him in here. I was just outside and he went up the stairs! And now you expect me to believe what you’re saying?”

You keep your eyes trained on the thin opening where light is streaming in, trying to see what’s going on. Namjoon, however, shuffles a little closer, hand slipping from your mouth and staring down at you. He braces his hands on either side of your head, needing to bend over a little bit due to the small space.

“For the last time,” Min-jee defends, “the upstairs portion of this shop is closed. As you can tell, nobody is up here besides us. If you wish to continue this conversation, I would simply ask that we do it downstairs.”

You bite your lip, looking up at Namjoon and about to whisper something about how Min-jee deserves a raise. The words die on your tongue, however, when you finally catch sight of him.

Namjoon is slouching a bit, and you realize that his hands are on either side of your head. His hair is slightly mussed, from what you’re unsure. However, that’s not what has your breath catching in your throat.

He’s looking down at you in a way that suddenly makes you aware of just how small the wardrobe is, and has you mentally cursing yourself for coming up here in the first place. Namjoon is looking at you, looking at you in a way that you immediately recognize.

Like it’s the first time he’s allowed himself to.

You watch the way his eyes follow the way your throat constricts as you swallow, the way they trace the slope of your nose and the dip above your lip.

The voices fade away as Namjoon’s fingers feather through your hair, light enough to make your heart melt. He does so slowly, eyes reading your own in order to see if he’s somehow crossed a line that he shouldn’t have.

You, however, are sick of all these dumb lines and boundaries that have been set. Somehow, Namjoon must see that, because he’s opening his mouth and whispering out what he’s been thinking this entire time.

“You,” he mumbles as he watches the strand of hair he tucks behind your ear. Almost as though to verify that this is real, that it’s actually happening. “I’d tuck you away in here, and nobody would find us.”

Breathing has become impossible at this point.

“No prying eyes, no invisible lines to make sure I don’t cross,” he’s tracing the line of your jaw now, and you don’t miss the slight tremor in his hand. “Would you like that as much as I would?”

His eyes land on yours, eyebrows coming together as he awaits your answer. You would smile if you could, but you find that you’ve turned to putty at his touch. Instead, you slowly nod before breathing out, “Yes.”

That’s when you realize that Namjoon is just as tired of rules as you are. Namjoon, the dedicated leader that always makes sure everything is in order. Namjoon, who constantly forgets things like his phone and wallet, but never forgets to say please and thank you.

Namjoon, who leans impossibly closer until you’re closing your eyes for fear of going cross-eyed. His breath fans across your nose, acting as your only warning before his lips find yours.

Light as a feather against your mouth, Namjoon kisses you.

As you sigh against his lips, you suddenly understand why kissing was prohibited. Because right now, all that you can think of - every breath, every heartbeat - it’s all saying the same thing.

Namjoon.

Just as your hands find their way to his chest and bunching up the fabric, he’s jumping back with a gasp and stumbling through the door of the wardrobe. You see his wide eyes, but you’re too busy standing there completely frozen and praying that nobody is up here still.

He looks around frantically, but looks at you with utter horror as the same voice as before pipes up from downstairs.

“See! I’m telling you that someone is up there-”

“Oh! Did you see that? I think I just saw him taking the emergency exit!” Min-jee retorts, and you can picture her frantically pointing out the window in an effort to distract the girls. “Hurry! He looked like he was running!”

The bell above the door chimes, excited voices fading as the group exits the shop. However, their timely exit does little to soothe the raging heartbeat pounding against your ribs.

“I- I’m not supposed to do that,” Namjoon reminds himself aloud. “Please, I’m so sorry-”

“They’re gone!” Min-jee calls out, poking her head up as she ascends the stairs. She spots you still standing in the wardrobe. “Oh, so that’s where you were hiding. Anyway, I’ve locked up the front, so we shouldn’t be having any more trouble with that.”

You can only offer her a weak smile, Namjoon still staring at you with that horrible, guilt-ridden expression, which you’re dying to erase.

“Thank you,” you say when Min-jee begins to notice the odd silence. “We’ll be down in a second, I think.”

Namjoon nods along, finally looking away to check the time. “Actually, we’ve got a reservation,” your stomach flips at the thought of sitting through an entire meal with his guilty apologies, “is there a way we can sneak out of here without being seen?”

Min-jee blinks, looking between the two of you but not saying anything. “Ok...um, yeah. The back alleyway should be clear, it’ll lead to the parking lot.”

Finally stepping out of the wardrobe, you look back at it with a glare.

“So much for Narnia,” you mumble, closing the door.

ˆˆˆˆ

Min-jee quickly places your books in a bag - Namjoon ends up getting the red one as well - and offers it to you with a smile. Automatically you reach out for it, but so does Namjoon. The second your hands meet you can’t help but jump, and the bag falls to the floor.

“Oh no,” you whimper out, feeling sorry for the old books. Before you can lean down to get them, Namjoon’s swooping them up and keeping a firm grip on the bag. He mumbles out a soft, “sorry” before following Min-jee toward the back exit.

The two of you thank her profusely for the day, and you promise that you’ll return soon. There’s no way you can leave a place like that alone for very long. Namjoon smiles for a moment, looking pleased that he picked a good place. However, once he catches your eye, he’s back to chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Slyly sneaking down down the alleyway, it’s quiet between the two of you. No matter how hard you pinch yourself, your thoughts keep zoning in on the way Namjoon’s lips felt on yours...the way he looked at you just before he leaned in...how perfect everything had been until he’d come to his senses-

You’ve made it to the car, and you click the unlock button, jumping back as it honks. Man, you’ve got to get out of your head.

Namjoon hurries to set the bag in the backseat before rushing to the driver’s side, opening the door up for you with significantly less flourish than before.

Knowing Namjoon, it’s eating him up alive. And there’s no way you’re about to let a kiss - something to celebrate, in your opinion - ruin the rest of this date.

Especially when it may very well be the only one you get.

“Namjoon,” you say, walking slowly toward him. His eyes jump up to yours, and you can already see that he’s hard at work trying to pretend like everything is fine.

“We’re going to be about an hour early for our reservation,” Namjoon admits, running a hand through his hair and immediately trying to fix it after. “I’m sorry for rushing you out of there, I wasn’t thinking straight. You can go back in, if you want. I’ll wait out here until you’re ready-”

“Namjoon.” He quits his rambling, red cheeks somehow turning redder as you stop before him. “I wanted you to kiss me.”

At this, he lets the door fall shut. “You...did?”

Wanting nothing more than to dispel the awkward tension, you laugh. “Of course I did! I’d be an idiot if I didn’t! So please...it’s nobody’s fault. So what, you broke a stupid rule-”

“And I’ve hurt the guys in the process of breaking that rule,” Namjoon explains, looking at you with clear, pained eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t me regretting kissing you because- w-well, that’s not the point!” Leaning back against the car, you follow suit just as a large stormcloud blocks out the sun. It’s going to rain soon.

“Namjoon, you’ve all found ways to skirt around the rules in some way,” you confess, remember Hobi’s sweet hand kiss and Taehyung’s forehead kiss. “Sure, you actually broke the rule, but nobody is going to hate you for it. Nobody. Least of all me.”

He leans his head back, closing his eyes as he lets out a long breath. “It’s just, we all agreed to give you enough space to make a clear decision if you felt like you wanted to make one at the end of all this,” he confesses, not seeing the way your eyes widen. Oh. “And I’ve completely screwed that up.”

Sighing, you squint as a fat raindrop lands on your nose. “Well, we’re on a date, aren’t we? People sometimes kiss- I mean, honestly, we could have done a lot worse-” Namjoon chokes on his spit at that. “But if you need something to blame, please don’t blame yourself. Because I love this date, and as far as I can tell, the kiss only made it better.”

He peeks one eye open at you. “Really?”

“Really.” You shrug. “And see? I really am Amy! I always get what I want!” You don’t add the fact that that wasn’t quite true with Hoseok or Taehyung. “If anything, blame the wardrobe. Wardrobes are wacky, anyways.”

Namjoon snorts, rolling his eyes. “Blame the wardrobe? Really?”

“Yeah! Sometimes they transport you to Narnia, sometimes they mess with your common sense,” you give him a pointed look, which he avoids. “So if the boys get all upset about it, just tell them it was the wardrobe. I’ll back you up on it.”

Finally, Namjoon laughs. Like, the annoying little hyena laugh that he hates but you secretly love. And when he looks back down at you and opens up the door, he doesn’t look so upset about it.

“Be honest, would you have rather gone to Narnia or been stuck in there with me?”

You feign annoyance. “Ugh, just get in the car.”

From the way your stomachs were rumbling and the rain was pouring, the two of you decided to bag the reservation. It was for some posh outdoor restaurant in Seoul that Namjoon pretended to be excited about.

Which is exactly how you ended up going through the McDonald’s drive thru and bringing it back to your place.

“Aren’t you on a diet or something?” You ask around your fries, eyes not leaving the television screen. The two of you had decided on Gone With the Wind, completely forgetting just how long it was.

Namjoon makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, taking a swig of his drink. “Yeah, something like that. Today’s my cheat day, though.”

“Aw, you decided to spend your cheat day with me?” You tease. Namjoon rolls his eyes, finally deciding that maybe you really are Amy from Little Women. However, he can’t fight the feeling that he’s the Laurie to your Jo.

Not that he’ll be telling you that anytime soon. He’s certainly done enough today.

“More like our date happened to fall on my cheat day,” he bites back. “And I heard that they have really good cheesecake at that restaurant we bailed on.”

You hesitate before taking another bite of your food. “Should we have gone? They probably would’ve given us our food to go if we didn’t want to sit under the umbrellas. I feel bad, you made reservations and everything.”

Namjoon shrugs. “No, this is way better.” He holds up his McFlurry for emphasis. “They even had the cheesecake McFlurry back in season! Coincidence?”

“I think not!”

You both chuckle before falling back into the companionable silence you’d been in before. Over the course of the drive back to Seoul, you’d taken your time, stopping at a handful of little parks along the way. Namjoon had imitated the ducks before realizing how silly he looked, then hiding behind his hands for a solid five minutes before he could look you in the eyes again. Overall, it had been calm and relaxing.

As you watch Scarlett O’Hara flirting it up with different suitors on the screen, you can’t help but wonder if that’s you.

Sure, Gina told you back at the haunted house to just enjoy it. Chances are it was all just a phase, anyways. There was all of this romantic tension between you and the boys that would naturally fade away as their curiosity diminished after their dates.

At least, that’s what you assumed. However you’re quickly coming to realize that you’re a little out of depth here.

“You alright over there?” Namjoon asks, pulling you from your thoughts. “You have your thinking face on.”

You blink. “I have a thinking face?”

“Of course,” Namjoon replies as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You gonna tell me what’s got you so stressed?”

“No,” you say a little too quickly. “I’m just...thinking about the movie.” Not entirely a lie.

You know he won’t push it if you don’t want to talk about it, but you take a little bit of enjoyment in the way his lip pouts out. “Alright, if you say so.”

Only a few more minutes pass before he speaks up again, sounding a little hesitant. “You know that this is a long movie…”

“Oh, should we end it here?” You ask, a little disappointed because you were just getting to one of your favorite parts. “You don’t need to feel like you have to stay-”

“No, not that. I’m gonna finish the movie. It’s just,” he wipes his fingers off on a spare napkin before scooting a little closer to you. “Long movies call for cuddling, don’t you think?”

You nearly choke on your saliva. “You- you, as in Kim Namjoon, want to cuddle? You’re into cuddling?”

He laughs, tugging on your arm until you give in and collapse against his side. You hope that your content sigh isn’t too noticeable when he drapes an arm around your shoulder. “It just depends sometimes. But yes, I am. At the appropriate times.”

“Ah, and long movies-”

“Are the epitome of the appropriate time,” he explains, lightly pinching your arm when you let out a wry laugh.

“Hey!” You cry out, only to be shushed by him.

“Shhh, I’m trying to watch this.”

You just can’t find it in you to be annoyed.

You’re asleep before the film is over, despite the fact that the sun barely went down. Something about having a full stomach and leaning your head on Namjoon’s shoulder just lulled you right to sleep.

You stir a little when Namjoon fidgets, pulling his phone out to call someone. His voice is deep and quiet, trying not to wake you.

“Hey, can you pick me up now?”

Despite your half-asleep state, you crack a smile. It’s quiet, but you can hear a familiar voice on the other side of the phone.

“Yeah, I’m close to there right now. Be there in a couple minutes. You’re at her apartment, right?”

“Thanks. Yeah, she’s conked out on the couch.”

There’s a laugh ringing through the phone. “Cute. Make sure she rests up, she’ll need it for our date next week.”

Namjoon sighs, not quite annoyed but not exactly pleased, either. “Yah, just hurry over.” He pauses for a moment. “Do you think I should wake her up to say goodbye?”

“Your call. But I mean, it’s not like you’re gonna give her a kiss goodbye. If she’s that tired, I’d just let her sleep.”

Your cheeks involuntarily turn red, and you can only imagine the way Namjoon looks right now. It’s his silence that gives him away.

“Hyung...what-”

“Text me when you get here,” Namjoon says, and suddenly the call ends.

Oh, he’s in for it tonight.

Stretching and trying to look like you totally weren’t just eavesdropping, you crack open your eyes to see Namjoon looking down at you with an amused expression.

“I would tell you that you missed the ending, but something tells me you’ve seen it before,” he drawls.

You chuckle breathily, yawning as you stretch your arms over your head. “Yeah, a couple of times.”

“I’m about to head out,” Namjoon begins, back to chewing on the inside of his cheek. “But thank you for going out with me. I seriously...it was just the best.” He smiles softly, and you wish you could have a picture of it.

Instead, you opt for nuzzling back into his side. “Aren’t I supposed to be the one thanking you? It was great, Namjoon-ah. I’ll have to read that book you got some time.”

He hums, returning the sentiment. “Yeah, we’ll do a book swap.” His phone lights up, but before you can see who it’s from, he’s snatching it up and jumping up from the couch. “They’re here.”

It’s tempting to not resort to begging him to stay a little longer - if only for the sake of his warmth which is quickly fading as he retreats to the door. However, you only pad after him, stopping him before he reaches the door.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his chest. “Tell everyone I say hello.”

“I will.” And with a rush of cool air, he’s out the door.

Gone, leaving you to stare blankly and wonder what just happened today.

And worse yet, what’s yet to come.

main masterlist

again, I’d love to hear from you! ESPECIALLY BECAUSE THINGS ARE ESCALATING!! thoughts, what you liked, what you didn’t, what’s been your fav so far...general screaming, it’s all great. THANK YOU!!!

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nat-20s · 3 years

Text

Wonderful! Au Part 7! (also on ao3 here) another episode only installment, and obnoxiously fluffy! Have fun!

~*~

Martin, tired: Hello everybody! Welcome, or welcome back, to a very low energy episode. We have had, as the kids say, A Week Tm.

Jon, equally tired, but fond: Is that as the kids say?

Martin: I don't know, and perhaps worse, I don't really care. I guess I could ask Jeremiah next time he's over, but I'm not sure if that would actually help.

Jon: Shockingly, I don't think two year olds have their finger on the beating pulse of youth culture.

Martin: Hmm, maybe not. Speaking of Jeremiah, he's part of why the format of this episode is gonna be a bit different than our regular. On top of me dealing with a frankly obscene amount of inventory management, and Jon being swamped with grant writing-

Jon: I never want to look at proposal guidelines again-

Martin: we were on babysitting duty for our favourite neighborhood hellion-

Jon: Hey, Jeremiah is a very sweet kid! I know he's a toddler, but we shouldn't be slandering him anyway.

Martin: One, we're not even using his real name, I don't think that counts as slander, and two, exactly, he's a toddler, he's by default a hellion.

Jon, teasing: This coming from the person that actually wants one?

Martin: I..look, if anything, the last few days have shown we should not be permanent parents.

Jon: But?

Martin:...There's no but.

Jon: I don't believe you! Are you lying for my benefit or the audience's? Because someone spent the last five days wearing one of the largest grins I've ever seen, exhausted as it may have been.

Martin: Okay! Fine, I admit, I liked having a kid around. I still think it would be a bad idea to do it full time, but I dunno. I wish we weren't both only children or something. We would make such good uncles.

Jon: Should I should have taken that teaching job after all?

Martin: Perhaps. After all,

Martin, singsong: An English teacher, is really someone!

Jon and Martin, singing together: If only you, had be-come one!

Jon: Honestly, though, I was considerably underqualified. I'm much more suited to my current job, even if it doesn't have quite the same impact on the "shaping of the next generation" or whatnot.

Martin: Wait, you actually care about qualifications now? When did that change?

Jon: This coming from Mister "master's degree in parapsychology"? And it was probably around the time that the world ended from taking on a workload I was ill-suited for.

Jon:...

Jon: Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Martin: Oh, of course. Definitely nothing literally apocalyptic in our pasts, no siree, nothing to see or speculate about or make weirdly involved forums for here. Uh, anyway, long introduction not so short: Both of us have been averaging about 4 hours of sleep, so any sort of actual research was not on the table.

Jon: If any of you are wondering why we didn't just say that we're both very much worn out and thus we'll be taking a week off, it's because we're both deeply, deeply stubborn.

Martin: It's one of our best shared qualities that has never caused any conflict between us, ever.

Jon: In fairness, sheer stubbornness does account for, what, 75% of the reason that either of us are still alive? And it hasn't caused a major conflict between us in a good three years.

Martin: That's true. We've become a deeply boring, relatively conflict free couple. Which fucking rules, by the way. To all the couples out there: I highly recommend being boring. It is so nice. We've gotten to go to the farmer's market so many times.

Jon: You do love the farmer's market. I would say that it's the access to fresh produce, but I think you just like the attention that one yarn seller gives you. Can't believe you would take advantage of a crush to get discounts on wool. How did I marry such an opportunist?

Martin: Ollie does not have a crush on me. They're just friendly to everyone.

Jon: Bullshit. I certainly never get an extra skein or stitch markers or delicate fabric cleaner tossed in my bag. Actually, I think I've been charged more for committing the crime of having married you before they could.

Martin: I'm..70% sure that's not true, but every sentence we speak, we stray further from even pretending to be on topic. So, to everybody listening, this is the itty bitty episode! Basically, we're only doing small wonders and user submissions. If you want details or backstory for things we like, too bad, come back next week. Jon, I believe you're first this week?

Jon: Oh, right. My first small wonder is cat names.

Martin: Delightful, but unsurprising. Though, I would've expected either more or less specificity. Why cat names as opposed to pet's names in general, or, like, military title names?

Jon: Well that's simple enough. I've simply never met a misnamed cat, even if the name itself wasn't to my personal tastes, and I think that speaks to the wonderful universality of cats.

Martin: This, of course, implies that you have met animals that were misnamed.

Jon: Oh, I have. I once met a papillion dog named Meatball.

Martin: Now I know you don't like food names in general for pets, but are you sure that Meatball didn't suit the dogs personality? I've known some "Meatballs" in my lifetime.

Jon, only half-mock offended: Of course it didn't fit, Martin. She was a lady. A nervous, jittery lady, but a lady nonetheless.

Martin, laughing: And what, you've never met a dignified cat with an undignified name, or vice versa? Would you be okay with our cat being named Meatball?

Jon: I would be upset if our cat was named Meatball, because we named her and we're above that sort of thing, but, technically speaking, she could have been Meatball in another lifetime and it wouldn't have been wrong. You see, all cats are a mix of both extremely austere and little baby idiot.

Martin: Oh, is that the scientific terminology?

Jon: It is. Now, while there's probably some amount of, er, normative determinism or confirmation bias or something that results in a cat with a more dignified name seeming to possess more of that austerity, as all cats have both, any name can, potentially, fit. Hence why it's wonderful.

Martin: I..accept your proposal for now, but I think more research needs to be done. Maybe we should visit the shelter this weekend and test your hypothesis.

Jon: Hmm. I think we may need to visit multiple shelters, actually. A large sample size is necessary for any sort of veracity, obviously.

Martin, imitating Jon tone: Obviously.

Jon: Glad you agree. What's your first small wonder?

Martin: Tofu!

Jon: I..didn't realize you liked that much?

Martin: Well, I don't get it very often since I know you can't stand the texture, even though it is not like 'worse scrambled eggs', and you're a horrible food thief-

Jon: Lies and slander. We readily share. If I'm a horrible food thief, you have committed the exact same, if not worse, crime as myself.

Martin: Well, we are thick as thieves.

Jon, groaning: You're thick as something alright

Martin: Rude! My beloved husband-

Jon: -uh huh-

Martin: whom I love and trust with my most tender of hearts-

Jon: -an oddly cannibalistic turn of phrase-

Martin, badly suppressing laughter: Oh, my god. I want a divorce, then I can put tofu in as many dishes as I like. I'll triple my protein intake.

Jon: It'd never go through. I'll burn the papers. No, wait, I'll burn down the legal offices where the papers are kept.

Martin: Hmm. While my experiences with it have been, uh, varied to say the least, I do have to admit that arson is one of the more attractive crimes of passion. I suppose I'll take you back.

Jon, flat: I'm so very grateful.

Jon, genuine: You do have yet to actually tell me why you think tofu is wonderful, love.

Martin: It's just a good food! It's neutral enough that you can toss it in pretty much anything with a sauce, you can bake it, you can fry it, whatever. Plus it's what? two? Three quid? I spent many years of my life living off the cheapest, saltiest approximation of noodles you could imagine, and half a pack of tofu, a little bit of sesame oil, and some green onions went a long way to both making it more filling and less sad.

Martin: Plus, I feel like it often gets decried for being something it's not? It's so often viewed as a meat substitute or the vegan alternative option, and so when people try it, they often go in with a false preconceived notion of what it's going to be like, and then end up disappointed. They're all like, 'ugh, this doesn't taste like turkey!' and yeah, of course it doesn't. It's the oatmeal raisin cookie of the protein world, a perfectly good and tasty treat on its own, but if you want chocolate chip, it's not gonna work.

Jon: Martin you don't even like oatmeal raisin. I'm the only one that ever eats them out of the multipacks.

Martin: Well, yeah, but I don't like oatmeal raisin because of its flavor, not because I think it should be chocolate chip and fails. It illustrates my point. Also, just for balance, is your next small wonder oatmeal raisin cookies?

Jon: No, though, maybe one of these weeks. They are good. But no, um, my next small wonder is being married.

Martin, let out a high bark of a laugh: Being married is a small wonder?!

Jon: Small wonders doesn't mean a lack of importance! Or even significance in our lives. Half the time we even end up spending just as much time chattering on about them as the things we actually research. But, yes, I didn't feel like researching the concept of being married. For one, a lot of the history of it is depressing and patriarchal, and for two, it's not something I really feel any need to elaborate on. Being married. I very much enjoy it. I recommend it for anybody that's found someone that they want to marry, and who wants to marry them. I really recommend being married to Martin Blackwood, I think I would enjoy it significantly less if it was to anybody else, but one: we typically try to make the wonderful things in this show applicable to more than just ourselves, and two: I got there first, so I believe the appropriate thing to say here would be; neener neener and/or everyone else can go suck it, Ollie.

Martin: Well...

Jon: Well, what?

Martin: Saying you got there first is technically not true-

Jon: What?!

Martin, laughing like a bastard: Sorry, sorry! Couldn't resist! Jon, you already know that you're my first real realationship, how would be married before fit that?

Jon: Hence my surprise at the notion! I cannot believe you! I give you my trust, my earnestness, and belief-

Martin [only laughs harder]

Jon: and you throw it in my face for a bit. I take back everything, being married is a nightmare, because sometimes your partner thinks he a fucking comedian and you just have to put up with him because you love him and want to live the rest of your life with him or some such nonsense. Not worth it, if you ask me. My turn to ask for the divorce.

Martin: Babe, hate to break it to you, but both of us are guilty of doing bits that the other doesn't like, it's an integral part of a healthy marriage, and secondly, you knew who I was long before I proposed. You should've said no when you had the chance.

Jon: Hang on, you proposed?

Martin: Yeah? This isn't part of a bit, of course I proposed. I'm even pretty sure you were there. The whole visit back to Scotland trip? I finally made you a sweater and said it was because we would now be immune to the boyfriend curse?

Jon: No, no, I remember all that, but it wasn't the proposal. It was a reaffirmation of the proposal. We had already decided to get married.

Martin: Well, yeah,, I wasn't just gonna spring that on you, we had had conversations beforehand-

Jon: No, I mean, I had already proposed. I asked you to marry me a good three years earlier, and you said yes, which is a proposal by any definition that I know.

Martin: Jon, love, darling, apple of my eye, fire of my soul, I mean this in the nicest way possible, what the everloving fuck are you talking about?

Jon: In the ambulance ride when we, uh, moved here. It was the thing I said to you the second I saw your eyes were open.

[An audible pause is left in the recording.]

Martin: That does not count.

Jon: How does it not count?! I asked you to marry me, you very emphatically said yes, that's the de facto definition of an accepted marriage proposal!

Martin: It doesn't count because you were half-delirious with blood-loss, and I had a traumatic brain injury that the hospital was very surprised I made a full recovery from. No court in the world would consider anything we said then more than pain driven ramblings, let alone, I dunno, contractually binding.

Jon: Well, I knew what I was saying well and clear. Just because it was desperate doesn't mean it wasn't sincere. I didn't realize that you weren't as cognizant when you accepted.

Martin, snorting: Yeah, didn't really need to be cognizant to say yes. I've wanted to marry you since the train ride to Scotland.

Jon: Wait, really? Martin, we hadn't even been on a date.

Martin: And yet we were on the lamb together, which I honestly think is more romantic than sitting in some restaurant somewhere trying to get through icebreakers. Also, back up, from your perspective we've been engaged since 2019? What did you think we were doing in the interim?

Jon: Uhh..

Martin: Yes?

Jon: There are people that have long engagement periods, and it's not exactly like we were in any sort of position to get married for awhile. Especially not that first year.

Martin: Okay? And?

Jon: And..I sort of thought you had changed your mind. For awhile. Was rather surprised that you kept living with me, considering that, on the worst nights, I was convinced you were going to storm off and leave me forever any minute now. Hence why your proposal was rather relieving.

Martin: Oh, Jon, love. That is so very ridiculous, and so very you, and so very close to many of my own fears and doubts. Do you have any idea how terrified I was to float the idea of marriage to you? Half the time I was convinced I was just meant to keep you company until you found someone better. And, Christ, we'd, from your perspective, been engaged the whole damn time. Fuck.

[Jon, after a beat, starts laughing. It has a slightly hysterical edge to it. Martin joins in. It takes a minute for the laughter to subside enough for them to speak again.]

Jon: I'm rapidly realizing that our entire romantic relationship would've been, if not more successful, a hell of a lot faster if we weren't both complete fools.

Martin: You're realizing that now? I think I've known that since the CV incident. I've definitely known it since the Lonely.

Jon, with a slightly tired chuckle:Yes, yes, something probably should've tipped me off earlier. Shockingly, observation of our own personal romantic trends is not always a strong suit of mine.

Jon: Anyway, please tell me you have another small wonder, this has gotten wildly of track.

Martin: Since we're talking about marriage anyway, I think my next small wonder is having a shared reference in your wedding vows. Our friends had "I have been, and always shall be, your friend" in theirs, and I made Jon cry with a slightly altered Lord of the Rings quote in ours.

Jon: First off, we were both openly weeping long before that point, secondly, I defy anybody to have been through half of what we have and then have the love of their life look them in the eyes and tell them "Leave you? I never intend to. I am going with you, if you climb to the moon" without at least tearing up.

Martin: There wasn't a dry eye in the audience, either. Granted, the audience was only 20 people, but that was also literally the only time I've seen Eloise show a strong emotion, so I'm pretty smug about it.

Martin, soft: I still feel exactly the same, you know. If you're climbing to the moon, I'll make sure the rope is strong enough for two.

Jon, soft: I know, love.

Jon: Though, to be fair, the moon is also significantly more pleasant than many places we've been.

Martin: God, I hate how much that's true. Look at this barren, oxygenless rock, at least it's not actively trying to kill us. Practically a honeymoon location.

[Martin sighs]

Martin: I am so tired. Let's do the user submissions then take a very long nap.

Jon: Please.

Martin: So, first submission is from Josie; They find it wonderful getting cards from their friends. They say they're lucky to have so much love in their life and have friends that care enough to send them things. That is wonderful Josie! We have a drawer in our house dedicated to every loving card we've ever received since the move, and they're always such a nice reminder of the people in our lives.

Jon: We should really organize that drawer, but, yes, agree with the sentiment. Even the cards from people that are no longer in our lives are lovely, I think. Those connections are very much meaningful for both of us, whether they're active or not.

Martin: That's very true. Next submission is from Lys, who submits the sound of leaves crunching under your feet in the fall. Ah, that's a classic.

Jon: I just felt myself relax imagining it. I wish it was autumn.

Martin: Don't we all? Alright, for the last submissions, I'm grouping them together as they follow a similar theme. Jadwiga submits the feeling of waking up well into the morning with the sun shining through the window and your cat laying next to you, and Oran submits when a dog falls asleep with its head in your lap.

Jon: I can heartily recommend at least one of those, considering that's how we try to wake up most mornings. The Duchess is a dutiful darling girl who spends every night with us, and she's usually still there when us humans rise.

Martin: I bet you'll agree with the other when I finally convince you to get me a dog for my birthday.

Jon: It hasn't happened yet, so I wouldn't hold your breath.

Martin: But you don't even dislike dogs! You're just as happy to pet them when they pass by as I am.

Jon: Being fine with an animal isn't the same thing as wanting to adopt one for yourself! We don't even know if The Duchess would put up with a dog.

Martin: I bet she would. I bet we could get a big senior dog who's the calmest animal you've ever met with those soft eyes and a little grey on the muzzle and she would cuddle up in an instant. And we did say we should visit a shelter or three this weekend..

Jon: I think you're rather callously taking advantage of my exhausted state, but I suppose we can look.

Martin: Hell fuckin yeah. So, I think that'll close out the episode, and as we always say at the end, uh, go take a nap and get a dog. Not necessarily in that order.

#wonderful! au #jonmartin #tma #jon sims #martin blackwood #my fic #thank you to everyone that submitted!!!#also; i am offically out of ideas for installments #more may come later but i make no promises!

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floralovebot · 3 years

Note

I'd love to read more about what you think about how often they get in trouble! And since you said Riven would get flack for Musa's songs, do you think he'd get flack for having dated Darcy?

FUCK YEAH DUDE

Fair warning, this is a bit long!

So, for the Winx, I said that most to least likely to get in trouble was Musa, Stella - Bloom, Flora, Tecna, and then Aisha. And for the Specialists, I said Riven, Sky, Brandon, Helia, and then Timmy. Again, I do think who's the most hated greatly depends on the planet and culture, so how often they get into trouble also depends on this (for instance, Stella having a more laid back approach to certain things may get her in trouble on Zenith, but not on Solaria).

Musa: The classic problematic. It's not that she's a bad person, she's just in the news a lot. Sometimes it's about another heartbreak song, sometimes it's about a fight she had with Riven in public, sometimes it's about her dry humor and sarcasm being interpreted as mean, and other times it's about some vague tweet she wrote and never deleted. She advocates for a lot of good stuff and definitely uses her platform to try and change things so she's not the worst celebrity out there, but she also tends to speak before she knows everything and that can occasionally be a problem. She fiercely defends the others when they get into trouble and constantly vagues "news sources" (aka drama sites) so people still view her as a little negative by proxy. (Also, some people think her being a fairy of music gave her an unfair advantage in the music industry and that she isn't actually talented.)

Stella - Bloom: I'm putting them on the same level because I think they're both fairly similar in how often they get into drama. As princesses who often get involved in things, their every movement is under scrutiny. Stella handles it a lot better than Bloom due to her media training and being watched since she was young.

Bloom usually tries to stay out of the negative spotlight but that often makes her seem avoidant of important issues. She does speak up about things but it's usually after days of editing and rewriting her words so she gets accused of only talking about something because people wanted her to. She also tends to get nervous answering anything about politics or Domino so that makes people reluctant to listen to her words. Then there's the obvious drama with Sky. While they aren't as public as Rivusa, things get out quickly and when they're in a heated moment they tend to forget about their surroundings. People from Eraklyon tend to hate both of them because Bloom is "too loud and angry and just being rude" and Sky is "forgetting his place and rising to the challenge, not a great sign for a future king". On the flip side, Bloom has saved the magical universe multiple times and continues to do so. Basically, she's one of those celebrities that you either really love or really hate.

Stella is another classic problematic! Again, it's not that she's a bad person, she just gets noticed a lot. People accuse her of being classist and ignorant just because she's royalty. They also hate whenever she spends a lot of money on things like clothing and makeup because it's seen as a wasted expense (since most of her money pre-S3 was coming from her parents). People absolutely see her as a spoiled brat that can't read the room and doesn't deserve to be queen. Stella often tries to prove those ideas wrong in very subtle ways because she knows outright denying them would only further the problem. But just like the others, she spends a lot of time advocating for the good and for the better. She also cares deeply about her friends and it's obvious to everyone, even the people that hate her. So while she is in the news a lot, most people can see through it and support her. But she does still get into trouble for her shopping sprees. Her spending a lot of money on things is largely why people sometimes have trouble being on her side. It's almost always seen as a spoiled princess move and a large factor in why people think she's classist and/or ignorant.

Flora: Flora is interesting because a lot of people initially assume that because she's a very shy and nice girl that she won't get into any drama. So it's a complete surprise when she argues with people online and starts calling people out. She's often fighting for the right thing and she rarely gets her facts wrong, but people hate getting called out and they hate it when someone they think should be quiet and nice goes to town on their ass. Even the people that agree with her often think she's too aggressive in her replies (while others think her tone is fine). Flora also isn't extremely open about her personal life outside of fighting crime with the Winx so that doubles her online persona as being just mean and "too political". People say that she should just stick to watering plants and leave the politics to the actual politicians. She responds by calling them hypocrites since they were just asking for celebrities to use their platforms. She gets called out for thinking she's a celebrity. She responds that she has a large platform and people follow her for her work. It's just a constant cycle and she never runs out of things to say (which isn't bad, but it always gets her into trouble). Tbh, I can also see the exact opposite where Flora just doesn't get involved in anything because she's too busy posting pictures of her plants and random dogs she sees but, I think eventually the need to defend her friends would win out and once she gets a little taste of activism, she wouldn't stand down (yknow how she constantly berates the Winx for wanting to attack the controlled animals? Basically like that. She has very strong moral opinions).

Tecna: I had some trouble with this because I almost wanted to put her last but overall I think her general personality would get her into trouble more than what happens with Aisha. Tecna is often blunt and she doesn't necessarily hide when she doesn't like something. So sometimes reporters will come up to her and ask her a question and she'll just hit them with an "I don't want to talk to you." and then walks away. Tecna doesn't see anything wrong with this because she views being honest to the media as relatively important as they could easily find out if she's lying through spying and technology. Overall, people just see her as a little too honest and she gets into trouble a lot with being open about not wanting to interact with fans a lot or being cautious about press.

Aisha: It's a bit surprising that a princess is the last on the list no? Andros has a very good handle on things like media and press, and while they definitely aren't controlling it by any means, most news sites know not to mess with them. They're very strict on things like personal boundaries and privacy and try to protect anyone who could be affected by the media (celebrities, online personas, royals, athletes, etc). Aisha also has the best media training out of all the Winx and is really good at knowing what to say and what to share. People know just enough about her social life through sns that they aren't constantly asking about it but not enough to try and cancel her for anything. She's almost seen as the goody-goody of the bunch since she just doesn't get into a lot of drama (and when she does it's handled extremely well).

Now the Specialists!

Riven: It's no surprise that he's first I mean cmon. With Musa being the most "problematic" of the Winx, Riven is bound to get his fair share of scrutiny. People absolutely judge him for having a past with Darcy. Although... I really don't think it would be the biggest factor. While he did genuinely like Darcy, she used magic on him multiple times to manipulate his thoughts and then later betrayed him. Riven wouldn't want to put unnecessary hate on all witches, but he'd also be mad enough to eventually allude to what actually happened (he'd never outright say it since it also hurts his pride). Most people accept that he got manipulated by Darcy and assume that the entirety of the relationship was based on that, which Riven doesn't like either, but trying to defend her wouldn't exactly help his case. On the other hand, the relationship he does get hated for is his relationship with Musa. Musa definitely shares the good and cute stories about them too, but her sad/angry heartbreak songs are always the ones that get remembered. People assume he's a lot worse than he actually is and whenever Musa or one of the others tries to defend him, they just assume Riven manipulated them into doing that. However, after S4, people get a lot more understanding of the relationship and there isn't as much hate towards him (he does still get called out for being a bit brutish though).

Sky: I almost put Sky as first, but then I remembered he's royalty and definitely has a PR team. Still, he gets into a lot of drama. The Diaspro/Bloom situation was blown out of proportion and every news site was reporting completely different things. To some, Sky is a dirty cheater that lied to his wife and got some random girlfriend, "who knows how many other girls he's talking to! Someone get his phone records with Stella". To others, Sky and Diaspro were happily engaged before homewrecker Bloom came in. And to others, Sky was just the prince trying to protect his identity and got wrapped into some catfight. No one knows what actually happened with them but a lot of people start to assume Diaspro was in the wrong once it's confirmed Sky is officially dating Bloom. They start actively hating her when she tries to magic her way into a relationship with him. And that's just the relationship stuff! Erakylon's politics are so weak and absolutely crumbling before our eyes. Sky would constantly get asked about specific things to try and break him and it doesn't help that the media sites from the other royal characters are the ones doing it.

Brandon: Is this ranking a bit surprising? Idk? But anyway, Brandon would literally just get hated by proxy. Most of his "drama" includes what's happening with Sky and/or Stella. If one of them is getting into trouble, then people are bringing him into it for absolutely no reason. Brandon knows more about Eraklyon and Solaria's political climates than he will ever need to know. While he doesn't have as much media training as Sky, he does have to follow some rules just so Sky doesn't get into trouble for what he says. That means he can't speak up about as many issues and he certainly can't constantly defend his friends from harsh words. He tries to get away with it by liking comments instead of making his own. It helps a little.

Helia: Helia gets into the same exact trouble that he gets into with the Winx fandom. He's quiet and he shares absolutely nothing about his personal life. He's an artist but he doesn't post about it nor does he talk about it. He avoids talking to the press and when he does its always vague answers that could mean anything. Helia cares a lot about Saladin and Red Fountain's image and we know that what he does affects said image. So he treads very carefully and doesn't involve himself in anything. However, this is largely what gets him into trouble. People hate that he's not open about anything and some even go to the extreme of thinking he's suspicious. While Saladin's legacy largely protects him from this, it doesn't protect him from the media and random people constantly asking about his personal life. Helia also rarely if ever defends the others online (1. as he almost never looks at it and 2. because he doesn't want to get involved). He comforts them and gives advice to their face but no one else sees that so people often call him things like "pretentious, two-faced, avoidant, etc". People are also weirdly suspicious about his relationship with Flora because "it can't be that good right? there's definitely something suspicious about them".

Timmy: Timmy's just a genuinely nice guy that rarely gets into trouble. He chooses his battles (so to speak) very wisely so when he does defend the others online, it's almost always something a majority of people will agree with. Almost all of his social media is about the latest in technology and gaming so he's pretty big in those crowds but most media sites can't really do anything with that. Sometimes people from Zenith see him as weird but they recognize that he's a good match for Tecna so they're okay with him. By the time all of the Specialists are truly in the spotlight, he's already gotten buffer and more confident so those issues from S1 wouldn't be a huge deal either. The others also speak highly of him so no one really doubts that he's a good specialist. For the most part, he just doesn't get into trouble and when he does it's always connected to someone else rather than something he alone said/did.

#hmmm not spell checking akjdghjdagh #Loved this!!!#i loved thinking about this it was amazing #winx club #winx headcanons #ahh... imagine if rainbow recognized that the winx are celebrities outside of giving them random concerts at alfea #like. imagine the drama!!#would love to hear more thoughts about this because i Love this topic rn #best discussion the fandom has had in months

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sineala · 3 years

Text

Captain America: The Great Gold Steal

I wrote this up last week because I did not have access to my usual comics files but I figured I could review something that was just a book. So here is a review of the 1968 Captain America novel Captain America: The Great Gold Steal by Ted White, with an introduction by Stan Lee. I really liked it, actually! It was surprisingly good!

This novel features: Cover art of Captain America holding his shield in one hand and a very large gun in the other! A scene where the villains dramatically unmask Captain America and have absolutely no idea who he is! Captain America being extremely, extremely depressed about being in the future! Captain America dropping acid!

(I'm not kidding about the last part. In this novel there is a lot of LSD use. By Captain America. Talk about something the Comics Code wouldn't ever let you put in a comic book. Thank you, 1968.)

Faithful readers may remember that some time ago I posted reviews of Marvel prose novels from the 1970s. There was a line of prose novels featuring everyone's favorite Marvel superheroes, published by Pocket Books in the late 70s; I have reviews of the Iron Man, Captain America, and Avengers entries in the series; I liked the Iron Man one best, and I also have a Doctor Strange one I have not yet read. They're all short and action-packed paperback reads, of varying quality; the only one by anyone you might have heard of is the Avengers one, which was written by David Michelinie, who was actually writing the Avengers run at the time. That one was, um. An experience.

(Yes, it's "prose novel" because otherwise the assumption is "graphic novel.")

Marvel still publishes prose novels now, of course, also of varying quality; some are new plots and some are straight-up novelizations of comics arcs, which I guess is useful if you want to, say, read Civil War and not look at pictures at the same time. I also have a bunch of those that I could probably review if anyone wants. But, anyway, I personally am particularly intrigued by the older Marvel prose novels, both because the stories are all original and not retellings, and also because I often prefer the characterization found in older comics. And the older prose novels of course use the then-current characterization. So reading a Marvel prose novel from 1979 is like getting to read a brand-new comic from 1979, and that's a whole lot of fun for a nerd like me. Also do you know what's not subject to the Comics Code? Prose novels. So things can happen in these that definitely could not happen in comics of the same era.

This brings me to my current prose novel, which is something else entirely. I mean, okay, not really, it's still a Marvel prose novel. But it's not part of the same line. It's actually a lot older.

Bantam Books actually published Marvel prose novels in the late 60s. Yep, a full decade earlier. They published exactly two, so I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that they were probably not bestsellers. The first one, which I do not own and now sort of want to track down, was an Avengers novel in 1967, The Avengers Battle the Earth-Wrecker. And then in 1968 they published the novel I am currently holding in my hands, Captain America: The Great Gold Steal by Ted White.

(I am still not sure why no one involved in titling this book thought of the word "theft.")

Judging by the back copy, it appears to be about Captain America foiling the villains' dastardly plan to steal gold from the Federal Reserve. Oh boy. Fun.

So this book is from 1968. The modern Marvel universe had kicked off just a few short years ago! Captain America was just getting his own solo book after the end of Tales of Suspense! And here's a novel about him, back when certain elements of his characterization were perhaps a little more flexible than they are today, by which I mean that the cover art -- which the internet informs me was painted by Mitchell Hooks -- is a striking full-body portrait of Captain America, head held high, shield in one hand... and a very large gun in the other. Hell, yeah. Not gonna see that in today's Cap comics, are you? It's amazing and I love it.

(Okay, you might see that in Ults. I'm pretty sure I have seen that in Ults, actually. But this is still cool.)

So the cover art is a definite plus, and apparently it's one of the few reasons anyone has ever heard of this novel. The other reason -- and the reason this is more expensive than the later novels, I assume -- is that Stan Lee's name is slapped on the cover, because he wrote an introduction. (I think I paid about $30 for this. The others were definitely under $20.)

All right. Here we go.

The first page is actually a brief summary of Steve's origin story, but not a version I was familiar with. Steve was born July 9, 1917 (yes, I was surprised too), was orphaned at a young age, and was a student at Columbia University (!) before Rebirth, which in this version is a gradual process that is also extremely body-horror. Steel tubing was inserted into the marrows of his bones. He was fed "high-protein compounds." Then they gave him a chemical that "gave him complete control over every nerve, muscle, and cell in his now-magnificent body." Sweet. Where can I get some of that?

The blurb also confirms his control over his own metabolism as well as his healing factor ("wounds would heal in half the normal time"), which is nice, because sometimes I wonder if canon even remembers the healing factor.

(I don't know why Marvel has this kink for filling people's bones with metal, though. It's not actually empty in there, guys! You need your bone marrow! How else do you want people to make new blood cells?)

The book is dedicated to "Jack Kirby and Stan Lee, without whom there would be no Captain America." Hey, Marvel, Joe Simon would like a word with you. I'm just saying.

The Stan Lee introduction is three paragraphs written in Stan Lee's, um, inimitable, distinctive and extremely florid narrative style -- if you've read any of his work, you know what I mean -- and making the point that Captain America is incredible and you will like him. If you are just discovering him for the first time, you will definitely like him. Okay. Thanks. I guess.

Oddly, the writing style here is substantially different than any of the other Marvel prose novels I've read; it doesn't immediately front-load you with exposition and a cast of colorful superheroes. It opens with a sort of James Bond spy-novel feel, running through a series of unnamed villains and bystanders, and a man who wants nothing more than to talk to Captain America but is killed before he can. Steve comes in halfway through the chapter, and he seems to be written for a reader who doesn't necessarily know who he is, and he isn't introduced as Captain America with his shield flying ahead of him to smite evildoers, or anything like that. He's just a tall, handsome blond guy who is reading a bunch of novels and is unsatisfied by all of them because all he can think of is the past. It's definitely an attitude I would expect from Steve in this era -- he is very much a Man Out Of Time here -- but it's also not how I expected the book to introduce him. You wouldn't even know he was Captain America by the end of the opening chapter, which then ends with a digression about the history of NYC subway tunnels. It's like it wants to appeal to someone who has watched a bunch of Man from UNCLE and just wants to read a cool thriller. Which is not at all what I was expecting.

By the beginning of the second chapter, of course, we discover that Steve is Captain America, as he changes into his uniform. The narration refers to him as Rogers when it's in his POV, if anyone is curious. He apparently keeps the cowl off in the mansion, because the cowl annoys him.

It was not so much that he needed to conceal his identity these days, because for all intents and purposes he had no other identity. Steve Rogers was officially dead, and had been for almost twenty years. Captain America *was* his identity. It was only when he donned the tight-fitting blue uniform with its shield chest-emblem, the red snug-fitting leather boots, and the heavy, yet pressure-sensitive red-leather gauntlets, that he began to feel real -- a complete human being.

Steve? Buddy, are you okay there? You're really not okay, are you, huh?

You see what I mean? They're really hitting the early-canon angst. Hard.

(Also it sounds like his uniform is a few sizes too small.)

We then get an expanded version of the backstory from the beginning excerpt. In this version of canon, Steve actually has an older brother, Alan, who is handsome and athletic and basically amazing, and when they are orphaned they are raised by their aunt and uncle. Steve gets TB twice as a kid, nearly dies from it, and when the stock market crashes, ends up separated from his brother and in an orphanage after his uncle loses everything.

(Honestly if I were writing this book, his brother would be the secret villain. Chekhov's Gun!)

Steve has glasses, gets bullied, is a nerd and an honor student, and studies law at Columbia because he wants to help stop fraudulent business practices and also fight organized crime. Legally, I mean. In a manner relating to law. I guess he's sort of like Daredevil. The lawyer part of Daredevil.

And then he joins Rebirth, and this is the part where I had to put the book down for several minutes, because Erskine's secret chemical, the key to making super-soldiers... is LSD.

Oh my God. You should see my face right now. My expression is, I am sure, indescribable. I'm trying not to wake the dog up laughing.

I just. Holy shit. This book is from 1968 in a way I definitely was not expecting. What the fuck, Marvel?

This project was headed by the brilliant biochemist, Dr. Erskine. His work with the endocrine system, and chemical body control, was well beyond that of his contemporaries. Only he, of all his colleagues, had fathomed the secrets of the Swiss Dr. Hoffman's 1938 discovery -- the mind-controlling LSD-25.

Let's just pause here for a few minutes and contemplate this.

I will point out that Albert Hofmann (yes, the book spelled his name wrong) didn't actually discover that LSD was a hallucinogen until 1943 when he accidentally tried it, but I am positive that 1968 here was a time when Some People were convinced LSD was a wonder drug. I'm still laughing. As far as I can tell, legal manufacturing of it stopped in 1965 so I am pretty sure that the author did not just decide to name a drug that had an ostensible legal therapeutic use, because it wouldn't have still had one by '68.

Anyway, in this version of events, Rebirth is a month-long process that involves a lot of vitamins, physical conditioning and training, and, yes, putting metal in his bones like he's the next Wolverine. They're filling his bones with stainless steel rods to make him stronger. That doesn't seem like a great idea to me, but I am also not sure about dropping acid to gain superpowers. Clearly I am not a genius scientist. Also Erskine knows what DNA is, apparently, because he's just that great. Anyway. Other than the metal, those all seem like relatively normal interventions. So far.

Now Steve has become fairly big and strong (and I guess he still has metal in his bones? this concerns me!) but they need to make him superhuman, so, yes, really, it's time to drop acid. Several pages of this book are devoted to describing Steve's acid trip. His acid trip is amazing and he discovers that he has conscious control of his entire body down to the cellular level. He can control the adrenaline in his bloodstream! He can tighten his muscle fibers! And when he's done tripping he still remembers how to do this, if not exactly on a conscious level, but he can still access the abilities. And that is how you make a super-soldier. It's LSD. Remember, kids, drugs are awesome! Do drugs!

Let's maybe take a few more minutes to think about this.

I just. I have no words. How did anyone at Marvel agree to print this?

I think for the most part superhero origin stories tend not to involve real drugs because people are generally aware that drugs they've heard of won't make you into a superhero. I guess this is what it looks like when you invoke the names of real drugs. They probably wanted something that sounded more realistic but somehow I don't think this was the best way to go. (Radiation, of course, will definitely make you into a superhero but I feel like most people have accepted that as one of the conventions of the genre.)

Anyway, after that Erskine gets killed by Nazis, of course, and Steve goes to war, and for some reason this book contains footnotes by Stan Lee himself listing the comics you can read all of this in. Just like the actual comics do!

We are introduced to Bucky, who for some reason is also from the LES in this version, although not anyone Steve knew before the war, and there is of course a description of Bucky's tragic death and Steve's subsequent icing.

They are really, really stressing the Man Out Of Time thing here:

No other man could have survived so fantastic a voyage through time. And no other man could feel so displaced by time.

He was a man twenty years in his own future. By rights, he should be nearly fifty years old -- nearly twice the age of his fellow Avengers. Yet his mind and his body were not yet thirty.

When the Avengers had brought him back to New York with them and insisted that, as an honored hero of the past, he join them, he felt a sort of melancholy homesickness for his own time and world.

We then get a few paragraphs with the usual being sad that he let Bucky down and got him killed, and also that he misses his family, and that Steve Rogers doesn't exist anymore, and that nobody is alive who remembers him, and that war is hell.

Hey, Steve, maybe the drugs you should do are antidepressants. Just a thought.

Also, this book is 118 pages and we're not out of the origin story flashback until page 34. I think there are some pacing issues here.

Actually, I lied, the flashback keeps going, but now we're up to the Avengers finding him, and I have to say that the list of things Steve finds strange about the future is kind of charming when the future is 1968. Men have long hair! Women have shorter skirts! Everyone is kind of blasé about rocket launches because there have been so many space missions now. (Oh, come on, you haven't even landed on the moon yet, 1968! You're not that blasé.) Color TV! And, excitingly, LPs! You can now listen to 36 minutes of consecutive music. (I actually don't know what previous standard he's describing that is a ten-inch record that holds six minutes a side because I don't think 45s are that big. Yeah, no, I just checked and 45s are seven inches in diameter. Hmm. Oh, never mind. He means 78 rpm, doesn't he? In my defense, the record player my family had when I was a kid didn't play those.)

The description of Steve coming into New York for the first time is definitely written by someone who knows New York, which is fun. There is generally a lot of local flavor to the setting of this book. That’s one of the best parts.

There is a brief summary of Steve's feelings about all the Avengers -- he is most impressed by Thor, which, I mean, fair, he's an actual god -- and Hank telling him all about how he can live in Tony's mansion. With Jarvis. Who Hank says is actually from Flatbush. Apparently Steve spent a lot of time at the NYPL branch at 5th and 42nd trying to catch up on history. And then of course the Avengers ditched him and gave him the Kooky Quartet, and for some reason they're not here right now either so it's just Steve being sad and alone and dealing with this mysterious dead guy. I think probably the book is also done explaining fiat currency now. This is definitely the weirdest Marvel novel I've read.

Anyway, we have now returned to what is ostensibly the actual plot. Steve shows up at the New York Federal Reserve Bank (I guess the theft is happening here and not, like, at Fort Knox) with the gold bullion that the dead guy from the beginning of the book had on him -- I think I got distracted by the LSD bit and forgot to mention that part, but the dead guy was carrying some US government gold -- because the actual plot is that villains are trying to tunnel into the bank vault and steal gold. Steve discovers this after he gets the bank manager to give him a tour. The bank manager tries to refuse, citing security concerns -- Captain America could be anyone under that mask, after all! Steve just smiles and says, "If I removed my mask, would you have any better idea of who I am?" and I guess that's a flawless argument because he gets his tour.

(I'm sorry, all I can think of is that one gif from the JLA cartoon where Lex Luthor bodyswaps with the Flash, announces that now that he's in the Flash's body he's going to discover the Flash's secret identity, then pulls off his own mask, stares at himself in the mirror, and says, "I have no idea who this is.")

Given that the theme of Steve's interior life in this novel is "Steve Rogers died twenty years ago" it seems even more sad that Steve is just walking around basically saying, yeah, well, I'm nobody. And apparently that is being reaffirmed for him by the narrative.

So Steve goes down the tunnels, takes out some of the bad guys, and gets himself knocked out and buried in a collapsing tunnel. Don't worry, he's gonna be fine.

A lot of this book, by the way, is from the POV of random people, like this bank guard who went with Steve into the tunnels:

He had wondered, briefly, if a man like Captain America ever knew the pinch of too many bills, had ever felt desperate over the arrival of yet another mouth to feed. But, of course, Captain America had no family, and would hardly concern himself with such matters. It didn't occur to Thompson to wonder if this in itself might not be something for which to pity Captain America.

Rude. I mean, come on, do we really need random characters telling us Steve is a sad sack whom nobody loves? Steve's already got that covered! (Also, how does this guy know Captain America has no family?)

Anyway, thanks to the power of LSD, Steve is going into a trance, amping up his metabolism (he loses "several pounds" in a few minutes), and making himself super-strong so he can dig himself out. Hooray. This is definitely how human bodies work. Also LSD. This is definitely how LSD works. Yes.

Steve then finds out that a couple of the guards who were with him in the tunnels died down there and he goes home and eats dinner while stewing in miserable guilt because he was responsible for their deaths. He's really not okay. I'm not sure the book actually understands how not okay they have made him. Then someone from SHIELD is on the phone for him and he is briefly cheered up by the thought that it might be Sharon although I think we should also note that the narrative makes it clear that at this point in canon Steve still doesn't know her name. Remember when that was a thing?

Alas, it is not Sharon; it's just a random SHIELD agent who happens to have information about the plot and asks to meet. Then, as Steve leaves to go to the meeting, we get two pages of exhaustive description about the mansion layout and how it's built relative to the surrounding buildings. It feels like this book was written by a frustrated city planner. But anyway, the meeting is a setup and the villains capture Steve.

They knock Steve out, drug him, take him to their hideout, and tie him to a chair. Except, once again thanks to the power of LSD, the tranquilizer they're using wears off way sooner than they expected and so Steve feigns unconsciousness and listens to them discuss their evil plans.

And then the villains unmask him and I swear it's exactly like that JLA gif:

Rogers heard footsteps scuffing across a thick carpet, and then Sparrow's voice again, almost directly over him. His ears still buzzed, but he fought to catch the elusive familiarity of the man's tone. He wished he dared open his eyes.

"This is a moment which I, personally, have long awaited," Sparrow said, his voice rising in triumph. "*The unmasking of Captain America!*"

Then, his nails scraping along Rogers' face, Sparrow dug his fingers under his cowl, and ripped it back. Rogers felt air strike his exposed cheeks and forehead. Then fingers clutched his blond hair and pulled his head back. "Behold!" Sparrow said.

Raven was first to speak. "Well, I dunno about you, Sparrow, but it rings no bells with me. I never seen him before."

Starling agreed. "His face means nothing to me."

"He could be anybody," said Robin. "What good does this do?"

Sparrow let Rogers' head fall back to his chest, and his voice when he spoke was defeated. "I don't know. Nothing, I guess. I always wondered. I felt, if these guys -- these costumed heroes -- wore masks, it must mean something."

"Captain America was missing for twenty years," Starling said. "That could mean the first one died, and this one took his place. He looks awfully young."

"Perhaps. It doesn't really matter. Let's get going."

(Yes, the villains all have bird-themed codenames. I have no idea why.)

This scene just makes my day. I love dramatic unmaskings. I bet they'd have been a lot happier unmasking Iron Man.

The villains then leave Steve and go to a power plant, where we switch POVs to one of the plant employees and get two entirely unnecessary paragraphs about his racist and anti-Semitic thoughts about his coworkers before the villains murder him. Great. Thanks.

Anyway, the villains cause a blackout, while meanwhile they've left Steve alone with the girl villain, and Steve is busy trying to persuade her that crime doesn't pay. He's moved from the "do you know what they'll do to you in prison?" theme onto "how exactly are you going to spend a billion dollars in gold bullion when it's illegal for civilians to possess? who are you going to do business with?" and then points out that gold is heavy and hard to transport, which is when she gets out a a knife.

The bad guys are off to steal the gold, and Steve has now successfully turned the girl they left him with, because she frees him. Of course, the first thing he does is put the cowl back on.

"Why do you wear that?" she asked.

"The mask?" He smiled. "It gives people something external to concentrate upon."

"But..."

"Without it, I'm just another ordinary-looking man. With it, I become a symbol. For some people it creates awe; for others, fear. Look at me. I'm different now, aren't I? With the mask on."

"Yes," she nodded. "You look -- bigger, somehow. Stronger. Fierce, implacable. You look a little scary."

"Exactly. You no longer see me as a person, but as a thing -- an Avenger. It can be a potent psychological weapon."

"They were so disappointed, when they took your mask off. As though underneath they'd find a famous person."

"Maybe that goes on TV -- handsome playboys, and all that. But I've been anonymous all my life. Even my real name would be meaningless to you, to them. No, the mask is part of the uniform, a psychological device. That's the whole story.

Now: let's get out of here. You have a good deal more to tell me yet, and we can't waste more time."

Bwahaha. In a few years, Steve's going to be pretty surprised about who superheroes are, I think.

STEVE, now: Superheroes definitely aren't secretly handsome playboys! That would be silly! STEVE, after Molecule Man: fuck fuck fuck FUCK FUCK I'm such an idiot

I'm definitely looking forward to that.

Also, not that the issue of Steve's psyche actually recurs after this, but he's once again having the narrative vindicate his belief that Steve Rogers is dead and whoever he is under the cowl doesn't matter. Steve, I don't think this is very healthy.

Steve then tracks down the villains stealing the gold, has some geopolitical thoughts about where the gold could be going (he thinks either South Africa or Russia for the best laundering potential) and then hides himself in the villains' trunk while they drive to Staten Island, which is where they're taking the gold out of the country from.

During the final confrontation, Steve finally gets to see the villains, and he discovers that the one in charge is in fact the director of the Federal Reserve Bank who Steve met at the beginning of this book. Gasp. But that's not all! He's also... the Red Skull!

Honestly, I was kind of surprised; I didn't think this was the kind of book where we'd get any known comic villains, but I guess it's always gotta be the Red Skull. I think he's the only one of Steve's big villains who likes to disguise himself; Zemo has obvious disguise issues and I imagine it's also hard to cover up Zola's Teletubby-esque television body.

Steve shoots one of the villains, because I guess that's what he does in this era of canon.

So the plot wraps up in, like, two pages, because for some reason all these early Marvel novels wrap up very fast. Red Skull, of course, attempts to escape and then disappears and his body is never found. The end.

Well.

That was definitely a book. That I read. Believe it or not, I actually think it was the best of these early Marvel prose novels that I've read so far, even if it was also the absolute weirdest; I thought the thriller-style plot was entertaining, I liked Steve and his Extremely Sad characterization, I obviously enjoy all the identity themes, I liked how very detailed the New York setting was, and I do like how they tried to treat it all seriously. I mean, sure, this did lead to LSD in the super-soldier serum in presumably the name of realism, but I felt like the book was trying to present superheroes in a way that didn't feel silly and also didn't really take for granted that the reader would automatically accept superheroes.

It felt like a book that was written hoping that people who weren't superhero fans would read it, if that makes any sense. And I thought that was interesting, because most modern superhero work that I can think of assumes they've got complete audience buy-in and everyone is willing to suspend their disbelief and we all know the genre conventions and are expecting people running around in brightly-colored spandex. Whereas this is more like a James Bond novel if for some reason James Bond were called upon to defend his decision to wear brightly-colored spandex instead of bespoke suits. But I assume no one read it, because Bantam never published a Marvel book after this one.

If you can actually find a copy of this one for a price you're willing to pay. I recommend it. It was delightful and way more solid than I thought it was going to be.

Also, come on, you know you want to read about Captain America's acid trip.

#posts i actually wrote

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unknowconcreteflower-art-blog-me · 4 years

Text

Re-contextualizing Angel Dust: Charlie was not ready for this...

And for the sake of warning Hazbin Hotel is an adult cartoon containing heavy dark subject matter (such as rape and drug abuse, that maybe trigger to views so please tread carefully. Warning out of the way on with the post! I also just wanna get this out there older post my analysis of Val and Angel people kept commenting “what Angel Dust isn’t in love with Valentino” and my rebuttal was “no no that’s a past Angel Dust a younger one who didn’t reach that level of abuse just yet” while their argument was “no it’s the current Angel Dust” which can’t be the case. To prove my point I would like to refer back to the comics and the music video and looking at it with the context of the show. And please read my previous post if you want more explanation on Addict.

I just want to start off with explaining his relations to Cherri, needless to say Cherri is someone who Angel sees as a true friend and confines in her. And she is there for him as he is for her even willing to fight for her knowing well that he will get in trouble for it. Though one has to wonder why is there such this deep love and care for each other. Looking back to Addict, where we have Cherri singing her “Yeah you fell in love and you fell deeper in this pit...” and several times we have an unknown character pop up during her part of the song. With the little snip bits of info we get from the sequence we can tell that Cherri is in the line of work because of someone who’s over her head. And what they have over is an emotional hold over her if we want to lean in on what the lyrics it might in a romantic sense be we still don’t know who it is tho. So what makes this so important to Angel Dust.

This is because she herself is in the similar situation as Angel as in the both of us are trapped in the holes we dug ourselves into. Giving Angel someone who can understand the stuff he’s going through. Cherri knows why he’s acting out because he’s just trying to hide how hurt he really is cause” hey so does she”. And knows she doesn’t have to say anything but just be there; and takes him out on a night out with her when he’s down. That’s why Cherri is so important to him she’s someone he know that’s not going to look down on him or patronize him on his actions. And his number 1# go to person; which is why he probably reveal to her that he wants to get clean because hey that’s what binds them together... This connects why he broke streak and his stopped his sobriety.

During the opening scene of the show we have Valentino texting Angel to do work right after the extermination. Which I also have to point out that Val showing a lack of care for Angel safety after the extermination. He clearly wants his money and is making Angel put himself out there for work. And what does he do after he’s done with the job; he falls back on drugs. Now this is important to note... remember during the News broadcast Charlie confirmed that Angel was clean for 2 weeks before all of this happened! He was doing so well what could have possibly made him break his streak-Valentino.

People were theorizing Val gave drugs to his employees meaning Val isn’t only his pimp but supplier as well! Giving the reason why Angel stayed with Val for so long; when I did my analysis of the music video Addict I said Val maybe the first one to find Angel when he first came to hell. Manipulating Angel in a weakened state to view him as a sort of savior and made him forget his sorrows and how did this happen you may ask... “drugs” using sweet words to mask his hidden agenda. So Val basically trained hims like a dog on a leash in a sense of “you’ll get a love & affection with a treat” which translates to “if you do this job for me I’ll give you all the love you were denied when you were alive as along with the drugs you’ve been craving”. I will argue that Val made Angel even more dependent on drugs; because he made it his number one coping method he’s the enabler. After Angel was assaulted and raped by Valentino probably made it even worse for him because Val’s his boss, he goes to work he has to see him... triggering him to fall back on to drugs. That’s why Angel needs his drugs and needs to numb himself, so him breaking his streak clean after taking a job from Val wasn’t coincidence back then.

“he’a been behaved, clean and out of trouble for 2 weeks now” until Val got to him...

This makes Val even more dangerous to Angel’s road to recovery than we could have ever imagined. No only that but it makes it difficult to tell someone about it as well Angel is afraid of him and has to stay in contact with him since he’s his employer. This would be good time to bring up my rebuttal for my case of Addict: I get. I identified that the Angel Dust in the beginning of the music video is a younger one that still has some love for before figured out he was using him and he stood up to Val (pre-trauma). And the Angel Dust at the end credits of the music video and the one in the comic is the current Angel Dust and show (post-trauma). When you look at the interactions with Val (via comic vs music video) they are clearly different hence the two different Angel Dusts!

I will be referring to the comics in this section so if you haven’t read them please do.

When Angel is in the limo with Val he’s trying to make it very apparent that he’s upset that he’s not getting any attention from Val. Being very huffy and puffy not even looking at him as Val’ counting his money, forgetting that he’s right there. This is very important because Angel doesn’t hesitate to hide his emotions, this Angel is willing to show discontentment in front of Val being angry and annoyed at him which leads up to why he doesn’t kiss want him and outright rejects him. He shows he’s willing to fight back against Val’s mistreatment and neglect of him, becoming more aware of it. In my earlier post I deduced this scene is where Angel first time he’s disobeyed Val and finally gets the full picture he understands he doesn’t mean anything to Val and he’s using him. He’s no longer willing to put up with his mind games anymore and probably would have left Val that night... which is why he raped him to gain control over Angel.

Music video vs. Comic scene

Now looking at the interactions Angel Dust has with Val are completely different he’s submissive to Valentino when we see his conversation in the limo. Not only that but it shows why Angel Dust went on that drug deal for Val; to show him he can do something else other than being a sex-worker. Angel wants out and this was his way of giving himself another option but Val shuts it down completely! Even before he entires, he’s holding his arm in fear and discomfort, even when he’s trying to plead his case he is terrified. He’s no longer willing to fight back because of what Val did to him. And Val reminds him constantly that he could do it again if he wanted to by reminding him of that night! He does this by grabs Angel face when he tries to explain himself, like he did when he forced Angel to kiss. Val forces him to smiles when he leaves the limo he wants him to never show any form of disagreement or disobedience like the last time because that’s what got him in trouble last. To add more salt in the wound he makes him Angel call him “Mister Valentino” reminding him he’s in control! The man is practical holding a gun over Angel saying “the same thing will happen, if you disobey me again...” AND THAT IS SADISTIC AS HELL! It making me hate Val even more and after he leaves the limo all he can do is let out his anger in silence as when he smokes similar to when we see him smoke at the end credits to Addict this Angel is our current Angel Dust. This is his way of expressing his sorrow in silence why he’s an addict.

So you maybe asking how does Cherri bomb come into play, well I don’t think after the initial incident with Val who does Angel confine to Cherri and destroy a bar together. You see the pattern; Angel has a break down, uses his drugs comes off of the high, he goes to Cherri and in turn go out, and have fun well her kind of destructive fun! And it has been confirmed that he learn all about weapons from Cherri so basically this is the reason why! He wasn’t breaking his clean streak “to do his girl buddy a solid” he went because he wanted to be with the only person who could understand him at that time. And she just happened to be in a fight and he jumped in thinking “oh my home girl’s in trouble I gotta help her out...” and that’s probably did out of instinct to protect Cherri. Charlie and Vaggie cut in... now things start to get a little dicey I’m not trying to attack them but they didn’t handle it this best way. They didn’t know anything, and before know Angels story a lot of people are upset with Angel’s action but now that we have context they’re (Charlie & Vaggie) in the wrong.

These are the points of why Angel cannot confine to Charlie or Vaggie, I will also argue that they pushed Angel further from them. Angel is someone who’s very prideful and isn’t going to tell someone that he’s hurt. Unless they figure it out for themselves or feels safe with them (Cherri). Looking back Vaggie & Charlie made a huge “No-No...” and this scene is incredibly painful to watch. Let’s cut to Vaggie how does she address Angel by scolding him for his actions she goes right to the blame game, which is the last thing she should be doing if they really want to help Angel. They don’t even take the chance to ask him why he did it; unintentionally isolating him from help.

What bother me is that Vaggie is quick to call Angel’s actions are a result of being “selfish” which is not the case now that we have context. And probably why Angel just kept trying to piss off Vaggie because he knows that his actions weren’t out of wanting be “selfish”... and makes it clear that he still wants to go clean. It probably actually really hurt him to when she said that and I’d like to point out that people who struggle with addiction it’s not easy to stay clean and people can relapse. Basically what Vaggie did was shamed Angel for relapsing which is not okay and paints him as a bad guy immediately! To say he ruined the image of the hotel ... it made me furious at Vaggie putting all the blame on Angel. And we know that’s not the case even before the fight was broad casted the demons and sinners in Hell were already laughing at Charlie’s idea and let’s be honest it was reasonable. Because WE DON’T KNOW IF IT’S POSSIBLE YET so putting all the blame on Angel Dust was uncalled if anything it’s just the cherry on top. I’m not trying to attack Charlie but she really doesn’t know what she’s doing she doesn’t know how to send a soul into heaven. Is it irresponsible to broadcast a client before they are proven successful, not only that but it puts a lot of pressure on Angel to prove theory that we’re not sure is true yet.

And let’s be honest did Charlie really believe Vaggie’s word’s wouldn’t but hurtful they didn’t even take the time to ask him why he did it; immediately writing him off when clearly somethings going on now she’s painting the image that they don’t care about him, they just care about the hotel, and that they just wanted to use him as a poster boy! Hmm... now who has used Angel Dust in the past for their own personal agenda... oh yeah VALENTINO! Which is why he goes on saying “I made you look sad and pathetic...” he chooses those words not to just make Vaggie mad but that’s probably what he was really feeling on the inside. Angel really did want to apologize to Charlie but after what Vaggie said to him it probably made him feel like his apology meant nothing and leaves these actions carry on into Addict. This is where naivety is her biggest downfall she rushed into it thinking just keeping Angel clean is gonna redeem him she was so not ready to broad cast the hotel. She makes it sound easy but it so much harder than that!

THIS WAS A 100% CALLED FOR! AND SHE DOESN”T EVEN REALIZE IT!

This is why Angel flips off Charlie and doesn’t want to talk to her, he’s basically doing cause “Why should I tell you about my problems you don’t really care you just care about your hotel...” that’s why this is so important to highlight. They already gave him that impression, that they think little of him and that they aren’t going sympathize with him but scold him. And Charlie should have stopped Vaggie yelling when she had the chance. Vaggie sabotaged her chance to understand Angel Dust and help him. And did she really think her temperamental girlfriend was the one to help sympathize and redeem sinners. If she really wants to help Angel Dust she needs to stop thinking it’s gonna be a cupcake walk, people have reasons why they fall to these bad habits; people have issues, relationships, traumas, that they need to navigate before they can heal. Which makes me believe that Charlie isn’t the one who’s going to get Angel Dust to open up to them about his trauma. Vaggie’s out of the question if not then who...

HUSKER

Yup our favorite flying poker kitty... I’ll do a separate post on that because it deserves it’s own explanation! (Side note I really do love Vaggie we don’t know her story so don’t hate her) Hope you guys enjoy the post~

#hazbin hotel #angel dust #valentino #hazbin hotel charlie #vaggie #Cherri Bomb #huskerdust #husker #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel addict #vivziepop

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libsterslobsters · 3 years

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Whole Lotta Love

Synopsis: For some people, Valentine’s Day is another word for "stress", especially when you don't know what the other person is expecting. Several years into their relationship, Bucky’s pretty sure he has a good understanding of the Reader, until a word from Sam makes him question everything he thinks he knows. The race is on to make their first Valentine’s Day since saying their vows a special one, but as per usual, fate has it's own ideas about what will make the holiday truly memorable

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! Enhanced! Super-soldier Reader

(Reader can see bits and pieces of the future in visions as well as speak every language)

Warnings: Smut, Fluff

Author's note: This fic contains references to earlier stories. For more information, click the series masterlist link. As always, the reader is unnamed so that this can be read as a self-insert, but at this point, I think of her as an OC.

The song referenced is Hearts Don't Break Around Here by Ed Sheeran

Series Masterlist

A The Song Remains The Same Fic

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“So, Valentine’s Day.”

Bucky doesn’t look up from his laptop (or more specifically, the field report he’s typing) at Sam’s words. Despite his concentration, he can tell that his partner is staring at him, boring holes into his back with his gaze.

“Uh-huh.” He’s listening, but so far, he doesn’t care.

“What are you doing for it?” For Valentine’s day? Um…

“Not much.” It’s a Tuesday this year, right? Then probably working, like most other people, he’d imagine.

The room is silent as he types, so Bucky assumes that settles the matter. That is, until Sam mutters a quiet, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“About what?” How many paragraphs does he have to type before he can pass this off as a full report? When he joined the Avengers, he thought the hardest part of his job would be the bad guy of the week, not doing paperwork!

“You’re really not doing anything for Valentine’s Day? Seriously?” He nods absentmindedly and clicks the save icon. He’ll finish this tomorrow. It’s five o’clock. Time to head home. Home to-

“What’s your wife gonna think about that?” He shrugs and cuts the power to the laptop.

“She thinks that the whole holiday is a rip-off. See you Monday?” He turns around for confirmation, only to catch Sam staring at him, mouth hanging wide open. “What?”

“A rip-off?” Is he just going to be stuck repeating himself?

“Yep.” Told him that the first February 14th they spent together.

“And you actually believed her?”

He nods. “She’s not one to lie.”

Sam nods incredulously. “Uh-huh. And are you planning to ever have sex again?”

He’s not going to dignify that with an answer (because really, isn’t it obvious?).

“Fine.” Sam shrugs. “You do you, man. All I’m saying is, if I had a wife who looked like that-” he indicates the lock screen of Bucky’s phone (a picture of her laughing, telling him to put away the damn camera after wrestling the dog for the tie to her favorite robe). “-I’d have my V-day plans set up a month in advance.”

Normally Bucky would take what Sam says with a grain of salt, but he is after all a man out of time, so maybe it’s worth considering that his partner may be right.

“What would you suggest I do?”

“Outside of the bedroom?” He narrows his eyes at the Falcon. “Okay, bad joke.” Sam scratches at the back of his head, thinking. “I don’t know, man. That’s your girl. You know her best, but flowers are always a good place to start.” Good to know that hasn’t changed since the 1940s. Although, last time he brought her flowers, she spent the afternoon sneezing until he eventually convinced her that it was okay, he wouldn’t be offended, she should throw the damn things out. Then again, that was before she was a super soldier.

“Flowers.” He repeats, earning a nod from Sam.

“You can get creative. Do a little research. But I’m just saying, when a woman waits five years for you to reappear, the least she deserves is a few flowers.” On that, they can agree.

He must bid Sam some sort of goodbye and make his way through the Avengers compound, but he’s unaware of anything until he’s in the parking lot, sitting behind the wheel of his car, googling “What to do for your wife on Valentine’s Day.” There’s a web page that boasts twenty different selections. Might as well give it a look.

___________________________________________________________________________________

She’s nearly home when her phone dings with a text from Barnes. “Just got in. Forgot to get milk. Can you swing by on your way, or should I go to the gas station and pick up a gallon?” A frown forms on her face. It’s pretty rare that Bucky forgets things. Must’ve been a hell of a day at work, then. Either that, or his brain has completely turned to mush thanks to typing out field reports. Either way-

“I got it. See you in twenty.” She thinks about tacking on a “love you”, but the light turns green before she can.

The grocery store is packed thanks to so many people getting off work. There’s only three carts left, all with bad wheels. She chooses the least squeaky option and, grabbing an add on her way, heads into the grocery store. Milk, and if she remembers right from this morning, they’re running dangerously low on coffee and tea. Despite caffeine having absolutely no effect on their enhanced bodies, both of them are nightmares to be around in the mornings without their beverages of choice. Force of habit and all.

She’s halfway to the checkout when she sees it. A sign, decorated in garish shades of red, pink, and purple. “All Valentine’s Day chocolates 10% off.” Shit. Yeah, that is coming up. To tell the truth, she’d completely forgot all about that day halfway through February. For most of her life, it only meant giving homemade cards at school when most kids had store-bought. Then, once she reached adulthood, it was a reminder that she was destined to be alone. Who would want someone who’s on the run, and what’s more, sees the future? Once she and Barnes got together, it didn’t change much. That first Valentine’s Day, he mentioned the holiday, and she shut it down immediately. They were both broke (or at least, he had no legitimate way of making money while she was broke), and celebrating a mostly commercial holiday seemed like a waste. Plus, she didn’t want to put a strain on a new relationship. Over the years, the subject never came up again, and she’s content for it to stay a non-starter, thank you very much. In her opinion, you should show your partner you love them every day of the year, not shoe-horn it into one twenty-four hour period. Call her unromantic if you must.

She’s completely immune to the various displays of cheap chocolate in heart-shaped boxes and overly sentimental cards as she approaches the register and starts to unload her items. Milk. Tea. That one specific brand of coffee that he likes because, “It tastes like what we drank in basic training. Terrible, but I kinda got used to it, so now everything else tastes like it’s trying too hard.” whatever that means. He’s right; she’s tasted it, and it’s fucking awful. Still, every morning, he drinks at least three cups while she drains her pot of tea.

“You got a hot date for Valentine’s Day, hun?” The cashier asks her, never breaking her rhythm as she rings up the items.

She chuckles. “As a matter of fact, yes.” The cashier’s eye go wide, and she holds up her left hand. “And every other day.”

“Ooh, nice. How long have you been together?”

“Nine years.” Wait… “Or four years, depending on which of us you ask. He blipped, I stayed.”

The cashier nods. “So are you older than him now?”

Physically? They’re not completely sure, but if you calculate the times he was off the ice with HYDRA and add that to the age he was before the serum, then they’re not far off. But chronologically- “No, he’s still older.” And yes, it will always be funny that Sam responds with “Okay, boomer” whenever Bucky makes an outdated reference (even if he’s off by a good twenty years).

With a little more light chatter, she pays for her items and leaves. Now, for home.

As soon as she opens the front door, she’s greeted by their dog, Sarge, barking excitedly and hopping around like he’s on a trampoline despite missing a leg. Bucky’s not far behind, placing a quick peck on her forehead before taking the bags from her and unloading them in the kitchen. Tonight’s his night to cook, but unless her nose has suddenly decided to give out, he hasn’t started dinner yet. She doesn’t mind taking over tonight, and when he sheepishly apologizes while she begins her preparations, she brushes it off. Although, for the second time in an hour, she’s seen proof of his unusual absentmindedness. Oh well. She’ll ask him about it later.

Despite being relieved from tonight’s chef duties, Bucky stays in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar scrolling through his phone as she cooks. His expression is neutral, which can mean one of two things; a) he’s just killing time and there aren’t any interesting posts or articles vying for his attention, or at the opposite end of the spectrum, b) he’s deep in thought, possibly angry, sad, or even frightened, but he’s gone into Winter Soldier mode and shut down so that she won’t pick up on his mood. Damn the man and his poker face.

Eventually dinner is served and she sends him off toward the fridge in search of two beers while she serves their plates. Just as she’s spooning a generous helping of salad into her bowl, it happens. A vision, but a limited one. All she’s seeing is a phone. Well, that and the hand holding it. She’s not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed that she immediately recognizes the hand as Bucky’s, but that goes by the wayside as she takes in the article he’s reading. “Should you do something for Valentine’s Day even is she says no?” It’s a thread on some anonymous discussion board. The reply that has his attention is in reference to a now divorced individual who “was dumb enough to believe that, on our first V-Day as a married couple, she didn’t want anything.” Oh boy. Not good. This will be their first Valentine’s Day since exchanging vows, and if the fact that he’s read this reply (if not already read, will read soon) means that it’s at least crossed his radar that she might be feeding him bullshit. That’s not the case, but after his research, she knows from experience that no matter how much she tries to convince him otherwise, a small part of his mind will be stuck on, “But what if this is a big deal?” Which means-

“Doll, are you just gonna stand there with the salad tongs in your hand?” That snaps her out of it.

“No. Just a vision.” He frowns as she passes him his plate.

“Anything important happen?” Should she say?

“No.” She’s not sure if the smile or not, so she takes a bite from her roll to cover it. “Random sneak peek.” It’s not a lie. What she saw really isn’t important. Still, if he’s in that mindset, she should probably go on and do something for him just in case. After all, why should it only be the ladies who reap this holiday’s benefits?

___________________________________________________________________________________

Not flowers. That’s the one thing that, after copious amounts of research Bucky is one hundred percent certain about. They may still be a common romantic gift, but since they were also a go-to back when he was courting girls in the 1940s, it’s safe to say they’ve been overdone. Plus, he doesn’t really want to remind her of that time she had such a severe allergic reaction to the flowers he picked her on a walk through the park in Bucharest that her eyes nearly swelled shut and she sneezed herself sick. That doesn’t exactly seem like prime romance.

Chocolates or other candies have the same issues as flowers. Contrived and predictable. A bottle of wine is nice, but neither of them can so much as get mildly tipsy thanks to the super serum. The fourteenth is his day to cook, so he guesses he could do some reading and try to create something a little more special than spaghetti (he thought about going to a nice restaurant for dinner, but there’s a few issues with that, not the least of which is they’re likely to be recognized without their disguises, and he’d rather not look at his wife through sunglasses on Valentine’s day), but that seems a little underwhelming.

As he loads the dishwasher (she fell asleep half-way through the third episode of whichever nonsensical comedy they’re watching this week, so he sneaked back downstairs to clean up the dinner dishes), he thinks back to the dozen separate articles he read on the subject of Valentine’s Day gifts. Jewelry was a common theme, but that’s out. She’ll say thank you to his face, but worry about the cost behind his back. Plus, he has absolutely no idea what she’d like, and there’s no sense in purchasing something only for her to hate it.

Another common one was lingerie. Bucky almost choked on his tongue when he saw some of the examples given with that option. None of it looked comfortable (in fact, he’s still scratching his head about how you even put on one of the pieces that popped up on the web page) and he doesn’t want to give her the impression that she has to dress up for him. Even putting all that aside, he has no idea what size she’d even wear. He likes to think that he knows his wife pretty well, but somehow, in all their years together, it never occurred to him to ask her for her clothing sizes. That, and have you even seen the bra sizing system? Does it make sense to anyone, because to Bucky, it’s all gibberish. 32 B? 36 DD? What the hell? Somehow, when HYDRA was training him to extract information, they failed to go over the translation of a woman’s bra size. He supposes he could ask, but he’s not sure there’s a non-suspicious way to work, “Hey, sweetheart. What size are your breasts?” into casual conversation.

Sam said to get creative, so he tried to think outside the box. What’s something she really needs? A new vacuum cleaner is the first thing to come to mind, but he’s not stupid enough to think that would make a good gift. He knows she’s had her eye on a set of throwing stars, but that doesn’t seem to correlate well with what this holiday is all about. That’ll keep until her birthday.

He’s still wracking his brain for anything at all that might work when he feels a wet nose poking at his hand. Sarge. “Hey, boy. Has your mom gone to bed?” The response is a quiet “woof” and lick to his palm. He scratches the mutt behind the ears, smiling to himself as Sarge’s back leg thumps at the treatment.

“What do you think we should get our girl? Huh?” There’s no reply (of course not, he’s talking to a dog), but he nods, pretending all the same that Sarge has offered up a suggestion. “A bone. Yeah, somehow I don’t think that’s her thing. Try again.” The dog blinks at him lazily. “No, you’re the one who wants new tennis balls. Not Mom. Although you’re right about her liking peanut butter.” At this rate, he might as well get her a bone and some tennis balls, because he’s sure not coming up with any ideas.

She likes music. The thought pops into his head while he’s brushing his teeth. All sorts of music. Over the years, he’s tried to make sense of the songs he’s heard her listen to, but has yet to find a discernible pattern in her listening habits. She doesn’t seem to stick to just one genre or era. More like she picks songs by how they relate to what she’s feeling at the moment. Wait a second-

“A mixtape.” His reflection mouths the words back at him. Despite technology having moved on from the days of burning CDs, she still has a thick stack of the disks stored in a cabinet and plays them on the regular. He’s even seen a few that she made herself, pasting together the songs she likes to make a “Cleaning mix”, “Workout Mix” and “Pissed off Mix”. Bucky’s sure he could figure out how to burn a CD, but it’s not like she’d be able to listen to that everywhere she went. That leaves a playlist. She uses one of those apps to listen to music on her phone, right? Surely he can put something together for her using that.

Quietly, he climbs into bed next to his sleeping wife and pulls her back against his chest, slinging one arm over her waist as usual. He closes his eyes, but his mind is alight with activity. A playlist. Of course. He’ll put some extra effort into whatever he cooks that night, stop by a bakery and pick up some sweet treats for dessert. Hell, maybe they’ll both dress up and act like they’re on a date. Then, once they’re sitting down to their meal, he’ll pull out his phone and hit play. It’s perfect. At least, he hopes it is.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Putting on a lacy bra and panties set underneath her regular work attire seemed like a brilliant idea this morning. Today’s a short day; she’s only got three classes to teach, and Rhodey called last night to tell Bucky that he’s suspending work hours at three pm “Since most people have holiday preparations to make.” Her plan was to be waiting on the sofa in the living room when he arrives home, professional button-down blouse open just enough for him to get a good look at what’s underneath, pencil skirt pushed up enough to reveal the stockings and garters she’s donned for the occasion. It’s fun, with just enough cheesiness to match this whole holiday. And, well, it’s a guarantee that by the end of the night they’ll be in bed together, both rumpled, sweaty, and satisfied. Perfect, right?

Wrong. On her drive to work, her skimpy underwear began to ride up, giving her a wedgie, and there was no way to adjust without running the risk of wrecking. She was so distracted by her discomfort that she missed her exit, and by the time she arrived at the college, she was running so behind that she didn’t get the chance to run to the bathroom and readjust. Her lecture on sentence diagrams was pure torture before the underwire from her bra decided to join in the fun and poke her directly in the ribs, but with that addition, she was especially impatient with her students’ tendency to joke around a little too much in class.

Luckily, she had just enough time to wrap the exposed metal bit in tissues before her next class, which eliminated the pain in her chest, but did nothing to alleviate the discomfort once her stockings began to slide down, having at some point disconnected themselves from the garters. She taught like that for the next two classes, but as soon as they were over, she pealed the whole ensemble off in the teacher’s restroom and changed into her gym clothes. Alright, screw the whole seduction routine. She needs to blow off some steam and fast, or else she’ll be in a bad mood all night.

That’s why, thirty minutes later, she finds herself in the training room of the Avengers compound, working over a punching bag. “Fuck-” Her fist connects, making the bag swing crazily from it’s hook. “-this- whole- day!” It goes sailing, and she feels a little better.

“Ouch!” The voice comes from behind her and she whirls around, gaze resting on-

“Sam.” The man in question holds up his hands in an “I surrender” gesture.

“Don’t shoot! I come in peace.” Rolling her eyes, she holds up her middle finger, receiving a snicker in acknowledgment.

“Just working off a little frustration before I head home.”

“Good.” Sam chuckles. “’cause otherwise, I’d be worried that when Barnes pulls out his dick tonight, you’ll bite it off.” She thinks about telling him that there’s no chance of that, but she might just cut off his if he crosses her. However, that jogs her memory.

“Has he left yet?” Sam nods.

“About an hour ago. Said he had to pick up groceries.” Shit. There goes her plan to shower, throw the damn lingerie back on and proceed as planned.

Bidding Sam a hasty reply, she makes tracks towards her car and, once inside, heads for home. Fine. New plan. She’ll shower once she arrives and then when the evening is drawing to a close, wait for him in bed. Nodding to herself, she puts the car in park and climbs out. Now, to psych herself up enough in the next few hours to put the damn lingerie back on.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Where did he go wrong? It takes all of Bucky’s self control not to spit out the spoonful of sauce he just tasted. This was supposed to be an easy recipe for Chicken Alfredo (or at least, that’s what the website boasted; he should’ve known better than to get his information from the internet and stuck to a good old-fashioned cookbook from the library). Not… whatever the hell this is. Maybe even if the sauce is nauseating, the chicken is okay?

He pulls open the oven door, and immediately smoke billows out, making his eyes water. Okay, chicken’s a little well-done. Who is he kidding? Black. The chicken is burned black. And the pasta… he lifts the pot lid and stirs, only to come to the realization that the pasta is completely stuck to the bottom of the pot. Wonderful.

It’s inevitable; over the years, he’s had his fair share of cooking disasters, but usually he does okay. Tonight though… who the hell up there did he piss off, because the only explanation for how badly this is going is his karma coming due.

Still holding the offending spoon, he looks over at Sarge, who’s staring at him, long pink tongue sticking out as he pants. “Trust me, boy. You don’t want any of this.” There has to be something else he can pull together on short notice. Normally he’d be worried that she’s running late without so much as a text, but today he’s relieved. At least if she’s running behind he’ll have time to… what? Maybe order takeout? Before she gets-

“I’m home.” Shit.

Sarge yips, shaking with excitement, and starts towards the kitchen door, then turns back, uncertain. “Go on. I know you’re dying to jump on her and lick her face.” Something they really should be training out of him because he’s getting too big for that sort of behaviour but, well… there’s a reason they call them “puppy dog eyes.”

Not needing to be coaxed, the dog takes off, tripping a little in the momentary lapse in his memory that he’s a tripod, but easily catches himself and goes on his merry way, leaving Bucky to clean up his mess. From the sound of things, a game of fetch is going on in the living room, so she should be distracted for a while.

He manages to pour the sauce down the drain and scrape most of the pasta into the trash while Sarge is acting as a decoy, but there’s absolutely no way he can dispose of the chicken without tipping her off (damn enhanced senses, it’s a wonder she hasn’t already smelled it). Finally, he decides to just go for it. She’s going to notice whether he throws it out now or two hours from now. Might as well get a head start on cleaning.

Sure enough, not ten seconds after he empties out the oven, he catches a movement in his peripheral vision, and the familiar sound of her breathing tips him off that he’s no longer alone.

“Hey, Doll.”

“Hey, Bucky. Did something burn in here, or-” He holds up the pan for her inspection before continuing his scraping.

“That’s one way to put it, yeah.” He slams the lid back on the trashcan and turns on the tap, intent on rinsing out the pan. “Another is whoever the god of culinary arts is has it in for me today.”

She chuckles. “You know, that would be funnier if we didn’t actually know a god.”

“Yeah, but he’s in control of thunder.” He meets her eyes, smirking slightly. “Although it did look like I electrocuted the bird.” Her lips quirk up into a smile, and he takes the opportunity to kiss her, cupping the back of her head gently to hold her in place when she tries to move away, muttering something about being sweaty.

He’s not entirely sure how it happened, but by the time they come up for air, her back his pressed against the wall and he’s got her pinned in place. Not that he’s complaining.

“Anyone ever tell you that the tip of your nose turns pink after you’ve been kissed?’ Her cheeks go rosey in response.

“I think so. One guy did. I told him it’s only when I’m kissed properly.”

He really would like to continue the playful banter, but there’s still the small matter of whatever it is they’re going to eat.

“What do you feel like for dinner tonight?”

“Apart from electrocuted chicken?” He responds with a swat to her ass, which earns him a snicker. “Let’s keep it simple. Pizza. Your choice of toppings.” Right, that’s easy enough. Plus, if they have to wait longer than thirty minutes, it’s free.

“Okay. I’ll order while you shower?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He’s just pulled up the menu on his phone when the sound of her clearing her throat attracts his attention. She’s standing in the doorway, combing through her freshly let down hair with her fingers, a playful look in her eyes.

“Or you could join me. Just a mild suggestion.”

Dinner can wait for a while.

___________________________________________________________________________________

The Brooklyn townhouse they live in has many nice features. There’s a functional if small screened in back porch, big enough to hold a table for two and a grill. Two bedrooms, on the off chance someone from work needs to crash for a night or two. A kitchen with a dishwasher. A working fireplace. Good closet space. And an en suite bathroom.

Maybe it’s a little ridiculous to call a bathroom luxurious, especially when, in comparison to what’s featured in many brownstones, it’s more than modest, but she can’t help but think of it as such. There’s a double sink so that in the morning rush to get ready, Bucky’s able to shave and brush his teeth without having to wait for her to finish applying her makeup. Shelving above the toilet makes certain that even if the last person to shower took the towel with them, another one is on hand. Speaking of the shower, it’s not the largest one in the world, but both of them can fit in comfortably at the same time, which is what’s lead to their current situation.

She’s just finished allowing the water to course over her body, easing the sweat from her skin, and is about to begin the process of washing her hair, scrubbing her body, but she hesitates. She might as well ask. It’s only practical after all.

“Do you want to start now or get cleaned up and have dinner beforehand?” It’s obvious what she’s referring to, so she doesn’t bother to spell it out.

His brown knits, and if she didn’t know him as… intimately… as she does, she’d actually believe he’s confused.

“Oh, so you’re just assuming there’s gonna be sex involved at some point tonight?”

She shrugs, wringing out her hair.

“Seemed like a safe enough bet.” She glances pointedly between the two of them. “After all, we’re already undressed. “

His laugh is a quiet huff, barely discernible over the sound of the water. “Then I’d say start now, have dinner, then go for round two. Sound about right to you?”

She nods. “Solid plan.”

“Then get over here.”

Unlike the welcome home kiss they shared not half an hour ago, this one is less tender, more electric. Hands twist in hair, bodies press together. Tongues begging for entrance quickly give way to teeth nipping at bottom lips, an unspoken sparring match for who’ll be in control this time around. Ultimately he wins, grasping her hips and lifting as she wraps her legs securely around his back.

There’s no need for prep; the teasing of their earlier words is foreplay enough. Back pressed against the wall, her body easily welcomes him in as she braces one arm against the glass shower doors for balance. Any concerns about slipping and falling wash away as they move together like so many times before. She’s sure her nails will leave marks on his back, fingertips digging in for purchase and it’s a guarantee her hips will be littered with fingerprints from his grip, but she can’t find it in her to care, and if the desperate, bruising kiss assaulting her lips is anything to judge from, neither can he.

“So damn good, Doll.” It’s panted against her neck. “Always. So damn perfect for me.” All she can manage is a moan in response.

She feels him twitch inside of her and knows he’s close. So is she, but she can’t quite get there without-

As if he’s read her mind, he reaches between them to touch her where she needs it most, and on instinct, she readjusts, locking her arm around his neck to stay in place. “Let go, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” She couldn’t disobey if she wanted to.

“Fuck.” As her walls contract around him, he pulls out just in time to paint her middle with his release.

“That’s one word for it.” She’s still fighting to catch her breath, but she shoots him a shaky smirk, which he returns.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mrs. Barnes.” Snickering, she releases him to stand on unsteady legs and pecks his legs.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mr. Barnes.” Maybe there’s something to this holiday after all.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“You want the last slice?” Bucky considers it for a moment before deciding-

“Nah. You can have it.” It may not be exactly what he planned, but it’s been a good night. Between the two of them, they’ve gone through two large pizzas while watching the new version of Beauty and the Beast (she rolled her eyes when he asked if this was her way of saying he reminds her of a certain hairy, horned character) in their pajamas.

“No, really. You take it. I don’t want it.” She nudges the mostly-empty pizza box towards him. The noise makes Sarge lift his head from where he was snoozing beside her on the sofa. That gives him an idea.

“I don’t want it either, but I can think of someone who does.” He cocks his head towards the now-drooling dog. “How ‘bout it, boy? Wanna help us out?”

Snickering, she picks the pepperonis and pieces of sausage and ham from the pizza, forming a pile. “Here, Sarge. Catch.” She tosses a coveted treat in the air, and Sarge’s jaw snaps, swallowing it whole. “Good boy.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she speaks again.

“You know, I actually did have something planned for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” She nods.

“Absolutely. Had a whole seduction plan laid out. Tiny underwear, lacy bra, and stockings with garters included.” Huh. Guess she wouldn’t have taken the “lingerie” option the wrong way. He’ll file that away for future use… along with a mental note to ask her bra size. “That is, until I tried wearing the damn things for longer than an hour. Turns out, hiding a dirty secret under your clothes is more itchy than sexy.”

He can’t help it. He laughs, producing a pout from her which quickly turns into her own quiet laughter.

“Well, that fits in perfectly with my fancy dinner going up in smoke.”

“We really do have shitty luck with the whole “romance” thing.” She’s joking, but he decides to respond anyway.

“I don’t know about that.” Entwining his fingers with hers, he lifts their hands, twin wedding bands catching the light. “You waited five years for me to reappear after the blip, and I convinced you to elope with me. Seems pretty romantic.” Although, that reminds him…

“Don’t move.” Releasing her hand, he stands and goes in search of his phone.

“Bucky, what-”

“Don’t move, Doll. Stay right where you are.” Ah. On the kitchen counter, just where he left it. Jogging back into the room, he resumes his place on the couch next to her. Ignoring her questioning gaze, he pulls up the app and, selecting the correct playlist, hits play.

Immediate recognition blooms on her face at the opening lyrics. “She is the sweetest thing that I know. Should see the way she holds me when the lights go low.” He’s not one for modern music, but when he was googling “songs for Valentine’s Day” and this one popped up, he couldn’t help but think that the lyrics were fitting.

“I didn’t know you’d heard this one.”

He chuckles. “Even old men have a few tricks up their sleeves. That, and a wifi connection.” She rolls her eyes but leans closer, which he takes advantage of to show her the playlist.

“This is the app you use, right?” Receiving a nod, he continues. “Feel free to scroll through and add whatever you want. I haven’t listened to all of them the whole way through, but they seemed to fit the mood.”

Her hand closes over his, covering the phone. “Thank you, Bucky. It’s perfect.”

As the singer goes on about how hearts don’t break around here, he presses his lips against hers.

“I love you, Doll.”

“Love you.”

Not bad for a disastrous Valentine’s Day. Not bad at all.

#marvel #the avengers #bucky fanfic #bucky x original female character #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #captain america #the winter soldier #bucky barnes smut #smut #fluff

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kendrixtermina · 3 years

Text

Appreciating the Range of Type 6, or, one stereotypical example, and three that aren’t.

I want to tell you about some type 6 ppl that I know in my personal life.

Exemplar #1: F. B.

Complete Stats

Wing: 5 p or cp: largely phobic – lots of safety worries, outright authoritarian follower personality Instinct: sp/soc Trifix: 613 - 6w5 1w2 3w2 (“The Taskmaster” or “The Middle Manager”) jungian: ISTJ / SLI-Te oldham: Conscientious & Aggressive Essence Type: Mars Temperament: Pure Choleric

What he’s like:

Not pleasant.

Every “strict conservative middle aged guy” stereotype in the book. Control freak, makes a mountain out of every molehill, sees the world as full of axe murderers, judgemental as fuck, horrible temper and yet completely impersonable, all his opinions are copypasted from right-wing news sites. When they say war is good he’s for war, and when they say war is bad he’ll be like “At least Trump did not start any more wars” without perceiving a contradiction. Despite this, he believes is very hot, principled and funny. He is none of these things. He puts people down nonstop. My knowledge of neurochemistry tells me that he must have emotions somewhere or he couldn’t function, but I ain’t ever seen a single one of those emotions. They’re all for his job and a few trusted mentor figures. And his mom. At least he loved her.

If you say anything he doesn’t like, he “throws the sofa out the window” as his wife once put it.

How he’s a Type 6:

Well, he’s pretty much every negative stereotype in a nutshell… other than distrusting his partner. But that might be cause hes sx blind, or cause the wife is big on monogamy & wouldn’t ever cheat.

The one positive trait of 6 that he has is that he does his research. Before moving anywhere he googles the crime rates and if you need a doctor he might find you the best one. But even that can be overriden by ideology (hydroxychloroquine!). And if you don’t take his exact advice, there goes the sofa out the window again…

And I guess the work ethic from all 3 parts of the trifix really comes through – he hasn’t had a single bad grade in his life and always keeps collecting new certifications, and will make sure you hear about it...

Exemplar #2: I.

Complete Stats

Wing: 5 P or cp: pretty much an even mix of phobic and counterphobic Instinct: sp/soc Trifix: 614 - 6w5 1w2 4w3 (Would prolly call herself “The Big Pain” rather than “The Philosopher” ^^°) jungian: INTJ / ILI-Ni oldham: Serious & Conscientious Essence Type: Saturn Temperament: Chlor-Mel

What she’s like:

I’d describe her as serious, mature, discerning, focused and passionate about her friendships, if perhaps somewhat forceful at times, with a dry, sarcastic sense of humor.

Comes across like someone who knows what she’s talking about, with well-articulated points.

Often the Responsible Sibling, Designated Sanity Checker or Bullshit Detector.

Prefers to plan everything in advance in typical Ni dom fashion, even amusement part trips. Gets somewhat anxious without a future plan or shedule.

Often mistaken for a whole lot more sociable and confident that she really feels inside. (even I kinda bought it and got her whole darn trifix wrong on my first typing attempt, though that was when I was new to typology) She can act the boss act temporarily to get the situation over with, but she actually hates making decisions.

She does however have the occasional cute/pure moment where that lower function block comes out.

How she’s a Type 6:

She has saved our family from many a terrible restaurant by making sure to check the reviews. The preparing for all possible dangers is very 6, the acting tough outwardly when youre inwardly anxious, the intellectual problem solving & some tendency towards organization/responsibility/ “logistic” intelligence.

One online test she took gave her 5w6 instead of 6w5 but that’s probably just the ITxx-ness leaking in. I remember this one time we were discussing this artsy-fartsy theater play to which we’d had fascinatingly different reactions, and at one point I half-jokingly said something like “But does anyone ever really feel connected to others, or is that a myth?” to which she wrote, “[Name], what the fuck? Yes I do.” and then immediately deleted it. That’s more of a 6 reaction innit?

Nonetheless the wing does feature in significantly – for example she got very well informed about a lot of topics because she researched them to assuage a random survival-related fear, like, “How to make sure I have enough retirement money”

Exemplar #3: M.

Complete Stats

Wing: 7 p or cp: largely phobic Instinct: sp/sx Trifix: 692 - 6w7 9w1 2w1 (Fortunately very much a “Good Samaritan” rather than “The Stockholm”) jungian: ISFP / SEI-Fi oldham: Sensitive & Devoted Essence Type: Lunar-Venus Temperament: Pure Supine

What she’s like:

Precious! Sweet, nice, good listener, friendly, gives all the best gifts. But also perceptive and good at understanding people, eg. mediating to the parents when one of the younger sisters is having An Emotion™ or winning the trust of problem children.

Unlike I. Who has some soc that helps her keep track of a larger circle of friends despite her introversion, M. tends to enjoy the closeness with her family and have just a few very close friends. Excellent friend material all around! The sx and Se also come out in enjoying art forms involving the body like theatre or dance.

She can be a bit shy, conflict-avoidant and occasionally a lil bit panicky though.

As a small kid she used to be super duper shy but then a wise english teacher encouraged her to play a big role in a play, and since then she’s a lot more confident and doesn’t let ppl push her around without limit, though she’s still a quiet, helpful person. There you see the difference that a good teacher can make.

How she’s a Type 6:

For one thing she moves and emotes faster than a core 9 would, and she fits the body language – big eyes that move around a lot, stands a bit lopsided, talks in a shrill voice on the rare occasions where we exhaust her patience etc. As a xSFx and a w7 she shows mostly the “warm, friendly, likeable” side of type 6. She also has a very 6-ish tendency to very frequently ask people’s opinions & feedback before making decisions. (the other fixes probably add to this)

Alas, she also has a little bit of of the fear/insecurity.

Also she has a social/care job which might be seen as 6-ish desire to serve the community.

Exemplar #4: J.

Complete Stats

Wing: 7 P or cp: largely counterphobic Instinct: sx/soc ?? definitely not sp first. Trifix: 638 - 6w7 3w4 8w9(?) (Shall she be a “Justice Fighter” or a “Kyle”? Only time will tell.) jungian: ISTP / LSI-Se ?? Oldham: ? some Dramatic & Serious, perhaps ? Essence Type: Definitely Mercury Temperament: San-Mel

What she’s like:

The first adjective that usually comes to my mind is ‘cool’. Sassy, energetic & a little bit tough, but also affectionate when she wants to be. (though in admiring way rather than a mushy one)

She says the coolest things, has a certain sly sort of cleverness, and an astonishly good poker face. Bit of an occasional prankster. Hilarious. Knows all sort of cool science facts. Avid gamer.

Not especially popular or over the top sociable, but she gets sad if no one pays attention to her a while. Will act visibly moody where ppl can see sad or worried and can catastrophize a bit in such situations.

How she’s a Type 6:

I first though we might be getting an ExxP type 7 since she was a pretty energetic child, but once puberty hit and independent thought manifested, she turned out a whole lot too reactive and ‘edgy’ for this, and more on the ‘moderate introvert’ side of things.

Since then the sisterly dynamic has been like one fluffy golden dog and 3 hissing black cats. Hissing Cats #1 and #2 are very proud of her, but cat #1 was forced to conclude that she’s probably not a positive outlook type.

Out of all the reactive types 6 fits best because she does broadcast group identity (like wearing merchandise of her favorite media and wearing buttons in solidarity with ppl she likes.) & has a big case of Big Sibling worship for M, I, and someone else who isn’t on this list due to being a 9. (a 4 or 8 might like their older siblings but probably wouldn’t constantly stress the admiration.), but she can also show lasting, pouty displeasure with authority figures who have slighted her. (Like that one time I went too far in teasing her...)

I’m just assuming the 8 fix because that tends to make 6s more bold, louder & more shameless.

Basically she is the “punk teen” type of 6. She can be a bit dramatic & over-the top but still come to her family on advice (even advice on pranks!) in ways that xSTPs of other enneagrams prolly wouldn’t.

She also tends to use self-deprecating humor in tough situations and deflects compliments to present herself as ‘ordinary’.

...

This may sound like I’m really getting down on my first example (I won’t pretend that I’m not) but the point in bringing him up is that the reason he’s like this is: He was subject to really bad parenting that put a lot of fear into him, there was no good parenting to teach him broader coping strategies, he lived in a crappy environment that crushed his dreams, in a sense ‘confirming’ those fears and making him double down, resulting in a person who is just always rigidly following the same predictable pattern or jumping from one automatic reaction to the next with very little pausing and thinking. That goes for the other types too: A ‘stereotypical’ person is a desperate person ruled by fear, who cant stop or soften up even for an instant cause they constantly feel this fire of threat under their arse.

A lot of descriptions say that 6s ‘Follow authority’ but most would balk at the notion – ‘I do the research!’ they might argue ‘I don’t just trust anyone’ or ‘I’m actually a rebel’. There is of course such a thing as denial that’s more like the extreme case.

But with a more average, functional 6 it’s not so much ‘obedience’ as that they just like to bounce their ideas off of others to get feedback, or that they feature in other’s viewpoints. So you might get someone who can naturally use feedback (something other ppl may have to learn first) or who is very considerate of others (which others might have to consciously remind themselves to do.)

Those are sometimes pretty good traits actually.

On the other hand this is probably part of what makes decisions hard cause they consider all these possible scenarios of how things might displease or cause harm to everyone involved.

Being able to naturally snap into Action Mode under stress looks a bit enviable from the outside, but I. assures me that it’s actually super stressful & exhausting, even for someone who doesn’t get to a point of just being unreasonably aggro at you.

Though even an extreme case like F.B. would probably claim that he ‘did the research’ even as he’s 1:1 quoting the Pope at you, and then saying that you ‘have to be respectful’ even if you don’t even believe in Christianity. Hence why you get a lot of authoritarians talking about “disrespect”. You didn’t “fail to obey”, you “disrespected the flag” or “hurt the feelings of the Chinese people”. Because they’re still trying or inwardly thinking that they’re doing the consideritation & considering other’s PoV thing when they’ve long since crossed from respect and consideration into mindless obedience, all while still thinking that they’re very sceptical and discerning cause after all they really distrust the other political party or whatever.

In a way you get this obsession with ‘mind control’ cause they’re not unaware of & very much looking to guard the blind spot. They’re adults trying to do adult things.

For example, if I voiced an opinion to F. B. which he didn’t like, his reaction was often to ask “who told you that”

That’s just how he seems to think opinions work, somebody tells them to you.

Makes one wonder how he thinks new opinions start.

Yeah - Nobody told me that. I concocted it myself in some corner of my head. And in the interest of objectivity, I should stress that you can also end talking out of your ass that way, if you’re not basing it on enough outside data. Making up new shit has more of a quadratic than a linear learning curve – at least with copying you get something semi-useful right away. In making up your own you might be really off a long time before you stumble on something useful.

Also, I was young at the time and it’s not wholly unreasobale to think that an inexperienced person might be duped. I reacted really badly in part cause he hit my own ego buttons cause I was of course proud of this epiphany that I had concocted by myself, and now he says (or so I perceived it, being sensitive to accusations of incompetence) that I’m too dumb to form an opinion, so of course I launched into full Obnoxious Reddit Dude Mode.

In I. It manifests more on a reasonable useful level like “Oh wait, should [young cousin] be on TikTok? I don’t want him to get sucked into some cultish BS.” which is at least something the parents should have on the radar/ warn him about even if they do let him use TikTok, because for all that it is vital for him to get his experience with independent socializing & experimentig with sel-presentation, people do sometimes get suckered into cults or goaded into unsafe tests of courage.

And in a sense… maybe they overamphasize it but to some extent they’re also simply consciously aware/ mindful of it. The rest of us are not immune to propaganda after all, solong as it’s presented in a way pleasing to our egos. Any type structure can become a ‘hook’ if you’re not careful.

#enneagram #enneagram 6 #ennea 6 #6w5 #6w7

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sgtbradfords · 3 years

Note

Sorry your getting a ton of prompts off of me 🙈

Can you write a version of SE2E11

But slightly different

Caleb is a tech wiz and hacks the police computers

They think Lucy is just running late, they’re in roll call and the screen flickers on and it’s a live video of and unconscious Lucy strapped to a table getting her Day of Death tattoo

And basically it’s plays out similar, but they see her nearly escape they see her being forced into the barrel, and they have the live feed of her inside the barrel

Alright anon, first off thank your for your patience the past couple of weeks. I hope this does your request justice. Enjoy! :)

The only thing that Lucy Chen wanted to do was go home, unwind and crawl into bed. But according to her training officer she needed to go out, blow off some steam, in order to forget about the long and restless day they had endured. She thought over his words as she changed, reluctantly deciding he was right as she fished her phone out of the front pocket of her jeans, pulling up her social media messaging app, scrolling through before finding who she wanted, pressing his contact.

“Hey.” She said into her phone. “I know it’s late, but do you want to go get a drink?”

“I’d love to.” He said with a smile in his voice. “Want to meet back at Las Torres?”

“See you in twenty.” She told him, hanging up.

Caleb Wright was someone that Lucy never expected to stumble upon, let alone a person who found her somewhat worthy of being flirted with. It started when she met him while waiting at the counter of the bar, words and flirtation coming easily. Though she was not very forthcoming until the last minute about her occupation, she found him to be intriguing, and was surprised when he showed up at the station just to give her his number. She spent days playing the should she, shouldn’t she game which resulted in Lucy cyberstalking him on his social media pages.

Tim scolded her for not being on task as she sat next to him in the shop, scrolling through his Instagram and scoffed when he caught her later in the day watching a video of him playing with his dog, making sure to tell her that it probably wasn’t even his dog as she rolled her eyes at him. But, her training officer was also the first person to officially meet him, Tim going as far as to intimidate and question Caleb when the man visited the precinct, before he reluctantly handed over the number he had taken out of Lucy’s hands.

---

“Hey, have you seen Lucy?” Jackson West asked John Nolan as he walked out of the locker room. “She didn’t come home last night.”

“She’s a grown woman. Why, you worried?”

“No. Yes. A little? It’s just- she didn’t come home last night.”

Thinking that their friend may just be running late, the two rookie officers headed to roll call, taking their seats at the front.

“Where’s Chen?” Tim asked as he walked into the room, noticing his missing boot.

“We don’t know, she had a date last night and never came home.”

Alarm bells began ringing in Tim’s head as John turned around in his chair, asking his training officer, Nyla Harper if Lucy was in the locker room. The detective’s response sent chills up Tim’s spine. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts to find hers. The phone ringing continuously before going to voicemail.

“Something’s not right.” Tim said, hanging up before quickly walking back out of the room and into the bullpen. “Sergeant.” He said as he approached their superior. “Chen’s missing.”

“What do you mean Officer Bradford?”

“My boot is missing sir. Nolan and West have not been able to reach her, and I just tried her cell myself.”

Nolan spoke first. “She had a date last night.”

“And she never came home.” Inputted Jackson.

“A date? Did she go out with that guy, the one she met at the bar?” asked Tim. “Caleb… Wright, with a W.”

Jackson recalled her plans. “Yeah, she was headed to meet up with him when we walked out together last night, about 8:30? We haven’t heard from her since.”

“If she comes in late and we sound the alarm, she’ll be in more trouble than what it’s worth.” John pointed out.

“Her phone could be dead.” Mentioned the Sergeant.

“No.” spoke Tim, shooting the suggestion down. “I just called it and it rang before going to voicemail. She also keeps it fully charged with a charger in her bag.”

“She could be stuck in traffic or maybe she’s overslept and is still at his place.”

John and Jackson spoke together. “No, Lucy doesn’t do one-night stands.”

“This guy, Caleb Wright, he came by the station yesterday, gave her his number.” Tim told the other officers.

“What else do we know about him?”

“Nothing.” Said Jackson.

“I met him yesterday, he told me he works for a medical supply company. She watched a video of him playing with a puppy.” Tim told them as they gave him an incredulous look. “Chen was checking out his social media page.”

Grey shifted on his feet. “Bradford, take West and go run this guy’s name through NCIC and LAPD’s database, see what you can find, warrants, tickets, previous charges, anything before we go knocking on his door.”

“I can run a trace on Lucy’s phone, get her into MUPS and NaMus systems.” Nyla told her commanding officer before walking away.

Tim moved quickly, beckoning Jackson to follow as he approached an available computer terminal, sitting down behind the desktop as he began his search.

“What do you think?” Jackson asked as he pulled up a chair to the terminal.

Tim worked on punching in what he knew about Caleb. “I think that we’re working a serial killer’s case and that given the circumstances, it’s not looking good.”

“She’s going to be ok, right?”

Tim continuously glanced at the clock in the corner of the computer screen, watching as the numbers for the minutes went up.

“Officer Bradford. Officer Nolan said you were looking for me?” Detective Nick Armstrong asked as he stepped into the room.

“Lucy Chen is missing. No one’s had contact with her in close to thirteen hours and Harper just sent me a text that her phone is turned off and that the GPS has been disabled.”

“And you think it’s connected to Rosalind.”

“I think that there’s no such thing as coincidences.”

“Do you have a name?”

“Yes, Caleb Wright.” Said Jackson. “But we’ve gotten no hits on any database.”

“Any social pages?”

“He has something, but we haven’t started a search.”

“May I?” he asked gesturing to the chair. Tim stood, moving out of the way as Nick sat down. “Name?”

“Caleb. Wright, with a W.”

Nick began punching the information that was given to him.

“Huh. And you’re sure that he’s on the internet?”

“Yes.” Tim told him, pacing.

“That’s weird because Caleb Wright doesn’t seem to exist.”

“What?” he said as he rushed over. “That’s impossible I seen him playing with- with a puppy on it yesterday!”

“Well, whatever it was on, it’s gone now. He must have deactivated it.”

“Even if he deactivated it, we can contact the company and-“

“On what grounds? We have nothing to back up what is being implied Officer Bradford. If he is our guy, he’s already faked one identity.”

“Bryan Coleman.”

“Exactly. This guy stole Coleman’s life to gain access to the old zoo, where he used the isolation to kill his victims.”

“He’s already got fresh blood, now he’s going to need new killing ground.”

“He already has it. If we can find the land, that’s where we will find Officer Chen.”

“We don’t have a picture of the guy, how are we supposed to find him?” asked Jackson.

“West, you work on pulling the security cameras from the front desk and the back hall. I am going to go sit with Isaac downstairs and see if he can compile a sketch from what I remember, it will be better than nothing.” Tim instructed as he quickly made his way downstairs.

Thirty minutes later, Tim was taping up the sketch of Caleb onto the whiteboard at the front of the room as Nyla worked on putting up the necessary information.

“Officer Bradford.” Jackson said walking into the room, lingering by the door. “A word.”

Tim walked over, crossing his arms as he stood in front of the rookie.

“We have a problem. There’s no footage.”

Tim looked at him in disbelief. “What do you mean there’s no footage?”

“The footage from yesterday has been wiped.”

Tim shifted on his feet. “Wiped.”

“Yes sir, I checked the timeframe that you told me he was here and all the footage, an entire hour is nothing but static.”

“Son of a bitch! How did he- when did he-“

“What do we know?” Sergeant Grey asked, walking into the room, Detective Armstrong trailing close behind.

“Any footage of Caleb inside the department yesterday has been wiped.”

“He hacked our servers so we can assume he’s very good with technology which is why we were unable to find any social media pages.”

Nolan spoke up, raising a hand. “If that’s true then he has access to anything we have on Rosalind.”

“Not everything.” Pointed out Armstrong. “Almost all of our findings from her earlier kills have never been scanned into the system, those reports are all still on paper.”

“Who has those?”

“They are locked up in storage in the basement which you have to sign out but you’re in luck, I’m old school. I happen to keep a paper copy of all my cases, for if and when technology fails us, and those copies? Are in my office.”

“Get them.” Ordered Grey. “In the meantime, we do have an update.”

“The bartender at Las Torres recognized Lucy and Caleb.” Detective Armstrong stated, pulling up the security feed onto the smart TV. “The good news, there’s a security camera in the parking lot so we know that they left at 9:05. The bad news is that the angles on the camera are shit which means we are unable to confirm faces.”

“He knew where the cameras were.” Stated Nolan from a table in the middle of the room.

“Correct Officer Nolan. Now, we were able to obtain footage from a neighboring business and have footage of this car driving by four minutes later,” Armstrong told them as he played the footage on a loop. “the plates are missing but it matches the description of a car that was reported stolen yesterday morning.”

“Now, Officer Chen’s car was found in the alleyway where she left it last night. Unfortunately, the amount of evidence that we have discovered gives us every inclination that Caleb is Rosalind’s protégée.”

The sounds of the room came to a halt as the words sunk in. They had all thought it, but no one had uttered the suspicion.

“Officer Chen is one of our own, and I know how upsetting this revelation is, but we have to remain focused. We owe her that.”

Tim closed his eyes, clenching his fist as he fought the wave of nausea that sat in the pit of his stomach.

“Nora was abducted two nights ago and we found her eighteen hours later, already tattooed and about to be put into a barrel to be suffocated. We believe that Caleb’s timeline from abduction to death to be twenty-four hours.” Nolan told them as he took over.

“Officer Chen has been missing for almost fifteen hours now, giving us approximately seven hours to find her.”

“Unless the timeline is wrong and she’s dead already.”

Tim stood from where he was leaning on the table. “You’re wrong. Chen, she’s not like the rest of the victims, she’s a fighter.”

“I haven’t known Lucy as long as the rest of you, but Bradford is right. She’s going to do everything that she can to stay alive until we save her.” Spoke Nyla, gaining a nod of appreciation from Tim.

“I’ve issued a BOLO to be broadcast for Caleb Wright and Officer Chen all over LA and surrounding counties, so I will need more officers answering the tip line as the phone calls come in.” said Grey addressing the group of officers before he began to call them out by name, giving them their tasks, leaving the close knit group of officers in the room.

“Detective Armstrong?” the officer from the front desk asked, knocking on the glass door as she stepped into the room. “Someone dropped this off at the front desk for you.” She told the group, extending the hand holding a manilla envelope.

Nick reached out, grabbing the envelope, observing the information on the outside, finding his name printed on the paper. “No return address.” He stated, looking up at the officers around him.

Tim reached into the pants pocket of his uniform, pulling out a black pair of gloves, slipping them on before he reached out a hand to take the possible evidence. He carefully undone the metal clasp, using the flashlight from his duty belt to peek into the open package. Tim looked around at the faces of the other officers that had gathered around, carefully shaking out the contents, a lone USB drive falling out.

“What the fuck?” he mumbled under his breath.

“He’s playing with us, just like Rosalind.” Armstrong said as he ran a hand over his head. “We need to plug it in, see what’s on it.”

Tim picked up the stick, palming the drive in his gloved hand. “And what if it’s just another game?”

“And what if it’s not.”

“I’m not going to let my boot become another one of their casualties!” Tim told Armstrong, his voice raising with every word.

Sergeant Grey sighed. “We need to find an unsecured computer, one that is not attached to our servers.”

“I can help with that. I’ve got my laptop in the truck, Lucy made flashcards for us to study on the internet, and we were planning on studying after shift.” Offered Nolan.

“Get it.” Grey instructed as he pulled out his phone.

Nolan walked away quickly, returning just as fast with a bag in hand. He pulled the device from the bag, powering it on as Tim connected the USB drive, a lone URL link popping up on the screen as they crowded around.

“Click it.” The sergeant ordered as words began scrolling across the screen.

‘Detective Nick Armstrong. Let it be known, this one’s for you.’

The room was silent as they read the scrolling words on the screen before they disappeared, a video popping up in its place.

“Oh my god.” John said in shock at the video before them.

“Is it live?” asked Tim, his voice cracking with emotion.

“I don’t- it doesn’t-“ Spoke the rookie, stumbling over his words.

“Is there audio?” Tim demanded, his voice raising.

Sergeant Grey placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder, grounding him. “We have to assume it is. She’s not in the barrel yet so she has to still be alive. Officer West, assist Detective Armstrong in going over the files he has. I want you to check out every file that has Rosalind’s name on it, in it, attached to it. I want history, financials, background, anything that may help us get a location. Find me something Nick. In the meantime, let’s get someone from IT up here to find us a location. Officer Nolan, you stay on the computer and if she wakes, Wright shows up or anything on that screen changes, you let me know immediately. Harper, contact her parents, don’t,” he said hesitantly. “don’t give them the full rundown of what’s going on but make them aware and that the LAPD is doing their best to find their daughter.”

Each officer went out the door, heading their separate ways as they went about the task they were assigned.

“Sir.” Tim said moving to the door, towards where his superior was walking out. “And me?”

Wade glanced over Tim’s shoulder at Nolan who was intently watching the monitor.

“She’s your boot Bradford, you know her better than anyone. Stay with Nolan and watch the feed.”

“But sir-“

“Watch the feed Bradford.” Sergeant Grey commanded as he left the room.

Tim sighed, running a hand over his face. He pulled out his phone, dialing the one person he knew he could rely on. “Hey, Lucy’s been taken. I need you.” Was all he said, hanging up the phone, clenching the metal device in his hand before stepping back into the room.

“Get Grey back in here, she’s waking up.”

“Hey Sarge!” He yelled out the door, running over to Nolan and the computer.

-----

Lucy Chen came to in a daze, her head throbbing, her mouth dry and her left side was burning. She knew what had happened as she glanced around the bare room, the realization that she had become one of them hitting her full force.

Instinct told her to pull at the restraints, the tape around her wrists not budging, making her realize that she wasn’t going anywhere, at least not until her numb body became more aware. She took in her surroundings, noticing the blinds we’re drawn, the sun filtering through, the wooden entertainment center and desk to her right, both covered in dust.

“Rise and shine sleeping beauty.” He spoke from behind her, his footsteps heavy as he walked into the room she was being held in. “I’d offer you some, but it’s better if your stomach is empty, for you know, later. All the screaming and lack of air tends to make you-“ he said before pretending to gag.

She glanced around the room, looking for anything that could potentially give her a clue as to where she was being held, spying the bottle of water on the wooden table.

“Can- can I at least have some water?” She asked, remembering that water is more sustainable, no matter the circumstance.

“Oh, of course.” He said as he moved over to the table, reaching for the bottle. “I’m not a monster.”

Caleb sat his plate down as Lucy took the time with his back to her to further observe her surroundings for the split second she had, before he turned back around, twisting the cap off as he walked over towards her. She opened her mouth, taking any water she could get. “Ah, don’t get greedy.” He chastised as she swallowed the sip he had allowed her.

“Is this why you hit on me in that bar? Why you asked me out? So you could make me a victim?”

“No! Not at all!” he told her as he took a bite of the apple from his plate. “Though, I see the confusion. You weren’t the target Lucy, you were just an opportunity. I was there scoping out Armstrong. Honestly, I don’t know what Rosalind sees in the guy. But who am I to judge, we all have our fetishes.”

Lucy swallowed harshly, “Are you gonna bury me in Rosalind’s third unmarked grave?”

“You know, that was the plan. I was gonna put Nora in there, but then your friend screwed that up.”

“Why are you doing this?” She asked, her voice raising.

Caleb smirked, “You know, that’s more of a second date question. And we’re just not gonna get there. I’m sorry.” Lucy could feel her heart stop as his words confirmed her fears. “Now, I’ve got a lot to do before I put you inside-“

Lucy panicked as he began to walk away, she needed to know, she deserved to know “Wait!” she yelled, causing the retreating man’s steps to faulter. “Why- why the tattoo? Is it… some display of ownership? Knowing that you have the ultimate control over a person, deciding when they die?”

“No.” he huffed a laugh. “It’s not for me, silly. It’s for you, to force you to face the truth of your death. It is the gift of something we rarely get in life, clarity.”

“Did Rosalind teach you that?”

“No.” he said, his voice raising as his tone became irritated. “That’s mine.”

“Rosalind is your mentor, is she not? So that would-“

“No!” he interrupted. “No, It’s not like that. We are equals.”

“Does she know that?”

Caleb laughed. “You’re good Officer Chen. But I would think carefully of how you want to proceed, because this, I’m going to enjoy this.”

________________________

The room was quiet as they watched Caleb’s retreating back, the conversation they just witnessed settling in. “The window to the left of the screen is obscured, so there’s no way to find out where she is. Dammit.”

“How long till IT gets here?” Nolan asked grimly.

“Soon. Officer Nolan, I want you and Harper to assist West and Armstrong, the more eyes we have filing through the paperwork, the better chances of finding where this house is.”

Nolan stood, walking out in search of his training officer.

“Officer Bradford, I need you to stay here and monitor the feed, she may not know of the camera but look for any identifying characteristics in that living room that could point us in the right direction. If he comes back, notify me immediately.” The Sergeant instructed before walking away.

Tim sighed sitting down into the seat that Nolan had vacated, watching as his boot took in the details of the room, her fingers twitching against the wooden arm rest. “We’re going to find you boot.”

Twenty minutes later, the sound of two pairs of footsteps walked into the room, dragging Tim’s focus away from what the IT analyst, Marcus, was working on on a second computer. “Hey. Thanks for coming in.” He said standing as Angela and Wesley walked in.

“Of course. What are you working on?”

Tim clenched his jaw, extending a hand to show what was on the screen.

“He’s recording her?” Wesley asked in disbelief.

Tim nodded his head, “We think the camera is hidden so she’s not aware that she’s being watched. Day off?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Wesley said as shared a glanced with Angela. “Can I help?”

“What’s your tolerance level for cranks and asshats wasting your time?”

Wesley couldn’t help the smirk on his face. “I’m a public defender.”

Tim rolled his eyes as they walked out of the room. “There’s an empty spot next to West so help yourself to a notepad and a phone. Besides, nothing says we’ve got squat like listening to the public.”

Wesley sat down as Tim began walking back to the room, Angela walking beside him as he took large steps. “This is useless. We should be out on the streets, kicking down doors.”

Angela placed a hand onto Tim’s arm stopping them in the middle of the pen. “Whose doors Tim? They wouldn’t be able to tell us where he is keeping her.”

“I don’t know.” He said shaking his head. “I-I can’t just sit here Ang.”

“I get that, but you’ve got to get your head in the game.” She told him as she pulled him to the side.

“I don’t need a pep talk Lopez.”

Angela searched his face. “Then why’d you call me? Because clearly, you need to get something off your chest.”

Tim looked away, glancing around the room for possible prying eyes and listening ears before he looked back to his friend, letting out a sigh. “Look, she- she wanted to go home. Okay? Go to bed. And- and I told her that she should focus on something else. She went out with Caleb because I told her to Angela.”

Angela Lopez had been witness to the many emotions of Tim Bradford over the years that she had known him, but the one he was displaying now, was one that she hadn’t seen in a long time. “You couldn’t have known.”

“But I should’ve! I’m a fucking cop.” He told her, his voice raising with every word as he stepped closer to his friend, lower his voice. “I was standing this close to the guy. Okay? Right across from him, and I never saw him coming.” He vented, his hands returning to his duty belt as he quickly got himself in check. “But she did though. She- Some part of her didn’t feel right about this whole thing. She hesitated and I-I pushed her right into him.”

Angela stood there, her mouth opening and closing as his admission of guilt left her speechless.

“Sergeant Grey!” exclaimed the voice of Marcus, as he stuck his head out of the door of the room.

Tim snapped his head towards the trembling voice as his feet quickly carried him, Angela hot on his heels.

Tim immediately went to the computer, finding a empty and broken chair on the screen. “Where the fuck is she?”

Marcus hurried back in, quickly pulling up footage on the second computer. “She escaped.”

Tim felt his eyes grow wide as he watched the recorded scene play out before them.

Lucy saw the opportunity, having previously checked the stability of the wooden chair by wiggling the pieces ever so slightly to find the weak spots, she waited for the best moment to make her escape. The chair was wooden, making it easier to break, and as soon as the front door closed, her knew it was time. As hard as she could, she pulled her right arm that was strapped to the wood, the wood splintering as she moved her wrist to her left hand, undoing the duct tape before removing the tape from her right wrist and then both of her calves.

She never heard the door open again, her hands shaking with adrenaline as she moved quickly to the back wall.

“Okay. We are ready to go.” Said Caleb as he walked into the room.

Lucy pulled her arm back and threw her punch as he walked into the room, knocking him to the ground as the force and lingering drugs forced her unsteady body to the ground. She quickly got to her feet, running towards the door as Caleb gasped in pain on the floor.

“Where did she go?” Sergeant Grey asked, his voice tainted with excitement of her escape.

“There’s no other cameras so we can’t- Shit.” Marcus cursed under his breath, typing furiously into Nolan’s computer. “He cut the feed.”

“What do you mean he cut the feed!” asked Tim, moving closer, finding a black screen in front of him.

“It’s gone, it’s still broadcasting but he must have turned it off.”

Tim ran a hand through his hair as he stepped back.

“What about a trace on the broadcast?”

“The signal is being run through an anonymizer, meaning that each time I try to back trace a location, the ISP is in a different location. He’s keeping it local to LA and the surrounding counties but it’s going to take time that we don’t have to get a better trace.”

The shrill tone of Angela’s phone broke the tension in the room. “Hey. What? He may, let me find out and I will get back to you.” She said ending the call. “That was Nolan, we may have a lead.”

Angela informed the group of Nolan’s suggestion, gaining approval from Sergeant Grey before she made her way to Wesley.

“Hey.” She said as he hung up the phone. “Do you have any clients at the Central California Women’s Facility?”

“Sure.” He said running a list of his clients through his head. “Three, I think.”

“They need to tell you who’s running contraband into the prison.”

“Okay, but I can’t do anything that would incriminate a client.”

“No one cares about black market cigarettes. Getting the smuggler might be out only hope at finding Lucy before it’s too late.” She urged.

“Okay.” Wesley said, picking up the receiver. “Let me make some calls.”

Thirty minutes later, the feed was back online, the screen showing the dirt on the ground, as faint voices could be heard in the background.

“Can we make it louder, hear what their saying?”

Marcus shook his head. “No, this is as loud as it gets for the real time audio.”

A loud rustling could be heard before the image on the screen became distorted, showing Lucy sitting in the barrel.

“So I can watch.” Caleb’s voice came through the speaker before he placed the lid onto the barrel, positioning the camera in Lucy’s face.

“Can you go back?” Grey asked as Nolan’s computer continued showing the live events.

Marcus pressed a variety of buttons on his computer, going back to when the camera showed Lucy sitting inside the metal barrel.

“Slow it down. There.” Grey pointed out. “That tree in the background, if we can get a location...”

Tim’s eyes stayed trained on the live feed, watching as Lucy began panicking. The nauseousness that Tim had felt all morning intensified as he witnessed his boot being sealed into the container, her fate being decided. He couldn’t stand there and watch what was about to happen, watch her- he walked out of the room, heading straight for the locker room.

Angela gasped as the clack of the lock snapping into place echoed through the metal, Lucy’s breaths becoming shaky as a loud thud and tumbling could be heard before coming to a stop, dirt settling around the barrel as Lucy let out a whimper.

“Mute the computer.” Grey instructed somberly, knowing what was about to come.

“Sarge?” Angela whispered.

Wade turned away from the screen, “Did Wesley get anything from his clients?”

“I.. Let me go check.” She told her commanding officer before walking out of the room, returning five minutes later with Wesley in tow.

“Benjamin Lassie. He’s who you want.”

Sergeant Grey turned towards the couple. “Start pulling everything we can on him, if you see Bradford and West grab them, we could use the hands.”

Angela nodded, walking out of the room and towards where she thinks Tim may be.

“Hey.” She said noticing him walking out of the men’s locker room. “Come on, we’ve got a name from Wesley’s client.”

Tim walked ahead of Angela, flexing his left hand, the motion not going unnoticed by the officer, but Angela chose not to comment as they walked to the closest computer terminal.

She worked on pulling the information about their lead, finding out that the low-level criminal had recently been paroled. “He’s on parole, Officer Scott Francisco.”

Tim and Jackson were able to easily find the man, making a traffic stop, obtaining the name and information that they needed.

Jackson glanced at the superior the entire ride back to the station as Tim made the appropriate phone calls, acquiring a no-knock warrant from a more than happy judge and the Mid-Wilshire’s SWAT team. The two uniformed officers parked a block away, staging as SWAT suited up and went over the plan for the breech.

Tim could feel their moods tumble even further down as their promising lead turned into a bust. “Caleb used Jerry’s identity to get into the prison, get close to Rosalind.” He realized, staring down the man sitting in the floor. “And you were our last shot at saving her.”

He stormed out of the house, throwing his gear into the back of the shop as before slamming the hatch closed. He wanted to lash out, yell at someone, chase down every lead they could grasp. But Tim Bradford was slowly giving up hope.

“Hey, check it out.” Jackson said, pulling the older officer out of his pity.

“What’s that?” he asked solemnly, gesturing towards the folder in the rookie’s hand.

“Copies of every credit card statement from the card that Caleb used in Jerry’s name. He may be good with tech but even when you steal someone’s identity, you can’t erase what’s been bought.”

Tim stood, pulling the folder out of Jackson’s hand. He glanced over the statements, a hopeful smile taking over. “There could be charges in here that leads us to Caleb. Let’s go, we’ve gotta get back to the station, get everyone on it.” He said in a rush, closing the folder as he hurried to the driver’s side of the shop.

Jackson pulled out his phone as he sat down in the passenger seat, hitting the contact for the person he needed as the phone began ringing. “Hey, Caleb stole Jerry’s identity just like Brock Coleman’s. Jerry had copies of every credit statement and gave them to us, we’re on our way back.”

“Good, we’ve got a lead here too. Wesley has been going over some of Rosalind’s biographical data, if we can cross-reference those statements with the data, we can find where he’s keeping Chen. Wesley thinks it’s somewhere that’s near and dear to Rosalind’s heart.”

“We’ll be there in ten.” Jackson told her, hanging up the phone, reaching for the file that was haphazardly thrown onto the dash, scanning through the documents.

True to his words they rolled into the parking lot ten minutes later, both walking quickly into the bullpen, finding Sergeant Grey, Angela and Wesley gathered around a table.

“Hey, hey, we’ve got something. Caleb used Jerry’s identity to rent a post office box in Kern County near the prison. But, he kept it up even after he quit. Stills pay for it, so there must be a place close by.”

“Wait, Kerns County?” Angela asked, digging through the piles of papers in front of her. “Rosalind’s family – her trust owns a farm there.” She said handing the paper over to Tim.

Tim grabbed it, looking at the information as he let out an incredulous laugh. “Son of a bitch.”

“Sergeant Grey!” Marcus huffed as he ran to the table. “She’s not got much longer.”

Sergeant Grey stood, pulling out his cell phone, scrolling through his contacts as he delivered orders. “Call Nolan and Harper, get them headed in that direction.” He instructed before speaking to the other person on the phone. “Hello Sir, we believe we have found Officer Chen. Yes Sir. Thank you.” He said as he ended the call. “Chopper will be here in five. Let’s go.”

The four officers stood on the helipad, Jackson keeping an eye on the live feed with his phone. Angela was on the phone with Kern County Sheriff Department, giving instructions to the other person on the line, telling them about the situation and where they were heading, requesting local backup.

“It looks like she’s talking to herself.” He mumbled, moving the speaker of the phone next to his ear, listening to the quiet melody coming from one of his closest friends. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Tim asked, turning to Jackson.

“She’s- she’s singing.” He whispered in disbelief, pressing the volume button of the already maxed out device as a chill went through his spine.

Jackson pulled the device away from his ear, handing it over to Tim who held it up to his own ear, hearing the soft voice of his rookie come through the speaker.

‘Say nighty-night and kiss me

Just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me

While I’m alone and blue as can be

Dream a Little Dream of Me’

Tim knew his rookie’s voice, whether it was sitting next to her for hours on end in the shop or listening to the hours long recording of her reading sentence after sentence to help him prepare for his Sergeants exam, he knew her voice. He had heard her sing before, quietly under her breath as she sung along to the song playing on the radio of the shop or her mumbling the words of the song stuck in her head that she had heard on her drive to work that morning. But he knew those words, the melody of the song that he was hearing her softly sing, would haunt him for the rest of his life.

The LA police department helicopter landed on the helipad as Tim stood frozen in place, his rookie’s oxygen deprived voice ringing in his ears.

“Bradford.” Jackson said questioningly. “Sir? Are- are you ok?”

Tim absentmindedly handed the owner of the phone their device back, the wind from the blades of the chopper hitting him, pulling him out of his trance. “Yeah.” He said clearing the emotions that were held his throat. “Let’s go.”

“She’s lost consciousness.” Spoke Jackson through the headset over halfway through the flight. Tim leaned his head back onto the metal wall, silently saying a hopeful prayer as a sense of dread overcame him.

Thirty minutes after takeoff, the helicopter was beginning its decent into an open field when something out of the corner of his eye, caught Tim’s attention.

“A tree.” He said pointing out the right side of the aircraft, remembering the piece of wood from a different perspective. “That’s the tree from the video.”.

The chopper landed, the passengers aboard hastily making their way out of the aircraft as they met the local deputies.

“If our calculations are correct, we’re out of time. Bradford, Lopez make your way up there to the tree, look for fresh dirt. Sheriff, Officer West and I will take your SWAT team and head towards the house where we believe our suspect to be.”

Tim took off in a run, Angela along with a few sheriff deputies following hot on his heels as they quickly approached the hill, scaling it with ease, swiftly reaching the top. He made his way towards the dead tree as Angela instructed the other officers to spread out in different directions in order to cover more ground as he walked the parameter around the dead tree, hoping to find something as he looked for any signs that the ground had recently been disturbed.

The late afternoon sun casted a glow onto the panoramic views around him, showcasing the dry California land that leaves everything in its path tarnished. But the burning star proved to be a blessing instead of a curse as the flash of something metal reflecting the sun’s rays back towards him, gained his attention.

He ran, stumbling over his feet as his knees slammed into the ground. A ring. And not just any ring, it was one his subconscious was familiar with, having seen it adorn her finger a countless number of times.

He picked it up, palming the warm metal holding the opal that was glinting in the sun. ‘She’s close.’ He thought as he stood, looking down at the ground around him before he began to stop on the ground, listening for anything abnormal.

It didn’t take long. “I’ve got her.” He yelled as his voice cracked.

Tim pocketed the ring, calling out once again, louder and more frantically as he fell to his knees, his voice echoing as the footfalls of Angela and the local deputies hurried over. He used his hands, moving away as much of the loose dirt that he could as other hands joined the effort, one of the deputies using an expandable shovel, casting it behind them.

“Come on.” He chanted under his breath as the metal lid of the barrel was exposed. He reached over, undoing the metal clasp as someone shoved the metal of the shovel under the lid, lifting the piece off in ease.

“Lucy.” He sighed as his arms reached in for her slumped form. “Help me get her. Let’s get her.”

“We need medical.” Someone said in the background, speaking into their handheld.

“Lucy.” He said once they extracted her as they laid her down.

“Is she breathing?” Angela asked as he glanced at her chest, finding no movement as his fingers went to her neck, feeling for a pulse.

“No, I’ve got no pulse.”

Tim leaned over, pinching her nose, giving her two rescue breaths as Angela moved beside him, counting out as she performed the thirty compressions. Tim giving her another two breaths, “Come on Lucy.” He whispered.

“Suspect had been neutralized.”

“MedEvac is five out.”

“Dammit Chen! Not like this.” He cursed as Angela counted to thirty once again as he leaned over, once again breathing for her. “Switch.”

Angela moved back and into Tim’s previous position as he laced his fingers together, pushing hard and fast into her chest.

“Tim…” Angela said worriedly.

“No!” He said in between counts. Angela was prepared to give another round of rescue breaths when a gasp came from before them.

“Holy shit.” Angela cursed, letting out the breath she had been holding.

Tim huffed out a laugh, smiling. “Lucy.” He breathed as both her arms rose, preparing for a fight. “Hey, hey, hey, you’re ok. It’s me.”

Lucy looked around with hooded eyes, as her head lulled to the side, staring at Tim as reality settled in, the tears escaping as she began to sob. He leaned over, pulling her into him, mindful of her injuries.

“I’ve got you Lucy.” He mumbled into her hair as her shaky hands grasped onto his uniform for dear life. “I’ve got you.” He repeated as she sobbed in his arms.

The next few hours passed in a blur, the medical helicopter flying in, loading up Lucy and taking her to the closest hospital.

“I’m going with her.” Tim sternly told the flight medic on board as they went to stop him from getting aboard. The medic knew then not put up a fight, watching as the officer climbed aboard, sitting next to his patient.

Soon they were in the air, Lucy holding on to Tim’s hand as the medic began their assessment. Her grasp never waned from his, even in her altered state of consciousness as he ran his free hand over her hair. He stayed by her side, never leaving her until they reached the awaiting staff of the emergency department.

“Sir, I know that she’s your partner, but I’m going to have to ask for you to leave.”

“I’m not-“

“We need to assess her injuries Officer Bradford.” The nurse stated firmly. “And in order to do that, you need to leave.”

“I-“ he hesitated as all the fight left him. “Ok.” He sighed, letting go of her hand. “Just let me- I’ll be back boot.”

Lucy sleepily smiled at his words.

He did come back, never leaving her side for longer than what he deemed necessary, keeping her unconscious form company as he sat at her bedside. They were two hours from home, affirming his decision to not go, at least not until he knew that she was ok. Wesley drove from LA, picking Angela up from the farmhouse with a change of clothes in the trunk, stopping by to give Tim his own fresh clothes and the emergency bag of clothes Lucy kept in her locker.

Jackson showed the next morning, giving Tim a break though he only left to stretch his legs before returning to the room. They sat in silence, Tim filling out his reports as Jackson scrolled through the apps on his phone. Around noon, Jackson stood mentioning going out to grab something to eat from the mom-and-pop burger stand that just so happened to have a second location nearby, Tim giving the rookie some cash and reciting the two orders he knew by heart.

He kept an eye on the clock, knowing that Lucy’s parents were due to arrive at any moment, Tim personally keeping them updated throughout the night on any improvements. There was none as the doctor chose to keep her sedated, but it was the thought that counts.

Tim was sitting on the doctor’s stool at her bedside when she came to, pretending to read a magazine as he watched her wake up. Lucy knew he was fooling no one as she chuckled.

“What are you reading, Teen Rebel?”

Tim looked at her with a teasing grin as he rolled over to her. “They actually have some really insightful political articles.”

“Mmm-hmmm.” She said not believing him. “Oh. Which BTS member is your soulmate? It’s gotta be Suga, right?” she asked him as she leveled a look.

“Totally.” He agreed shaking his head as he skimmed the questions, not clear on what she was talking about. “What’s a BTS?”

Lucy laughed, a bad decision as her broken ribs protested at the movement. “Oh God.” She cried out in anguish as she took a steady breath, breathing through the pain.

Tim watched her with concern, masking it as she turned to him with a smile.

“Have you been here all night?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“No.” he denied, shaking his head as he forced out another no, repeating the word as he looked away from her stare.

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Mm-hmm.” She said about to call her training officer out on his lying capabilities when a knock sounded at the door.

“Hey.” Nolan smiled as he walked through the door. “You’re awake.”

Lucy turned her head, changing her posture in the bed as Jackson walked through the door, carrying a bag. “Hey. Is that food?” she asked excitedly, causing the men in her life to chuckle. “What, I’m starving ok?”

“I would wait on the food Officer Chen.” A quite voice said as they walked into the room, knocking on the door. “Doctor Allison Rivera. And you, Lucy Chen are one very lucky lady.” Lucy nodded absentmindedly at the words, she didn’t think herself to be lucky.

“You have several abrasions and a few stiches throughout, as well as a slight concussion along with two broken ribs and moderate dehydration.”

“Does that mean I’m going to be in the hospital for a while?”

“I believe that you can be discharged tomorrow. Your body is dehydrated, and I want to make sure no other complications arise.”

She turned her head, looking towards Tim. “How did you guys find me anyways?”

Tim opened his mouth to speak when Nolan interrupted. “It was all of us. I talked to Rosalind, Jackson found the credit card statements, Angela found the farm, Wesley talked to some of his clients and Tim made all the connections.”

Lucy nodded her head appreciatively. “Thank you.”

“Oh!” Nolan said removing the item from behind his back. “I brought you something.”

She smiled, laughing at the enormous pink teddy bear that was in his hands. “I can see that.”

“It was the biggest one I could find.”

“I would hope so.” She gingerly laughed once again. “Oh my god, I’m going to need a bigger apartment.”

“I think we’ll be just fine Lucy.” Jackson told her, smiling as he rolled his eyes.

“Thank you Nolan.”

“Hey!” Jackson weakly protested. “I brought you food! Besides, he cannot stay in my room.”

“Well, he is a she, and she is going to be sleeping with me in my bed, since I am clearly never going on a date again.”

“I’m not sure that should be your takeaway.” Doctor Rivera said from the foot of the bed, watching the interaction.

“Oh, hang on.” Nolan said looking at the doctor. “Statistically, that’s actually pretty safe.”

Tim quickly glanced at Lucy before looking away, nodding his head. “Definitely should.”

“Wow, so is this the kind of support and understanding I can look forward to from now on?” she asked as she looked around at each of them.

“Yes.”

“Pretty much.”

“Oh definitely.”

Lucy chuckled at their responses. “That’s great. That’s really good.”

“You hungry?” Tim asked her before looking at the doctor.

“You can eat, just keep the portions small and non-greasy for right now.”

Lucy nodded as she opened the Styrofoam container in front of her. “Wait. Is this- is this a veggie burger and fries with extra pickles?” she asked, looking at Jackson.

“Don’t thank me, it was all Bradford.”

Lucy picked up a fry, turning her head and smiled. “You know me so well.”

Tim laughed as she let out a sigh, chewing the greasy potato. “Too well.”

“Well, I’ve got other rounds to make but I will be back by this evening to check in on you. A nurse will be by shortly to take vitals and give you some medicine for the pain.” Doctor Rivera said, dismissing herself.

“Your parents called me on the way up and said they’re on their way, I’m gonna go meet them downstairs. Come on Nolan.”

“Oh great just who I wanted to see.” She mumbled, rolling her eyes as Jackson left.

“I’ve actually got a date with Grace in three hours, so I’ve got to head back to LA. But I will swing by your apartment tomorrow with pastries.”

Lucy’s face lit up at the word pastries. “Make sure there’s a bear claw!”

“For you, I’ll make sure there’s two.” He smiled, saying goodbye as he walked out of the room.

Lucy sighed, leaning her head back, closing her eyes. “Are my parents seriously coming?” she whined.

“Yes.”

She let out a groan, opening her eyes as she reached for the burger. “Don’t get me wrong, I love them, most of the time- but after all of this, I just don’t-“ she sighed, her words drifting off as she took a bite.

“You’re their only child Chen.”

She swallowed the bite. “I know, but-“

“Give them thirty minutes and then tell them you’re tired.”

Lucy turned her head. “Is that not the equivalent of going to the bathroom on a date and not returning?”

Tim shrugged before hesitantly speaking. “How are you?” he asked, his tone low and laced with concern.

“I’m-“ she began before letting out a sigh “I’m alive.”

He nodded at her honesty. She wasn’t ok, he wasn’t ok, and they both knew it.

She moved her left hand to the edge of the bed, leaving her palm up. “Thank you.” She whispered. “I don’t-“ she began, choking on her words as tears welled in her eyes.

“It’s ok Luce.” He whispered back, placing his hand in hers. Lucy relished in the feel of his hand in hers before a knock on the door tore them apart, her mom rushing in.

Tim rolled the chair away from the bed, wordlessly reminding her of his suggestion as her parents began speaking rapidly. Lucy looked past them towards Tim, her face pleading for help. He chuckled, shaking his head before moving silently towards the door. They weren’t ok, but with time (and a lot of therapy) they could be.

#tim bradford x lucy chen #the rookie fic #chenford fanfic #chenford fic #chenford #fanfic

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weapon13whitefang · 3 years

Text

Here’s why I, personally, don’t think the Daryl Spoiler is as big of a fucking deal as people are making it out to be.

So it’s all over the fandom by now, Imma just say shit now. If you don’t wanna know, don’t read anymore okay? Sorry not sorry at this point.

For those that don’t know what I’m talking about and want to know, here’s the scoop – This is all told in flashback due to Dog leading Daryl and Carol to a Cabin Daryl recognizes. In the flashback, after the bridge explosion that “killed” Rick, Daryl seems to still be off wandering the woods and searching the water for Rick’s body (As we knew he was). We don’t know his state of mind or how he’s acting but if this isn’t long after Rick’s “Death” then he’s most likely still in mourning.

Well then Daryl runs into a woman named Leah, which we see a glimpse of this woman in one of the trailers (Which, honestly, is so quick and brief and for a second I thought it was Magna funny enough but annyywayyy), and at first she’s very stand-offish and up in arms against Daryl (understandable, most of the survivors that don’t know each other tend to be hostile/guarded against each other). She seems to realize Daryl isn’t a threat and the two part ways.

We’re give moments of time that show Daryl and Leah keep running into each other as he’s searching for Rick and Leah is doing whatever she is doing. We aren’t specified on how these constant run-ins are played out. We don’t know if Daryl talks to her or she confronts him a lot. We don’t know. We just know that time goes by and that they’ve formed a relationship with each other. We don’t get any specifics, again, besides she’s cooking for him at his camp, they’re snuggles up watching stars together, and apparently there’s a hint that they’re noodling with one another because the. we see Daryl and Leah under a blanket together in front of a fire and she snuggles him closer to her… And we get Dog as a Puppy… Which, does that mean Daryl and Leah found dog together? Or was Dog Leah’s dog and she left him to Daryl? Or what?... Oh well, Puppy Dog! Also… They don’t SHOW Daryl having sex. It’s implied, sure, but anything can look sexually implied with the right lighting and angle. So if they did bump uglies, I don’t know for certain until I get to SEE the episode.

Well, anyway, we then go from snuggles by the fire and puppies to back at the cabin with Leah telling Daryl that he needs to start choosing what he wants because she thinks he’s all over the place… Now, to be fair, it’s kind of always been that Daryl gets dragged all over the place. He’s torn between his loyalty to Rick and finding him, his loyalty to those in Alexandria, and now apparently his whatever relationship with Leah. Well if Daryl says anything to this, I don’t know the spoiler doesn’t say. But he apparently leaves and goes back to his search for Rick’s body before he’s back at the camp. Which leads to a meetup with Carol, who comes by his camp to bring him stuff but also to tell him she isn’t going to be able to visit him anymore because Ezekiel and Henry need her at the Kingdom (which explains a little to why Daryl seemed surprised to see her later on when she and Henry go looking for him). This news seems to settle things for Daryl and he wanders back to the cabin for Leah… But Leah isn’t there. But her shit is still around, so Daryl believes she’ll be back. So he leaves her, basically, a little love note. “I belong here with you. Come find me.” But it’s implied she chose to just leave him, even knowing the routes he takes to look for Rick and how to get to his camp.

So… that’s the big booharah that has everyone shitting themselves and freaking the fuck out… Over what? This is a flashback. FLASHBACK. Something that happened during the missing years of the time jump… This implies Daryl has been out in the woods for YEARS looking for Rick, first of all (Which OMG my fucking heart. Knew this but the confirmation makes my heart want to cry for their brotherly love U3U ). But this whole mess has shown me that… A lot of people would rather have Daryl alone and miserable in the woods than find any form of comfort in someone. He’s lonely for fuck sake! He’s lonely, his best friend said she won’t be coming around anymore, his brother-friend is “Dead”, and he’s not happy back at Alexandria without being able to put Rick to rest but doesn’t wanna be far from them in case they need him… He’s just a lonely guy. And, I’m sorry, but this belief that Daryl needs to be alone for six/seven years… That’s just cruel.

But here’s what is making me laugh. This is OBVIOUSLY a show of character develop for Daryl. About why he is more comfortable with opening up to someone like Connie (this isn’t a ship call out, this is an observation). That Daryl can be open to having a romantic interest when, up until now, he’s been the lone wolf character just floating around everyone. No real settlement to a character (no matter what you all think or wanna say, Daryl was never in-canon called out as being with any character in a romantic way. Can still say the same for Leah to). This was an opening for Daryl to not be alone anymore, because Carol wasn’t gonna be coming around anymore and no one else came out to help him/stay with him. So I don’t blame him for reaching for someone he connected to, even if only briefly. If Daryl is comfortable with you/cares for you in any capacity, he will reach out for you. And whether we like it or not, he got comfortable with Leah. He let her snuggle him, guys. That’s a big sign he was okay with her. Sexy time aside, whatever. He was something with her and she to him and then she was just outty-3000. Which is really sad for him... Someone else he was close to stopped coming around. Like, Damn. Daryl can’t catch a break. Also, let it be noted, he didn’t go chasing her down. He could’ve easily tracked Leah down to stay with her/let her know in person he’s picking her... He didn’t. That tells me a lot. That should tell you all a lot!

Third thing is… This happened IN THE PAST. This means that the Daryl we see that Carol and Henry finds and up until now is still the same Daryl we’ve been seeing. This doesn’t change his narrative. It just adds more layers to him. It shows more growth, That’s great after all those seasons of Daryl having no lines or actions or any growth. It’s downright beautiful to me!

Nothing has changed for Daryl. He’s still the same as he was… Well right now he’s very angry and hurt and fighting with Carol, but he’s in a raw state right now. Remembering something like that then having a recent heart wrenching event be brought back up – the Connie trapped thing – has made Daryl’s hackles rise and he’s lashing out. We know that’s what Daryl does. He bites hard and digs into what makes you upset. Like when he threw the stuff about Beth cutting her wrist at her. He said that to specifically hurt her. Just as he threw the “No… That’s on You. That’s on you because you never know when to stop”. He held back on biting her head off back when the event happened. Which shows a lot of growth from Daryl and a lot of maturity. But he’s raw and upset so he’s digging at her.

This won’t end their friendship. Friends and couples fight all the time. This doesn’t mean they’re finished with each other. For the Carylers out there hissing a fit, these two are raw and broken characters and sometimes two similar characters hurt each other cause they know how to. But that doesn’t mean they hate each other. And I believe Daryl when he said “I aint ever gonna hate you”. He’s just angry and Carol is defensive and that’s not a good combo for anyone together...

For you Bethylers, so what if he fucked someone else? It’s not like Daryl was an actual virgin. Norman said he liked the idea of playing Daryl LIKE a virgin. But I always took that as emotionally. He’s an emotional virgin learning to experience and grow and shy about his feelings and understanding them…. He’s MERLE DIXON’S little brother. He followed Merle around. You think Daryl didn’t fuck around when he and Merle were running around? Look at Season 1 Daryl. That boy was a rough around wild man. Aint no way he never fucked before. Or at least got a blow job. I’m not saying he couldn’t be, but I don’t see Merle letting his brother move about with him without getting fucked/not letting his brother come off as gay (To put it in Merle’s colorful term). Not the way those characters were before S3. Nah.

For the Donnie fans, this just explains why he’s been so easy to open to Connie. He’s had practice letting someone in and being comfortable with the idea of it again. Connie also makes it easy on him by being her adorable and understanding self. Without Daryl’s growth into a previous emotional/physical relationship, I don’t see them connecting as quickly as they did.

I really do not see why this has everyone in a frantic state, Maybe I just look at things differently? Or I just don’t care that much about who Daryl ends up with forever. As long as he’s in a good headspace and happy… Let Daryl Fuck! Let him develop away from the Alexandrian’s and everyone else. Let him develop at all, Jesus…

#the walking dead #the walking dead spoilers #daryl dixon #beth greene #twd carol #queen carol #twd connie #twd leah #twd spoilers #the Daryl Dixon incident

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mittensmorgul · 3 years

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forget "canon-compliant" ways a reboot could undo the finale, it should just carry on as if "Carry On" never happened. no explanation, no apologetics, just show it the same respect it showed the rest of the series

You know, this is completely valid, yes.

trick is finding the cutoff point, because I personally would argue that it would be them driving away from the beach while Chuck floundered in the sand behind them.

First point of order, does Dean throw it in reverse and run Chuck over? Or just taunt him a few times like they’re gonna bring him along and then go speeding off? I mean, I enjoy the “punishment” of him having to find his own way in life as a human, after spending the entirety of known creation basically tormenting humans like playthings. I personally like thinking that he’ll now have to endure a normal human life and truly feel the struggles he’d put TFW through for years. So for me, that’s a good ending for him, but I know others have different opinions on that.... so that one can stay open...

Next up, what about Amara and Jack? Can they be Free™ too? Do they have to sacrifice their own self-identities to become Conglomerate God, or can they be people too? Just as Amara was beginning to love and appreciate creation, she sacrificed it all on Chuck’s lie. Jack lost himself, too. Like... sure this is what he was supposedly “born to do,” but don’t we disdain “fate” in the world of Team Free Will? Shouldn’t they still be allowed to choose their own lives, too? And not choose what Destiny has dictated they do? Because that was Chuck’s story, not theirs.

And what of Cas, and even Billie? Languishing in the Empty for TRYING to do the right thing, and ending up dying pointlessly in a trap set up for them BY CHUCK. Like... this is just the worst...

I’d also like to fetch Rowena out of Hell. She didn’t deserve that, and that whole line never got addressed after they spent the latter half of the season implying that her rule was in jeopardy...

I’d also like confirmation that everyone taken in 15.18 was returned and safe and happy. And then like... just go from there.

Dean doesn’t have to steal someone’s dog because he gets Cas back.

I mean, I kinda wrote this whole fic already, so yeah of course I support this concept, even if it doesn’t turn out exactly the way I wrote it in Revenge of the Text.

#spn 15.20 #just throw it wholly in the garbage and start from the last valid thing that happened...#victorious over chuck and ready to set the world to rights #and claim their deserved reward for saving the universe... all of them...#Anonymous

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trashyswitch · 3 years

Text

Nom Nom for Love

Remus is a strange man who likes to nom on people when he wants affection. So when Remus feels hungry for affection, he tries nomming on a couple people to see who will be the most understanding and deliver his much-needed love.

This prompt was suggested by an anonymous user who signed off with a scorpion 🦂 emoji. So whoever you are, I hope my fanfic pulls you out of that 'crabby' mood of yours!

Remus is a bit of an anime girl. He will stick his tongue out, he will go on flustered and angry rants, and he will even go full-on yandere in the uniform and everything! But as of late, Remus has also developed a new strange habit: nomming on people.

Yes, Remus will nom on people. And by nomming, I mean casually biting people. Usually when an anime girl noms on someone, it’s because they’re angry. But for whatever reason, Remus had decided that killing is his angry response and nomming shall be his plea for people to ‘notice him’. If one didn’t know any better, they could easily assume a vampire is living in the mind palace now! But nope. It’s just Remus nomming like a puppy because ‘I want attention and I will not stop the nom-nom, until you give me attention’.

Now, the boys didn’t really know how to respond to his biting habit. At first, the boys would get angry at him and punish him for biting. But overtime, the boys had all created their own responses and strategies for handling Remus’s nomming habit:

Patton started off like any person would: by screaming in pain and bursting out crying. But overtime, Patton’s screams would lessen to yelps and Patton would either scold him for biting, or take things away from him. Remus quickly learned to bite him a bit lighter due to his sensitivity to pain.

Virgil has been seen hissing at him, and threatening that he’ll bite back if he doesn’t let go. Though most of the time this got Remus to let go, Virgil has had to bite Remus right back a couple times, to show he wasn’t bluffing when he made his threat.

Roman started out by either hitting him on the forehead or biting him back on the same spot he bit him. But Roman soon learned from Remus just why he bit as much as he did. Now that he understood, Roman now wears dog bite protective sleeves so that he’s not badly injured when Remus wants to ‘express’ himself.

Logan would start out with hitting Remus across the face with a newspaper or a magazine. Soon though, Logan would come up with his own strategies: The nerd often hid his arm in his shirt and would put a fake, rubbery arm into his sleeve. This would actually catch Remus off guard when he didn’t even flinch in pain at the bite. Logan would then give him the fake arm and ask him what he wants while getting his arm back into his sleeve.

Lastly: Janus had grown a full pain tolerance to his biting. He treated the attention bites like a little puppy’s bites: purely playful. Though Janus would warn him when he bit in certain spots (ex: his wrist), Remus was generally good at biting him on the arms, on the shoulder or on the fatty parts of him. Janus basically taught Remus to learn the pain tolerant spots like tattoo tolerances: go for the fatty, non-boney spots and you’ll be fine.

One day, Remus was feeling extra eager for pets and attention. He started off by biting his favorite person to bite: Janus.

Janus blinked at the bite and looked at the boy. “Hello Remus.” Janus greeted.

Remus opened his mouth and removed his teeth from his upper arm. “Hi!” Remus replied.

Janus moved his hand up to Remus’s ear and started scratching the back of it. “In need of some scratches and rubs?” Janus asked.

Remus closed his eyes, leaned into the touch and nodded with a content smile.

Janus decided to give Remus some more ear scratches before moving onto his neck. Remus went cross-eyed and gasped at the feeling and slowly closed his eyes as he leaned into the wonderful scratches. Janus smiled happily and continued to scritchy-scratch.

Remus gently shoved his head into Janus and rubbed his head, shoulders and back into Janus’s chest. He was acting so much like a dog! The only thing that was missing was a wide smile with a panting tongue out. “Who needs dogs in the house when we have a Remus?” Janus teased.

Remus giggled and shook his hair out. “Woof woof, bitch.” Remus joked.

“Says the crazy twin who bites people out of love.” Janus joked back.

Remus laughed and nodded.

“As much as I love petting you and giving you attention, I have a couple things I need to get done.” Janus told him.

Remus’s eager smile dropped into hurt and disappointment. “Awww…”

“But, there’s bound to be someone else who can give you attention.” Janus added.

“Yeah...but they’re not as understanding as you.” Remus whined.

“Even Roman?” Janus asked.

Remus blinked and looked down. He had forgotten about Roman. “Well...I guess Roman’s getting better.” Remus admitted.

“Why don’t you get his attention. I’m sure he’ll enjoy his twin brother’s puppy-like ways.” Janus suggested as he got up and started to walk away.

Remus nodded and looked down for a few seconds. He didn’t really wanna ask Roman for love and attention. As much as he knew Roman could handle his bites and begs, Roman found happiness in other people besides him. Remus didn’t really feel like being reminded of that. But...He supposed the only way to reverse any of those beliefs, was to give him a chance. So, Remus walked up to Roman’s room and knocked on the door.

“Come in.” Roman called back.

Remus walked into the room and was about to nom him for attention. But Roman actually brought his arm over to him. “In need of some attention, brother?” Roman asked.

Remus nodded his head and gave Roman a light little nom as a confirmation. Roman smiled and patted the spot beside him on his bed. Remus clapped his hands excitedly, and happily crawled up. When Remus was ready, Roman put his coloring book down and started to play wrestle with Remus.

Soon, the bed became some sort of wrestling ring while the boys sloppily wrestled each other. Remus’s movements were very much dog-like and careless, while Roman’s movements were more put together and mindful. Roman would do more strategic moves, while Remus would just lunge at him and push him around the bed.

Finally though, Remus did manage to get the upper hand on Roman by tickling him while he was pinned.

“Ohoho gehehehez- Rehehehemuhuhuhus! Stahahap thahahahat!” Roman laughed.

“I’ve got you now! Mwahahaha!” Remus declared, before scratching and spidering his fingers on his ribs, sides and abs.

Roman squealed loudly and rested his shoulders and neck back as laughter poured out of his mouth. “REHEHEMUHUHUHUS! THIHIHIS IHIHISN’T HOHOHOW WREHEHESTLIHIHING WOHOHORKS!” Roman told him loudly.

“I know. But, it’s how play-wrestling works.” Remus reminded him as he spidered his fingers up and down his ribs.

Roman just laughed at the tickling and soon, started trying to get revenge on him. He started with squeezes to the hips.

“HEHEY! Rude much?” Remus asked, protecting his hips.

“All’s fair when it comes to tickle-wrestling fights.” Roman replied as he went for his lower ribs. Remus squealed and flopped onto Roman in surprise! Then, Roman flipped Remus over onto his back and trapped him with tickles to his belly and his belly button.

Remus bursted out laughing and kicked his legs a little bit. “AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! IHIHIHI’M STUHUHUHUCK!” Remus yelled.

“Yup! You are stuck in my tickly trap! And you shall be stuck there for an eternity! MWAHAHAHA!” Roman teased.

Remus shook his head and rocked back and forth a little. “MYHYHY EHEHEVIHIHIL LAHAHAUGH IHIHIS BEHEHEHETTEHEHER!” Remus argued.

“Really now? You think your evil laugh is much better than mine? Is that what you really think?” Roman asked.

In response, Remus hissed.

Roman paused his tickle attack and gasped. “Did you just hiss at me?!” Roman asked before bursting into laughter.

Remus giggled and hissed at him again.

“Oh that’s it!” Roman wrapped both his arms around Remus and started attacking his ribs, his belly and his hips. “NOOOHOHOHOHOHAHAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAHAP! ROHOHOHOMAHAHAHAHAN IHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLEHEHES!” Remus laughed loudly.

“That’s what you get for hissing at me, you evil cat!” Roman warned.

“IHIHI’M NAHAHAHAT AHAHA CAHAHAHAT! VIHIHIRGIHIHIL’S THEHEHE CAHAHAHAT!” Remus yelled back.

“Noooo, Virgil’s a bat!” Roman responded.

“FAHAHAHALSEHOHOHOHOOD!” Remus yelled back.

“Hey! Don’t be stealing people’s quotes!” Roman yelled jokingly.

Roman and Remus went through a long tickle session before Remus was let go. As much as he loved it, Remus secretly wanted more cuddles, tickles and belly rubs than play fights. Remus wanted nice showings of love that didn’t involve fighting of any kind. Though, he knew he could only take what he could from a man who lived off fights.

So, Remus went to the third person he could trust: Logan.

Logan was an interesting man with a surprising amount of patience. Ever Since Remus apologized for the threats and injuries he caused, Logan and Remus had gotten closer bit by bit. Logan had helped him draw out a picture of a burned person, and had been on a few crime adventures with him. Though asking for attention and love would be quite a bit different, Remus knew it just might be the variety Remus and Logan needed in their life.

Remus walked up to the open door and walked right in. Remus, feeling attention-seeking once again, walked up and nommed on Logan’s arm. But, Remus let out a muffled giggle when he realized he had bitten yet another rubber arm. Remus pulled the rubber arm away from him and chewed on it for a bit.

“Now now, Remus: I want to be able to use it at least two times over.” Logan warned him. Remus dropped the arm onto the ground and crawled himself up to Logan. Then, Remus rubbed his head, his shoulder and his upper arm against Logan’s chest. “He-...Hello Remus.” Logan stuttered in surprise. Remus had never acted like this before! His new behaviour looked almost wolf-like to him.

Remus rubbed his cheek happily into Logan’s shoulder a few times, before grabbing Logan’s wrist and gently pulling him off the chair. “Cuddles.”

Logan chuckled and started to get up from his seat. “Has everyone else been denying you the cuddles you so desperately desire?” Logan asked, following Remus.

Remus nodded his head and sat down onto the end of Logan’s bed. Logan shook his head with a toothy smile and sat down beside him. Remus pulled Logan down as he laid his back onto the bed. “WEEEEEeeeee!” Remus cheered before his back made a soft ‘plop’ onto the bed comforter. “Oof!”

“Oof indeed.” Logan responded and laid onto his side. “Belly rubs, I assume?”

Remus nodded his head and lifted up his shirt to expose his belly. “Yes please!” He replied.

“Very well.” Logan started to gently start rubbing his belly like he would to a child with a tummy ache. Remus closed his eyes and smiled as he visibly melted from the touch. Logan rubbed the upper belly around the abs, and would move his circular strokes down to cover his belly button for a second or two. Soon though, Logan’s hand would move up to Remus’s semi-invisible abs again.

At this point, Remus had started to softly purr from how soft and calming Logan was making him feel. The rubs felt amazing to him and he wanted those belly rubs to last forever, if possible.

Logan smiled and enjoyed watching Remus melt into a puddle of pleasure. It was fun being able to make him happy from the simplest touches. It’s like finding that sweet spot on a dog or a cat that makes them either pant and wag their tail, or rub their body onto the ground. It was so cute and Remus was no exception.

Remus soon scooted himself next to Logan and snuggled into him. In response, Logan smirked and started squeezing his side.

“eEK! Lohohogahan!” Remus giggled.

“Yes Remus?” Logan replied.

“Nohoho squeheezes!” Remus called.

“Not in the mood for them?” Logan asked.

“Nohohot yehet.” Remus responded.

So, Logan decided to give Remus a long back rub next. He massaged with his fingers, lightly dug in with his palms, and rubbed with his whole hands. Remus happily enjoyed the feeling of a free massage from a smart man who knew anatomy really well.

And soon, Logan gave his sides a little tweak as an ‘are you ready’ signal.

Remus giggled and nodded back, signalling that yes, he is indeed ready for tickles.

Logan smiled eagerly, rolled Remus onto his back and started skittering and squeezing his sides. Remus immediately let himself go and laughed happily in his arms.

“YAAAAHAHAHAHAYYYYY!” Remus laughed and snuggled closer. Logan giggled along with him and switched up his technique to drumming and squishing. Remus squealed in surprise and threw his head back with even more laughter leaving his lips. “THIHIHIHIS IHIHIHIS SOHOHO FUHUHUHUN!” Remus admitted.

“Really? I’m delighted to see you’re enjoying the attention.” Logan responded with a smile.

Remus wiggled around and enjoyed the feeling of belly rubs and tickles from Logan. This was the kind of attention that Remus had wanted all along. He really thought he was getting more of this attention from Janus. But he couldn’t receive it due to busy reasons. But, Remus fully understood. Everybody has things to do.

Remus was actually quite surprised to see that Logan was free enough to offer him some belly rubs and tickles. But, he guessed that Logan has a little more love in his system than he lets on...

#family fluff #tooth-rotting fluff #adorable remus #ticklefic #ler!logan #switch!roman #switch!remus

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