#...because it's like saying 'the sky is blue!!!!' and expecting people to be horrified and shocked

[uncanny-tranny]

I know I've talked about this before, but as somebody with Strong features who has been mocked for it, it really infuriates me when people bully others for changing their strong features through surgery instead of criticizing beauty culture, you know, a big issue as to why people with strong or ethnic features are often bullied or even discriminated against. When you bully people for altering their appearance through surgery, you may just be victim-blaming somebody. Beauty culture is the issue, not somebody using their bodily autonomy as they see fit.

[ilguna]

☼ whisper of the beast (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; on your own, you try to find your boyfriend in the arena. instead, you run across something much, much worse.

warnings; swearing, death, weapon usage, ehhh gore, blood mention.

wc; 2.5k

prompt; 11. "Just keep breathing. In and out. You're doing great."

—

There is something seriously horrifying going on with this arena, and each time you think you get close to figuring it out—it changes.

The only consistent factor in each of your theories is the jungle, and that’s because it’s the root of the fear. When you travel through the greenery for long periods of time, a creeping feeling grows on you, one that you can’t shake unless you make your way back to the beach.

Which is far from safe, itself. Especially since there are nine other tributes alive here, roaming around, hunting for lone victors. For it only being the second day of the Games, it’s remarkable that so many are dead, already. With six of them dying today, alone.

It makes you think that you’re being overly paranoid, because you’re out here by yourself. It’s a completely new experience to you. The first time around, during your Games, the Career alliance lasted up until the very last second. You never had to keep an eye out for yourself, because you had others with you that were doing the same thing.

You were under the impression that you’d be doing that for these Games, too, but nothing has gone according to plan. You and Finnick had a long discussion the night of the interviews on what to expect regarding corralling Katniss and Peeta into the alliance. Neither of you thought it would be easy. Worst case scenario, you’d grab one and he’d get the other, and the two of you would meet up somewhere in the middle. 

The Gamemakers really must have it out for you this year, determined to keep you and Finnick apart. That’s why they decided to put you on the opposite side of the Cornucopia, keeping you from seeing Finnick. While also putting Brutus in your water wedge, to ensure that you wouldn’t be able to reach him.

By the time you fought off Brutus and got to the Cornucopia, all three of them were gone. The only option you had left was to wait for Johanna and Blight, but with them still in the water and the Careers coming to take over, you had to leave. There wasn’t a choice in the matter.

Since, you’ve spent your time traveling through the jungle and taking the occasional rest on the beach, in the hopes that you’ll run across your boyfriend. The search was casual yesterday, as you were more worried about finding drinking water than the rebel alliance. Now that the numbers are spiraling, you know that the rescue plan is right around the corner.

You’re confident enough to say that they won’t do it today, but it’s got to be tomorrow or the day after. They won’t have Katniss and Peeta openly in danger like this for longer than they have to. You likely have less than forty-eight hours to find them, or else you’ll get trapped in here and taken by the Capitol.

You would say that you wish you had a general idea on which direction they went in yesterday, but it probably won’t make much of a difference. With the amount of people dying in these trees, you’re sure Finnick is directing them the opposite way, just in case. 

It’s another reason why you can’t stand to be in the jungle for long periods of time. From what you’ve gathered, at least half of the tributes that have died today so far, have come from somewhere in the trees. It makes you think that something is out here, and it’s more than just a rogue tribute.

In fact, it would make more sense for it to be a mutt of some kind. In the last Quarter Quell, they were everywhere. There was not a single animal that a tribute could trust to be friendly. On top of that, there were aspects of the arena that took them by surprise. 

It appeared to be the most breathtaking place imaginable. The Cornucopia was in the middle of a vibrantly green meadow, the sky a perfect blue, with fluffy white clouds. In the distance, there was a snow capped mountain, one that looked straight out of a picture book. On the other side, a healthy forest with plants you couldn’t name.

Of course, it was all too good to be true. The mountain was revealed to be a deadly volcano, the plants were poisonous, the water was infected with a disease, the insects stung and the flowers could kill when inhaled too closely. Everything that was placed in that arena was working against them.

Who’s to say it’s not the same for this one?

You pause next to a nearby tree to rest your feet, because they’re throbbing in your shoes. You lift one, stretching your thigh, feeling the immediate relief that comes with being off the foot. After a minute, you switch, but it doesn’t feel as good this time around.

When you reach up to run a hand through your hair to smooth it back, you find that your scalp is wet, soaked from sweating so much. It feels much hotter today than it was yesterday, like the Gamemakers are trying to boil you alive. It’s brutal enough being in here, do they really need to make it any worse?

You dip your head, eyes closed while you take a deep breath, sighing it out. You return to walking, paying attention to where you place your feet.

It might make more sense for you to go down to the beach and wait for Finnick, Katniss and Peeta to show up. The issue is that you’re not willing to take the risk of the Careers spotting you while you’re down there. The four of them could easily get you pinned down. You’ll be dead before you can call for help.

A branch rustling behind you makes your next step stutter. Your eyes widen, as you slowly look across the fern in front of you, to the left of your vision. With sensitive ears, you adjust the spear in your hand, turning your body halfway to look behind you, at the tree you were just standing at.

There’s nothing.

You take a minute to search the trees around you, backtracking to get a better look. Even if it’s just a critter, you want to know. If there’s living animals out here, that means there’s a water source—and you won’t have to depend on your sponsors to keep you hydrated.

There’s not a trace. At least, that’s what you think, until your eyes catch the hoof print in the mud. Your face contorts, you drop into a crouch to get closer, curious on what could’ve made a mark like this. As far as your knowledge on the jungle goes, there shouldn’t be anything that could leave this behind.

The goosebumps that crawl up your arms are involuntary, stomach dropping. The safety blanket that the jungle had been providing seconds ago, is gone now. There’s something in here with you, and it was smart enough to run when it made noise.

You raise your head, thinking about the best way to handle this situation, when your heart seizes in your chest.

What the fuck is that.

In one fluid movement, you jump to your feet, turning in the direction of the beach, and beginning to sprint down the slope. A screech cuts through the previously quiet air, piercing your ears enough to make you wince at the pitch.

And then you can hear it galloping behind you, hands and feet pounding against the spongy jungle ground. A scream rises in your throat, terrified to look behind you to see how fast this thing actually is.

You take the chance when you swing around a tree, stealing a glance over your shoulder. 

Whatever it is, it’s demonic.

You’ve never seen anything like it. It’s coming at you on all fours, there’s hooves where its feet should be, with long and pointed nails on its fingers. Its fur is so black that you can’t make out where its eyes are, or if it has any skin exposed at all. It’s a beast straight out of one of your nightmares.

It isn’t fast by any means, but it’s not slow, either.

You can hear it tearing up a path behind you, trampling through the bushes, ripping bark off trees. As the path between the trees narrows, the jungle becomes more condensed. You hear less of it coming in contact with the ground, thumping replacing the noise.

Until it stops altogether.

Your instincts take over, jerking to the right, shoulder slamming into the tree. You watch in silence as the beast flies by where you were a second ago, claws out and ready to latch on. It comes into contact with the ground about ten feet away, head whipping unnaturally to see over its shoulder.

“No, no!” You let out, beginning to weave through the trees.

A snarl rips through its throat at the idea of you outsmarting it. It’s coming for you, and there’s nothing you can do besides run for your life and dodge it each time it tries to attack. 

You play this game for what feels like an hour, but it can’t be more than twenty minutes. You make it half a mile down the slope, knowing that the beach can’t be that far away from where you are, when you realize that it’s gone. The monster that has been chasing you has given up.

You lean over your knees, mouth watering, throat beginning to close. As you gasp for air, your body tries to expel some of the heat by making you sweat, but all that’s doing is making you sick. You think you might throw up. 

Right as you’ve come to terms with losing all the water and food in your body, spit falling from your mouth in long strings, a shadow on the ground grows larger. Your face twists, thinking that something must be falling, like a leaf.

It hits you, literally, flattening you against the ground, head hitting the dirt. It digs in, nails cutting through skin as it tears through your back and arms, shredding your jumpsuit. A scream leaves your lips, a white hot and blinding pain smothering you all at once.

Your hand tightens around the spear, cheek against Earth as the beast presses into your shoulders, keeping you from moving. Still, with the small amount of mobility you have, you swing the head of the spear up, toward yourself, narrowly missing your left  shoulder.

It lodges into the beast, causing it to roar in pain. You shove the pole further back, hoping that it pushes into its body deeper. The weight on your shoulders disappears, you can hear it stumbling away.

In the window you have, you get back to your feet, ignoring the screaming pain your entire backside is in. You just need to make it to the beach, it’s not that far away, you’ve covered this distance in your sleep before. It’s harder to do, though, when every hard step you take makes you grit your teeth to keep from crying out. 

The beast is catching up with you, recovering from its wound. It’s faster than you are, and it’s completely disregarding everything in its path. Nothing can slow it down. You can see the golden sand through the trees, you’re almost there.

A body jumps out from behind a bush, making you run into it. For a moment, you’re sure that it’s an exact replica of the monster behind you, but once you realize that you’re staring at another tribute jumpsuit, the panic subsides. But only for a second.

“Move!” You shriek, trying to get around him. He grabs the sides of your arms, holding you there.

You look up, finding that you’re standing face to face with the male tribute from Ten—someone who is not part of the rebel alliance, and doesn’t care whether or not you make it out alive. When you glance over your shoulder, you can see that the beast is getting closer. It’s not going to stop until it gets its hands on somebody.

And it won’t be you.

The only choice you have is to sacrifice him, so that’s exactly what you do. You jerk him around, switching places with him, forcing his back to the beast. His eyes widen, mouth opening to say something, when you pull back from him, lifting your leg to kick him in the chest.

The beast takes him gratefully, landing on his back. He stumbles forward, struggling under the weight of the beast. You watch in horror as its jaws unhinge, revealing razor sharp teeth. It throws its head back, before whipping forward, mouth securing around the tribute’s neck.

And with no resistance, he rips out a chunk of the flesh. A spray of blood hits you in the face, and it coats the jungle floor. You back away with wide eyes, watching as Ten’s legs can’t hold him up anymore, body collapsing in the dirt beneath the beast.

A cannon fires.

You turn, making the final push for the beach before it can come after you, too. 

The moment your feet hit the sand, it begins to drag you down, keeping you from running as far away as your mind is screaming for you to go. You make it a few feet before landing on your hands and knees, sucking in sharp breaths and letting them out aggressively. 

That was almost you. That could’ve been you.

You try to crawl, hands forming in fists in the sand, tears falling from your eyes.

“(Y/n)?” You hear. There’s a headache forming, black spots coming to eat away at the corners of your vision. “(Y/n), hey.”

A hand touching your lower back makes you swing a hand up to get them off. Your wrist is caught, eyes meeting Finnick’s, finding him worried. 

“You’re okay, honey. I’m right here.” He pulls at your elbow to make you sit up on your knees. 

You grab onto his shoulder, struggling to breathe, “It—it… The—” 

Finnick takes your hand placing it against his chest. “Follow me.” He takes a deep breath, you try to follow, stuttering. He blows it out, you sob. “Come on, (Y/n). Just keep breathing. In and out.” You mimic his breaths, allowing them to even out. “You’re doing great.”

“Finnick.” You cry, head falling forward.

He cups your face with both hands, lifting your head. He’s only a couple inches away from you. “You’re safe with me, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He wipes your tears away with his thumbs. “Do you want to tell me what’s in there?”

You look away, eyes too intense to stare into. “A monster.”

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

[milkinthemicrowave]

Hey, Doctor Doctor meaning

I made a song called Hey, Doctor Doctor, and it's blown up recently. Thing is, hundreds of people have left me comments confused about what the song means, so I decided to finally put the basic meaning in a text post. Here's a really good animation of the song!! So u can listen :)

Lyrics:

Hey, Doctor Doctor! Could you tell me what's wrong? I know you're very busy so I won't make this too long I got a question 'bout the rain The fog that just won't go away And something quite absurd That I just learned the other day

I asked my friend a simple question 'bout the rain But then they all went quiet and looked at me in a funny way They asked me what I meant So I described the time I spent Avoiding all the puddles Though I still got wet

They said that morning had been a sunny day I asked the folks around us and they all said the same I sat confused, in my wet socks and shoes I shrugged and said "That's right! The sky wasn't gray, it was blue!"

But doctor doctor It's been so very long Since I've last seen the sun It seems they must just all be wrong Unless it's me who's been confused Then why've my blue skies been refused? And hidden from me by my rainy days?

So... what does it mean????????????????????????

Hey, Doctor Doctor is a simple metaphor about depression. People have also interpreted it as being about the neurodivergent experience and a bunch of other things, and those fit too. But I intended it to be about depression. It's about finding out the things you're struggling with aren't just something everyone deals with. The protagonist (I'll call 'em Pot) has to actively dodge puddles to get anywhere and lives in soggy clothes. When Pot goes "man, that rain's insane right?" to their friend, the friend has no clue what they're talking about. To everyone else, it's sunny outside. They don't have to think twice about where they step. At this point, Pot looks insane to everyone else, like they're hallucinating rain. So, even though their clothes are still dripping wet, they go "yeah haha my bad. you're right, it's sunny outside". In the end, Pot goes to see Doctor Doctor about it. You know in cartoons or that one Ronald McDonald ad where the sad person has the little rain cloud over them? That's the idea. It was raining outside one day and I thought "lmao what if only I could see this, that would be insane". Then I wrote a song about it. I totally see the neurodivergent spin on it, because the part where everyone looks at Pot weird definitely accidentally came from my experiences with diagnosed autism. Sometimes my relatable comedy landed: me: "you ever wake up and your brain feels like sludge?" friend: "yeah bro, all the time"

But sometimes my relatable comedy didn't land: me: "you ever walk across the street without looking when you're having a bad day, like gambling?" friend: "...no???" me: "you don't???" friend: "no?? are you okay??" me: friend: me: "I mean I haven't done that in a long time-" (literally did it last week) Ah, the joys of being neurodivergent. Never knowing what's appropriate to say. "Horrified looks from everyone in the room". If this explanation seems too detailed, I really thought this song was a simple metaphor, so I'm REALLY trying to be clear. Most people get it, but there's still hundreds that have been taking it literally. If you read this far, I'm shocked. Nobody ever uses comments on tumblr, but I'd love it if you commented "umbrella" and let me know you read down here. Thank u immensely for reading this far. So, even though I have literally never talked about it on Tumblr before, and don't expect anyone to see this, that's what my song "Hey, Doctor Doctor" means.

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: gore, contemplated su*cide, more gore

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

so the big chapter is here… bentleys plan goes about as good as you’d expect

part forty-two

❝ REALITY CHECK ❞

SATURDAY — SEPTEMBER 12 — 8:01 PM

ONE THING BENTLEY HAD NEVER, EVER, EVER IMAGINED, IN HIS WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE, WAS FOR HIM TO ACTUALLY HAVE SUPERPOWERS AND ACTUALLY BE SUITED UP AS ROBIN. (But he was! And he did! And he had no idea what he was doing!)

It only took him about fifteen or twenty minutes to make it to the heat of battle with his water for transport. Most of downtown Gotham was a disaster. Everything was burning — literally, on fire, with flames licking out of piles of rubble that used to be buildings, and especially in the pitch black of night, everything was glowing. Two dozen buildings had to have been flattened, probably more — the destruction was moving and swirling in a circle around a tall, untouched building in central Gotham (the same one Asten tried to jump off of), which had a huge dome of fire on top of it. Bentley assumed that’s where he was. Every sound, the crackling of the fire, the crumbling of buildings, the shouting of metahumans — it all meshed together into one insanely loud, menacing rumble that never seemed to end.

Bentley stood (hovered) off to the side for a few moments, out of the radius of the chaos, kind of terrified. Firstly, Damian’s armor didn’t fit him right, especially on his arms and legs, so a nicely placed blow could probably knock it straight off. And his cape kept getting all in the way and whipping around, and while it looked cool, he wasn’t sure how much he liked it. (The answer was he didn’t. He didn’t like it.)

Secondly, he had no idea where anybody was. He was simply hovering on water a whole lot of feet in the air, high enough to be above the crumbling buildings, and he could hardly see down far enough through the smoke and fire to make out people on the ground. So he had no clue where his family or any metahumans were.

Thirdly… he was about to, like, fight people, for real. The only people he’d ever, quote-on-quote, fought, were Dick and Damian and occasionally Jason and Tim when they were training him in self-defense. Y’know, people without superpowers who weren’t actually trying to kill him.

But… there’s always a first patrol, right? Robin always had a first patrol. He just guessed this would be his. (He couldn’t back out now.)

As he drew ever-closer to the epicenter of the destruction (slower than Christmas, because he was pretty horrified), he turned his earpiece on so he could hear what everybody was saying. His line of sight was slowly getting clearer, so he was starting to see all the multicolored metahumans moving around on the ground through the smoke (and in the sky, in a few cases), with flashes of light and so many different… colors, and sounds, and things. He could see what he was pretty sure was Mandy Todryk flying through the air with her massive raven wings, and he knew exactly where The Void was due to the blinding flashes of purple. 

“Robin,” Bruce’s Batman voice came through his earpiece, gruff and serious and not happy sounding in the slightest. The tone was just sour and flat enough that Bentley knew he meant him and not the real Robin. “You are not permitted to be on the field.”

Bentley looked around from his spot in the sky, levitating on water, until he spotted the big black blob that was Bruce on the ground, fighting against a metahuman with blue hair. 

“Sorry, B! Please don’t be mad!” He replied shortly, his eyes darting every which way. Bentley wasn’t sure how good he’d do in an actual fight against any of these metahumans, but he was pretty sure he could help his family when they needed it. So that’s what he would focus on — helping them. When they needed it. “I just want to help!”

“You need to return to the cave immediately!”

Bentley cringed. “I’m sorry!” And then he clicked the earpiece back off.

Bentley didn’t have time for a lecture just then — he was too busy trying to figure out who the little figure was flying in repetitive circles around the giant glowing bubble of fire on the center building. It was a small person, with no wings or anything, and it only took another second for him to realize that… he was pretty sure it was… Nico, trying to get to Asten.

“I found him, Charlie!”

Bentley shouted in terror when someone grabbed him by the arms and violently ripped his feet out of the water that’d been holding him up. The beating of loud wings filled his ears — Mandy Todryk’s wings. 

She laughed maniacally, and Bentley nearly threw up on queue as he watched all of the destruction move under his feet. The feet in question were dangling uselessly hundreds of yards in the air, and the far-off ground was moving at least sixty or seventy miles per hour below him. “Let go of me!”

“You’re choice!” Mandy chided. She let go of Bentley and, before he could react any more than another shout of horror, dove down and grabbed him by his feet instead, so he was dangling upside down. His cape whipped around and covered his face, making it impossible to see. (Seriously, how did they wear those things?)

Bentley only narrowly missed slamming his head into the top of a building (that Mandy had to have dipped toward on purpose.) He couldn’t seem to think, couldn’t seem to breathe — the water he’d been standing on was following them, but he could only see half of the time and it wasn’t fast enough to catch up.

“Let’s test if little bluebirds can fly!” Mandy chorused, waving Bentley back and forth as she flew in a way that made him so very nauseous.

“It’s a Robin, loser!” Bentley looked up just enough to see a blob fly into his vision from the other direction, going at least the same speed as them. It and Mandy collided in the middle, and the little figure latched onto Mandy’s wings and jerked them with all of their might, twisting her entire body and sending her veering off-course like a broken plane. Bentley slid from her grip and was suddenly freefalling.

And then he was very suddenly not, but someone was holding onto his torso very, very tight. (Which also made him want to hurl.) 

“Jesus, your suit doesn’t even have blue on it,”

Bentley was only halfway breathing, watching the ground move what seemed to be miles beneath them, but much slower. “Nico?”

“Yeah, buddy, it’s me,”

They hovered around in the sky for a few moments before Nico found a suitable, not-falling-apart or burning rooftop to set Bentley down on. It was on the outskirts of the circle of destruction where Asten’s power hadn’t reached yet.

He sat Bentley down (mostly) on his feet, and the redhead immediately sat down on the tar rooftop, relieved to be on something solid again. He was sucking in air like he’d never breathed in his life. “I’ve only been here five minutes and I already want to hurl.”

Nico landed next to him, panting like he’d been running a marathon. His t-shirt and sweatpants were both soaked through with sweat, and his hair was a floppy wet mess, probably from flying so close to the fire. He held up three fingers. “Three times already.”

Bentley furrowed his brow, pushing himself off the rooftop and peering off the building at the destruction around them. “You’ve thrown up three times?”

“These powers are trying to kill me, I think,” Nico stated, waving Bentley off. “It’s fine. It happens every time I use them.”

“You can go to the cave if you need to,” Bentley replied, watching a few metahumans move around on the ground, a couple losing a fight pretty badly to who Bentley was pretty sure was Red Hood. “Have you been able to get to Asten?”

“Nope,” Nico started, drifting up by his side and peering off the edge of the building. “The dome thing he has going on is way too hot to get close to. Air only makes it hotter. But you know what definitely doesn’t make fire hotter?”

Bentley looked over at Nico, who had a dorky look on his face. “I have a pretty good idea.”

“Maybe you could get us in there so we can talk to him,”

Bentley looked over at the dome of flame that was spitting and spinning like some kind of lava. “I could try. It looks pretty hot, though.”

“It is insanely hot, yes,” Nico agreed. “But getting through it is pretty much our only way to him.”

Bentley nodded, peering over the edge of the rooftop toward the dome. He could feel the water sloshing and moving in the pipes below them, and not a second later, there was a small pop, and water began to seep from the cracks and crevices in the tar roofing and slither over toward his feet.

“That’ll never look normal,” Nico muttered, and Bentley shook his head as the water wrapped around his feet and began to lift him up. 

Get to the dome. Put water on the dome. Calm Asten down. A foolproof plan. (Mediocre at best, really.)

“Ready?”

With a heavy sigh, Nico shook his hands out by his sides and began to levitate. “As ever.”

Bentley looked at the ground below to find his family. It didn’t take long — Dick was the first he found, fighting hand-to-hand with a metahuman who kept throwing bolts of electricity at him. (It wasn’t the metal controlling guy, which was good.) Jason was still fighting a group of metahumans that were losing very badly. (No vines.) The Secret Keeper was standing on top of a turned-over car, doing nothing but watching and tugging on Davis and Titus’s collars every now and then. (Which meant she wasn’t with Tim or Bruce.) Damian was sword fighting a girl that had a sword made of green light coming out of her hand?

With an exhale, Bentley let the water carry him off the edge of the building and over the deafening chaos and destruction again. Buildings that hadn’t been touched yet were starting to fall now, the circle of terror was getting bigger. Bentley knelt down on the little surfboard-like oval of liquid and tried to focus really hard on the dome and not the war going on beneath him that was all his fault. All his fault. All his fault.

As he and Nico drew nearer to the dome of fire, the temperature raised exponentially, and a sound like a blowtorch grew ever-louder. It went from bearable to magma in a split second, and he still had to be at least half a soccer field away. 

Suddenly, a strange, shrill thunder-like noise sent them both whirling in the complete opposite direction of their objective. Bentley’s eyes darted around wildly, combing through the fire and rubble and fighting until he spotted a swirling purple portal high in the sky above them, in the center of the destruction with no buildings around it at all.

Not three seconds later, Damian fell out of it.

There weren’t any buildings for him to grapple to. At the bottom of the drop waited nothing but concrete and rubble and ash.

She wasn’t lying.

Bentley didn’t even hear his own shrill “No!” Before his instincts took over. And his first instinct was to absolutely throttle himself in that direction as fast as his water would let him move. 

By that direction, he meant toward the ground. Damian was far away, falling really fast, and the only way Bentley would be able to reach him was if he somehow went even faster. But closer to the ground meant closer to all the metahumans. And that meant…

That something really tight grabbed Bentley’s ankle before he could make it to Damian’s landing spot, ripping him off of the water with enough force to make his ankle pop and spike with pain. He only felt air for a split second before he hit the concrete and rubble, back-first, with a dull thud and an embarrassing noise.

With a groan at the sudden dull pain that was radiating through every bone of his body (had he really been that high?) he looked up (why was he seeing two of everything?) just enough to catch a glimpse of some gnarly looking, deep green vines wrapped around his ankle.

He didn’t even get to turn over before they pulled on him again. They drug him through the rubble and debris without remorse, scraping up his exposed skin and tugging at his Robin suit until the vines decided to pull him off the ground and dangle him in the air, upside down. (Again.)

He could see Damian falling. He could see buildings cracking. He could see a random, bright red fire hydrant, jutting out of the ground.

With as much power as he could muster (even with his whole body being in a state of pain, and being upside down, again.) he willed the water up and out with such force that the entire fire hydrant was ripped from the concrete and shot into the air with a dull thunk. 

Hundreds of gallons of water came spewing out, straight up into the night sky, and Bentley used them to make a massive pyramid-shaped cone of water what he was pretty sure was beneath Damian. 

But he didn’t have time to see if it worked. Instead, the vines around his ankle moved and crawled up his whole body in a split second, curling around him like ropes and tying his legs and arms down so they couldn’t move. The vines continued to move, to wrap around his face, his eyes, his mouth, like a blindfold and gag. He tried to make a sound, but all that came out with a muffled mmm.

“I’ve got the little runt, Charlie. He ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Said a guy’s voice, only a little ways away from Bentley. He could feel himself moving, but he couldn’t tell what direction. He couldn’t shout, couldn’t see, and couldn’t hear anything but roaring destruction.

He felt Damian moving in the water. But he couldn’t see it, which meant he didn’t know what it looked like, which meant he couldn’t imagine it doing something else, which meant his powers were pretty much useless. 

Amidst all the chaos, he heard something akin to a shnnk.

Three seconds later, there was a shout of pain, and the vines loosened around Bentley, sending him crashing onto the concrete again. Head first, of course, and so hard that for a minute, he couldn’t see anything but stars or hear anything but a skull-piercing ring.

A moment (or a few? He couldn’t tell.) later, someone pulled him until he was sitting up. They were talking, but he couldn’t hear good, and he was pretty sure it was Damian, but it looked more like two Damians. 

Finally, as his vision and hearing started to come back fully, he forced himself onto his feet with a groan. His ankle (the same ankle he’d hurt by jumping out the window last year, by the way.) gave out halfway and he fell forward into Damian, who was literally Robin, (which wasn’t embarrassing at all.)

(Yes, it was.)

(Being a superhero was so freaking hard.)

Thankfully, Damian didn’t do anything like shove him or scoff at him. Instead, he helped him stand, and as Bentley’s cognitive abilities returned, he realized that Damian was squinting at him through his domino lenses. “It is absolutely idiotic for you to be here.”

A beat passed. Bentley’s eyes flicked down to the bloody katana in Damian’s hand.

“I suppose I should not have expected anything less,” Damian muttered, and he brought his empty hand up and touched Bentley’s forehead, which twinged with a sharp pain. “Your head is bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” Bentley stated, looking back at the bloody sword, and Damian did, too. Bentley then scoured the nearby rubble for bodies, but the burning debris came up empty. There were no vines and no metahumans.

“I only cut some of his fingers off. Then The Void took him away,”

“Oh,” Bentley muttered, blinking twice. “…Thanks.”

“You kept me from hitting the ground. I believe we are even,” Damian replied. “You-“

Before he could speak again, a purple portal opened right over Damian’s head, and The Void fell out of it right on top of him, pinning him to the rubble below. Her purple hair was cut weirdly, shorter on one side like Damian had gotten it with his katana. “Got you, you little rat!”

In one quick movement that Bentley could barely comprehend, she ripped a batarang from Damian’s belt and lifted it over her head.

“No!”

In another quick movement that Bentley could hardly comprehend, a massive column of water flew over like a battering ram, whamming into The Void and literally sending her flying at least a few yards away from them. She kept the batarang dutifully clasped in her right hand until she stopped tumbling and settled in the debris.

“You’re a little nightmare!” She screeched. A portal appeared beneath her, and she fell into it and disappeared.

Bentley didn’t even have time to make it to Damian before a portal appeared right in his face, an arm came out, and something pinched Bentley’s chest. The portal disappeared.

It took him a solid five seconds to look down and realize what had happened. 

She’d stabbed him instead.

One half of the shiny batarang was protruding from the center of his abdomen, and his red suit was getting suspiciously redder. It didn’t even hurt that bad. Why didn’t it hurt that bad? It only felt like when Damian kicked him during a spar, but he could clearly see that half of the batarang was inside of him. He was stabbed. He’d been stabbed.

(Superheroing sucked!)

“Batman, Robin is compromised. I repeat, Robin is compromised,” He could’ve sworn that was Damain talking, but he couldn’t exactly hear right. His blood was pumping too loud.

He lifted a shaky hand and grabbed the batarang, jerking it out with a nearly inaudible whine. “It's okay. I’m okay.”

Bentley vaguely heard Damian giving Bruce a location, but he couldn’t hear very well over his own blood. Did blood have water in it? Bentley looked down at his own abdomen and focused really hard on the blood that was leaking out. Blood had water in it, didn’t it?

The bloodstain started getting smaller. Going away. Going… back in?

It was a strange sensation -- although, so was being stabbed -- that wasn’t exactly painful but definitely wasn’t comfortable. Bentley’s heart was pounding in his ears and he could hardly believe what was happening, even though it was literally happening.

“It… it's okay. I can keep myself from bleeding,”

Damian looked at him like he was stupid. “You have been stabbed in an area that houses many vital organs.”

In the distance, Bentley saw Batman coming.

If he went back to the cave now, they could still die.

What had he been doing? Trying to put out the dome of fire? To get in it, if possible? To stop this? To save his family?

He had to do this.

Water came up and around Bentley’s feet and picked him up, bloody batarang still in his hand.

“Don’t you dare,” Damian threatened, but Bentley was already off the ground and floating toward the dome.

…Sort of. His floating wasn’t all it used to be since he was having to focus so hard to keep his blood in his body. It was taking double the focus it usually took to keep himself in the air, and the punched feeling was starting to turn into searing pain, which made the focusing even worse.

Damian yelled. Bentley ignored it.

“You’re psychotic!”

Bentley turned until his eyes met Nico’s wide blue ones. He was flying down from the building with the dome, face panicked, gaze locked on Bentley’s abdomen. “You were stabbed!”

“I’ll be fine,” The redhead replied, floating past Nico at a glacial pace. “I just need to get to the dome.”

“I don’t think you’re comprehending the severity of this situation correctly. You were stabbed,”

“I know,”

“Stabbed,”

“I know!” Bentley replied, wincing at the pain caused by the effort. “I’ve been shot. That was worse.”

“You’re losing your mind!”

Bentley said nothing as he grew close to the dome of fire, the heat washing over him and making him feel ten times closer to dying. He held the batarang out just a little farther when he got as close as he dared. He had to be here to save them.

“You need to- wha… what are you doing? Oh, God, don’t tell me you’re…”

Bentley kept the batarang out there until it started to turn red hot (which took an alarmingly short amount of time, during which he was very thankful for the fireproof gloves.) and as soon as it was ready, he tore the Robin suit a little more at the hole and pressed the metal against his skin with no hesitation.

He wasn’t sure who screamed first — him or Nico.

Everything was a blur of white-hot agony, and for a second, he couldn’t see, the next second, someone was holding him under the armpits. The water wasn’t under him anymore. “Stop, no, no, I forbid you from passing out while we’re in the air. Absolutely forbid.”

A second (hour?) later, he was laid down on a rooftop. 

“Bentley, dude, buddy, stay awake. How do I work your earpiece? How can I talk to them without leaving you here?”

Bentley’s senses vaguely started to come back to him for a second time. “I’m okay.”

“Shut up,”

“I’m-“

“Shut up! Just tell me how to talk to your dad!” Nico ordered. His face was hovering above Bentley, along with a smoky, starry sky, but there were about three Nicos at the moment. 

“Am I bleeding?”

Nico looked down at Bentley’s stomach. “I-I… guess not, but-“

Bentley pushed himself upright.

And it was a horrendous idea. A wave of pain so absolutely devastating seared through his abdomen like he had gasoline for blood. It reverberated through every bone in his body, and the world went dark. He didn’t hear himself scream.

—

He wasn’t sure how long it was before he came to, but when he did, he was still on that rooftop, and Nico was crying next to him.

He blinked and let out a groggy groan.

“Bentley? God, dude, stop passing out! You’ve done it, like, five times!”

Bentley blinked some more. Five times? He’d woken up and passed out five different times and he couldn’t even remember it?

Everything was starting to feel like a mixture of pain, pain, and more pain. His whole body was sore from being thrown around, his head was throbbing, his stab wound was still blazing with a fiery agony, and he was really tired.

Nico sniffled. Bentley was pretty sure his head was on Nico’s lap, because his face was upside down and right over Bentley’s own. “Jason has been talking to Asten. I think the dome is cooling down a little bit, if you think you can-“

Someone thudded on the rooftop next to them.

“So close, yet so… far, Whittaker. You really thought you could change the future I put in place,”

Bentley pulled himself upright with a grunt of pain, just so he could get a good look at The Secret Keeper. She looked giddy as ever, her bright, excited amber eyes making her twisted stitched smile look even more twisted. She no longer had Davis and Titus with her.

“You’re so… naive. I show you one little lie and you move forward without question. You don’t understand, Bentley, that I control you,” The Secret Keeper held out her hand, and Bentley felt something in his mind change. He started to move, but his brain wasn’t telling him to move, her’s was. “It’s all been games until now. Watch what Bentley picks, it’ll be fun. But now is the time that I get to win.”

Bentley watched Nico’s eyes turn amber, and not a second later, his nose began to bleed. “I have dominion over everything. I can control you. I can control your thoughts. I can control your powers.”

Water started seeping out of the tar roofing of the building they were on without Bentley telling it to. It floated into the air in a stream, like a rope, and began tying itself in a knot. Bentley tried to say something but the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. She couldn’t just… control him like that. There was no way.

“I’m going to kill you… and then I’m going to kill everyone you love. I’m going to watch this city burn,” The water rope twisted and swirled itself into a noose. “And you’re not.”

As hard as Bentley tried to fight, he couldn’t. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t control the water. The noose came and went over his head, and then he walked to the ledge of the building even though he was telling his body to stop, even though his agony just got worse with every movement.

This could not be how it ended.

He was facing the building with the dome in the center, overlooking all of the destruction. He could see faint figures moving below. He saw The Void appear behind Damian and kick him in the head, sending him thudding into the rubble. He saw the guy with half-white-half-black hair shove Dick into some debris. He saw Tim and Bruce, back to back, with at least twelve metahumans around them. Duke and Steph and Cass were doing something similar with even more metahumans around them, far off.

The dome of fire flickered, then went away.

“Aw, pity. They were so close,” The Secret Keeper muttered, running a hand through Bentley’s hair from behind in a very creepy manner that he wasn’t allowed to move away from.

Asten and Jason were the only two on the center building’s rooftop, talking, but Bentley couldn’t hear them. Asten fell on his knees and more buildings shook, one in particular right next to them collapsing from the bottom up with plumes of smoke and a deafeningly loud crash.

The Secret Keeper’s breath brushed against Bentley’s face when she whispered: “Listen.”

Time seemed to move slower than normal, and Bentley could suddenly hear Asten and Jason even over the massive distance between them.

“-this out,” Was the tail end of Red Hood’s sentence that Bentley caught. Asten shook his head, his eyes still glowing a bright orange and overflowing with waves after waves of tears. 

“I-I can’t control it. I can't make it stop,”

“You can, I know you can,” Jason tried. He stepped forward and, ever so slowly, took off his helmet. “I believe in you.”

Asten’s eyes widened, but only for a second, because he flinched again when another building fell, looking off the roof. “I can’t. I can’t, Jason, I’m killing people.”

“You can,”

Asten’s eyes flicked up to Jason, and in one sharp movement, he jumped off of his knees and ripped one of Red Hood’s pistols out of a hip holster, pressing the barrel against his own blue hair.

“I’m murdering people and I can’t make it stop!” Asten shouted, a few violent sobs wracking his body. 

“Your death is not the answer. It’s never been the answer,” Jason shouted, moving closer, one hand out. “You’ve lost so much, but you still have so much to live for.”

“I’m killing people that have so much more to live for than that,” Asten replied, the gun shaking against his temple, tears streaming down his face. “I deserve it.”

“Asten, please, listen to me. I know how bad this world can hurt you, but giving up isn’t the answer. Kicking it's ass is,” Jason explained, stepping closer. “Please, give me the gun.”

Asten didn’t move. He just stood there.

“We’ll help you through this, but please… please don’t give up,” Jason moved his hand closer. “Give me the gun, kid.”

Instead of handing it over, Asten passed out. His eyes rolled back into his head, and the gun clattered on the rooftop. Thankfully, Jason managed to catch Asten before he hit.

“Poor little thing. It’s a real shame he won’t make it,”

Won't make it? The Secret Keeper was a dirty liar. How on earth would Asten not make it? His powers couldn’t kill him, could they?

Bentley watched Jason perform a few procedures that grew more and more frantic. Then he reached up and turned on his comm. “B, this kid isn’t breathing!”

And suddenly, Bentley couldn’t hear them anymore. All of the fire in the city died down, the destructive roar fading to a dull hum now that the source was gone. Everything seemed to still in a very eerie way, even the metahumans on the ground, who all looked around in confusion.

There Bentley was, stood on the edge of a building with a noose of water around his neck, and the Secret Keeper’s hands on his shoulders. Strangely numb, feeling rage and desperation and vengeance that he couldn’t display, not even in a scowl, because his body wasn’t his own. It was her’s.

“Forward,”

Bentley’s foot moved closer to the edge, tauntingly. He closed his eyes and focused hard on the Secret Keeper, but he couldn’t — he couldn’t sense her, or any water, or anything. He was blind.

“Go on,”

He stepped closer.

In the back of his mind, he heard something so softly he could’ve missed it. Something moving. Blood pumping. Bum, bum, bum, over and over, moving through veins. The Secret Keeper’s blood.

“Over the edge,”

Bentley, mustering up every tiny bit of willpower he had left, muttered through clenched teeth: “No.”

The Secret Keeper shoved him anyways.

Bentley wasn’t sure what he expected it to feel like, but he didn’t exactly expect it to feel like his whole head was going to explode. He very suddenly couldn’t breathe, and it was difficult to move his arms to try and tug at the noose. The whole thing spun around with him in it so he was facing the Secret Keeper, who was smiling maniacally. 

Bentley was about to die.

Bentley Whittaker was about to die.

With one last push of energy, he channeled everything he had into her. Every little drop of rage he could muster from anywhere in his mind, from the pesky nightmares, to this, to chasing Asten the first night, for tormenting his family — every ounce of raw emotion and power he could force his body to give, he focused it all on her, on the blood in her veins, for one last, final hoorah.

(If he was dying, he wasn’t doing it alone.)

The Secret Keeper doubled over and vomited crimson all over the rooftop. But Bentley kept pushing. He kept going until

it was pouring out of her nose, dripping from her ears, running from her eyes like tears. The world was getting darker. He could feel her heart pounding, pounding, pounding well over double or triple the speed it was supposed to, but he didn’t stop. She hit her knees and started screaming. Nico’s eyes turned blue again, and he fell unconscious behind her.

“You’re going to kill me!”

The screaming got loud and torturous then. Like someone was cutting her up piece by piece, as every once of blood was drained from her body, she screamed and she screamed and eventually… she stopped.

The water went slack, and Bentley started freefalling.

With whatever he had left, he formed a bubble of water beneath him that he could land in.

When he hit, everything was black. He couldn’t think. He was only just remembering how to breathe, and his head was throbbing like nothing he’d ever experienced. The water he landed in went slack around him and left him laying on a pile of wet rubble.

His body was in so much pain at the same time that it was so numb. He could feel everything and nothing, all at once. He felt that his stab wound had reopened, and was now pouring a warm liquid all over him that he didn’t have the willpower to stop. His neck was sore, maybe even bleeding, too. He couldn’t tell. He couldn’t really feel it. He wanted to yell for Bruce but he couldn’t.

“You killed her,”

Bentley peeled his eyes open just enough for a hazy, tilting, doubling picture of a metahuman to come into view. It was the guy with half-white-half-black hair. There were metahumans behind him, looking around strangely, like they didn’t know where they were. Was Charlie really dead? Did that mean the mind control wasn’t working anymore?

The rubble beneath him shifted, and a large, mangled piece of metal began floating out of it. 

“You killed Charlie,” The metahuman repeated. The mangled metal made it's way to Bentley, hovering in the air straight above him. “You’ll pay for that.”

Was the Secret Keeper really dead?

The mangled piece of metal was thrusted into Bentley’s chest with force so strong that he felt it hit the rubble on the other side.

It was only then that he realized, this was what she showed him. 

Him and Jason, in the lazarus pit, him dressed as Robin. Dead, impaled by a piece of metal debris.

This…

This was the reality where Bentley Whittaker died.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere @beatyoutothatusernameloser

[augment-techs]

prompts based on lines from fanfics that hit different after the tenth read

Slayer, Slayer, Monster Killer//Into the den//A blazing Inferno//Defender of the Innocent

Cauterize the wound.

Blood quickly began to fill the water.

Blue tint surrounding the lips.

He'd take jazz over a symphony, rock over jazz, and a crazy buscar in the tube station creating something insane with a violin, a beat box, and a pedal drum over rock.

I also wrote a gay version, if anyone wants it.

The thinness of the shoulder bothered him.

The curse was simple but badly done; convoluted and too mixed up with his own energies to be easily removed.

"Your parents are fucked up. I'm serious, that's Fucked Up."

With a coat like blood. Like cherries. Like candy.

"...Correction...I might be bleeding."

It was the best protection he could give.

"I can't believe you just called your own behavior petty harassment."

Cleaner than he'd been in eight months.

"Go curse somebody else. He doesn't belong to you--you can't have him."

Never had to initiate a virgin before.

The thought was idle.

Imagine if you will...

"The game is over. Do you understand?"

He was pissing blood.

"You asked for respect, I'm giving it to you."

Too tired and weak to fight properly.

"I haven't felt any strong emotions since I was a kid."

"What color is the sky right now?"

"So they will be the same age. So they can have adventures."

"I'm done keeping secrets for you."

"Sure. Why not take away the last thing I have left."

'Pretend.' It rattles in his brain.

No wonder people talked.

"Although this totally explains why you were in love with me like once a year for three years in a row."

"No, I do not have a scrunchie."

He'd never been brave enough.

"It's basically a game of sexual preferences."

It wasn't the personality serum, but it was some form of mind control.

It had been so goddamn long since they had heard any sort of tune at all.

"It's one of my grounding techniques."

"Please. Never say anything like that again."

He was also good at being randomly, devastatingly kind.

"I bet I could pick you up. Wanna see if I can?"

"I will not elaborate."

Carefully lit gym thirst traps.

He bit his fist, dried his eyes, and didn't make a sound.

"Because I am through with you. You aren't worth the effort."

Sees them glimpsed in mirrors and reflective surfaces; and the newest ones most often.

"Thanks for letting me feel alright for a bit."

It was homemade, and heavy, and hurt.

"You're not afraid?"

It was just as well.

"If I planted something on him there's a chance it could get lost."

"You're too good for me."

"Please. I don't want you to disappear again."

With an awkward, coltish sort of grace that makes her look decades younger than she is.

'Strange' is a family trait.

"Just want to rest with you. This is good."

"I shot my dad when I was fifteen."

Refreshing. Invigorating--where the fuck are these words coming from?

"Go find a nice ditch to crawl into and die there, not on our floor."

"I'm used to the cold, darling. Don't worry. There are worse things to endure."

"They gave us twenty dollars for nothing."

"Amazing, for once, your remarkable ability to repulse and horrify women saves the day."

"...Okay, okay, don't look at me like that; I'm a huge asshole. But not in that way."

"Like organizing your pornography collection."

"I just need some time. Right now, I don't know what I'm feeling."

They started it out like the leads in a bad B Movie.

"I said that about Jaws. That movie was terrible by the way."

"You're still my first choice."

Three years in the womb.

To be honest, they'd expected to die.

Looking back on it now he felt like the biggest idiot for not realizing what a huge Red Flag that had been.

"You want to come with us?"

"Back then I didn't even know about consent."

"If my dad ever comes back from his 'business trip' you kill him and we're even."

They have no idea what their Tragic Backstory is, so they make up a new one every time someone asks.

Don't want to train today? Too bad, you either fight the giant centipede or DIE.

"They ain't that bad compared to some of the shit I've eaten."

"I hate being brainwashed. And mind controlled. And sold, and handled without asking, and...being a thing for people to have."

"The research I took to find the gag I was thinking of was very uncomfortable. No, Google, I don't want BDSM gags, please stop giving me that option."

"I have a room and extra blankets. You'd probably fit into a few of my shirts, too."

"You're not trying to burn my apartment down?"

'Oh. Oh, it's going to kill me.'

"You refuse to take a shot at Adolf Hitler because you are not a murderer."

"Because she totally didn't punch that guy to defend your honor, and you totally didn't swoon."

It's a perfectly common ingredient in a lot of cultures! There's blood pudding, blood soup, blood tofu--that's a real thing and it's delicious.

"Did you just make them tell us about their sexual awakening?"

It's red berry jam. It's not really blood at all. They just call it that to make their kids think they're tough blood-eating warriors.

"Now stop having a crisis about being an eldritch abomination."

And that's exactly why broken bones are a testament to their mercy.

"I've been gone a long time, haven't I?"

Seems like a normal breakfast, right?

They are not friends. And yet.

"They're innocent. They never asked for any of this."

"I thought you loved me, but you're just like everyone else."

The candies are always gone within a day.

Backpacking across the end of the world.

"I should be worth, like, at least two goats. Or even one of those cute mini pigs, maybe."

"Apparently I'm from the past and you're from the future."

"Well, I drove an ice cream truck and didn't die."

The common areas became populated with candles, dishes of salt near the doorways, little piles of pennies in crevices.

The small bruise they expected to see is not small at all. It's huge and almost black and it's spread against the entirety of the left side of the stomach.

"You mean because you beat the shit outta me? Nah. I've got a pretty high tolerance for getting beat up. Seems like I just end up friends with them, even when I lose my S/O to them."

[writtenwyrm]

The Ascension

A Slay the Spire Story, Part 35

All Parts

Bargaining

I coughed, wet and sickly, and a lump of flesh spattered out onto the ground. It squirmed and stood up, two stubby feet supporting a blue, fleshy, toothy mouth. The monster wobbled for a minute and shook itself, spattering dark liquid all over. Then it hopped off into the darkness, leaving me alone in my corner once again.

There were spatters of muck all over me from the ugly little beast, and my feathers were disheveled and out of place. I resisted the urge to preen, however. The patches of empty skin were a grim reminder of what happened when I pulled too hard.

“What have you done?”

My Chosen. I glanced up, seeing them in the doorway. So small, compared to me, and yet so important. The leader of my entire church.

I didn’t want to say it. But I had to say something. Silence was worse than the truth, which was only occasionally worse than a lie. “I’m stuck.”

They stepped forward into the room, commanding just as much space as I did, looking around at my decorated sleeping chamber as if something in here might be the cause of my appearance. “Don’t give me that. You have total control over your shape. If you’re losing your feathers, it’s because you want to be useless. Are you really so selfish?”

I flinched, reminded of the people that depended on me. The people who needed my body to be healed. “No! No, I want to help them, I do!”

“Then stop being belligerent and take your true form again.”

I stared down at my Chosen, helpless to explain how hard I’d tried. I’d tried until I could hardly even breathe, until…

Well, I doubted it would go well if they saw the tiny, repulsive creatures I was coughing up.

I only had one idea. And I had to present it correctly, or… “Maybe… maybe I should go back. To the others. They might… they might know what’s wrong with me.”

I immediately knew I’d said it wrong. Something about the way they shifted under their cloak told me that the conversation was over.

“No. You are not like them. They are old, and you are new. You are something special… if you allow yourself to be. Now, I have delegates from the Gremlin Leader I must speak to.” They paced back toward the door, arms folded behind them. The slight edge of disgust told me what they thought of that. Then the tone turned toward me. “I’ll be back. I expect to see you back to normal when I return, but if you are not… well, you may still be of use, even in that sorry shape.”

The thought horrified me. What could they possibly find useful on me now? The thought of my ragged, dirty feathers going into elixirs for the sickly was disgusting. Surely they couldn’t hold the same power that they usually did.

Could they?

Alone again, I paced my room. The sound of my thundering heart in my ears drowned out everything else. Which was good, since the sound of my talons on the ground had been replaced with a slap-flap of meaty feet, and I didn’t want to hear that.

A sudden urge struck me to be in the sky. I had to fly again. How long had it been since I’d felt the wind under my wings? That I’d looked over the land from so far up that I couldn’t even see the individual trees?

Too long. Maybe some time in the air would help me return to normal. They wouldn’t understand, but I needed this.

So I didn’t tell them. Instead, I snuck through the rough-hewn corridors of the palace, searching for my window. The hole in the side of the Spire that was large enough to let me be free, on occasion.

I found it.

Bleakly, I stared at the boards nailed over it.

Had they done this? Why? They’d never forbidden me from flying, only hinted that there were better things to do with my time. And yet…

No. No, I needed out. I needed to fly. They would just have to understand.

I still wasn’t going to ask permission. No, I would beg forgiveness later. For now, I went to work with what was left of my beak.

It hurt, tearing the boards out. It hurt worse to give up the beak and grow a set of uneven teeth, moving further away from my intended shape. But the teeth worked better, and soon I could feel sunlight again.

I stood in the opening, basking in the warm sun. It calmed me, and I could feel my panic receding. This wasn’t the end of the world. I could figure this out, I’d be back in my normal form in no time. All I needed was a little time flying, first.

I leapt, stretching out my wings.

And then I fell like a rock.

At first, I was simply confused. I reached out, trying to cup the familiar sky with my wings and rise, and instead it flew past me, tearing feathers off with it in a vengeful flurry.

That’s when the panic returned.

I flapped, frantically, losing height with every second. I couldn’t fly, I couldn’t fly.

The last feathers still clinging to my stubby wings finally came free, leaving me naked and alone.

I plummeted.

The air whistled past, louder and louder, tearing off any remnants of my plumage and sending them scattered to the wind. No, no, I have to change. I have to get my feathers back.

Concentrating was difficult as I tumbled, but I closed my eyes, focusing on the familiar shape that I knew so well, the shape I’d been born as. Sapphire wings, powerful, all-encompassing. Muscles that beat and grasped the air, propelling me wherever I wanted to go.

The knife, approaching my face, wavering near my eye.

I screamed, flinching away from the image and losing my concentration immediately. The power I’d gathered bunched itself in my bones, looking for an escape, needing to be used. Uncontrolled, it surged through me, warping me, twisting my wings inward on myself. I felt my bones crunch in unnatural ways as my body searched instinctively for a form that would allow me to withstand a spire-long fall. A form, any form that could survive.

When I opened my eyes, the world was racing up to greet me

I hit the ground.

Everything shattered.

—

[QUERY] WAKE UP

[ANALYSIS] SYSTEM REST TIME is 98% COMPLETE

[ANALYSIS] SUFFICIENT REST ATTAINED. BEGINNING BOOT SEQUENCE

Slowly, the process of bootstrapping back into full functionality began. The body lifted itself to its feet, calculating each movement with careful precision.

[QUERY] FASTER

[ERROR] NOT a QUERY

[ACTION] ANALYZE PATH

[ANALYSIS] Path upward has average diameter of 4.5 meters rising at 3.2 degree slope. Stone walls depict tentacles and whorls along with standard bones and body parts.

[ANALYSIS] SAFE and EFFICIENT

[QUERY] NOT SAFE

[ANALYSIS] NO ACTIVE DANGER DETECTED

[QUERY] IDIOT

The body began to walk, resuming the trek back up toward the Beyond. It was within two days' journey of its goal. The journey still had a 2.7% chance of failure, but that was within reasonable parameters—

The stone tentacles whipped out, wrapping around the limbs of the body and holding firm.

[ANALYSIS] DANGER

[QUERY] <.blankquery>

[ACTION] BEGIN BATTLE RESOLUTION

[ACTION] BATTLE BOOT SEQUENCE

[ACTION] ACTIVATE HEATSINKS

[ACTION] SYNC SYMBIOITE

The body whirred into a flurry of individual motions, while the whole frame remained still. Armor plating slid into place, vents and pipes extended from the limbs, and the fingers flicked into sharpened claws.

The fusion battery hummed into life, and a space in the air was torn open, allowing a drop of pure plasma to form. It was linked with the body, feeding a cycle of energy in and out of the core. There was leakage with the core damaged as it was, but it was manageable, even useful, lightning sparking through the air to join the plasma in its orbit.

Finally, the body siphoned power from the virus that had taken up residence within it. A third rent opened in the air, filling with purple-tinged shadow that made no noise at all.

None of that stopped the tentacles from tightening their grip.

[ANALYSIS] DANGER on ALL SIDES

[ACTION] SWEEPING BEAM

The large lense lit up, and a sharp light shot forth, arcing across the room and carving a line through the walls. But the restraints kept the beam from doing any real damage to the powerful tentacles rising from the floor.

[ACTION] ELECTRODYNAMICS

Lightning sparked, orbs flickering into being and filling the open spaces that the Runic Capacitor automatically created. Thunder cracked as bolts struck out, all of them focused on a single enormous tentacle.

[QUERY] FAILURE of ELECTRODYNAMICS

[ANALYSIS] Enemy tentacle acts as a lightning rod, protecting the mass.

[QUERY] DO BETTER NEXT TIME

[ERROR] NOT A QUERY

The tentacle attacked.

Bronze screeched and connections twisted as it pounded down on the body, bending the frame despite its reinforcements. The right arm was dented heavily, and a few flakes of crystal fell from the already-cracked core.

Again and again, the destruction of the body had come to pass. Two-hundred and thirteen times, the body had rebooted at the base of the Spire, miles from its destination, and yet whole. Somewhat.

And yet one thing had not changed in all that time.

I didn’t want to die.

I struck. Through the channel the virus had made between me and the body, the one it used to siphon the void. Through that weakness I pushed, attempting to make a connection, all while throwing as many queries as possible toward the body.

[QUERY] IS THIS SENTENCE FALSE

[QUERY] HOW MUCH SPHERE COULD A SPHERIC GUARDIAN GUARD IF A SPHERIC GUARDIAN COULD GUARD SPHERE

[QUERY] IS CLAW GOOD HERE

A slurry of nonsensical questions, attempting to distract and disorient the body, keep it on edge. That was dangerous when it was already in the process of being crushed, but the danger was a part of the plan, something to keep it from shutting me down immediately.

[ANALYSIS] USE of CLAW

[ERROR] CLAW is INEFFICIENT

[ANALYSIS] GUARDING of SPHERE

[ERROR] DEFINE SPHERE

[ANALYSIS] SENTENCE is FALSE

[ERROR] SENTENCE IS TRUE

[ERROR] SENTENCE IS FALSE

[ERROR] ERROR

Suddenly, I broke through.

My sensory scope expanded into the body, and all of a sudden it was mine again. I flexed my fingers, the sensation of innumerable commands of code and calculation so fluid and simple, run by subsystems of hand and arm so I didn’t need to take time thinking about each twitch of my thumb.

But the autopilot was still here, attempting to reassert control, so I began to create new systems.

It was the great strength of sentients. The power to condense, repeat, offload thinking and acting to subsystems running under the main mind. The same ability that allowed me to think of picking up a crystal, and for my body to follow through with a thousand tiny motions to move my arm, stretch my fingers, squeeze the edges of the object and raise it into the air. The creatures of flesh and bone that lived in the great city below were more like me than they ever suspected. Both I and them ran systems of repetition and habit and instinct, no matter that they ran on hardware of flesh and blood and I on crystal and bronze. Truly, we all carried lightning in our cores.

I held two great advantages.

One, as a Divine Machine, I had a greater connection with the Beyond. I understood it on a level that few mortals did, and could even draw on its power if required. The false made real, and faith made blades.

Two, I could reach into myself and edit.

My focus was split on two turfs. Inner, as my autopilot fought to remove what it saw as a rogue force, and outer, as the tentacle continued to squeeze me into scrap. My lenses focused in and out wildly as my autopilot found a loose end and attempted to zoom my vision, making it harder to keep track of the tentacles. It was time to even the odds.

[QUERY] ENERGY FOR OPTIMAL STRATEGY

[ANALYSIS] POWER at 73% MAXIMUM

[ANALYSIS] SUFFICIENT

[ACTION] DOUBLE ENERGY

[ACTION] SKIM

My core flared, the temporary boost giving me the power to search quickly through my many, many systems, searching for the one that was just a little different…

There.

[COMMAND] REPEAT

[ERROR] REPEAT NOT DEFINED

[DEFINE] REPEAT

[REPEAT]

to happen again

[FUNCTION] REPEAT INITIAL ACTION

[FUNCTION] OFFLOAD REPETITION TO AUTOMATIC SUBDRIVES

[ACTION] ECHO FORM

A figure appeared, overlapping my own form. When I moved, it followed, sharp-edged and transparent.

Now it was fair.

Time to make it unfair. In my favor.

I hunkered down in my body as the tentacles tightened on my limbs. Now that I had settled into an equilibrium, however, it was much easier to resist their monstrous strength. Digging deep, I was pleased to find that the algorithm I’d planted near the beginning of this iteration had grown into a formidable, adaptive defense program, so I threw that up too, allowing the program to adjust my limbs on a millimeter scale, maximizing the force I could withstand.

With all that together, I was prepared when the tentacle slammed down again, attempting to swat me like a fly.

[ACTION] BLOCK

One arm flew up, meeting the tentacle in the middle with enough momentum to deaden the attack, precisely calculated by programs I wasn’t even consciously aware of to prevent recoil damage to my arm.

Moments after the impact, my feet swiveled like wild louses, nearly throwing me off balance. The attempts of my autopilot to reassert control were too pressing to ignore any longer. I reached inside and focused, looking for the Rift.

I found it easily. Like a chasm, it opened a void in my mind, a great, unidentifiable gap of corrupted memories and loose code. In my mind, it felt like a manifestation of the true rift–the crack in my core.

The Autopilot sat on the other side of that rift, where I’d been living up until now. The channel I’d used was still open, and it was frantically attempting to snatch control of anything left unattended.

Carefully, I reached out and grabbed a few loose ends of code. Fragments of memory ran through my core as I mentally touched them, images of enemies I’d fought, locations I’d seen. Nothing I could remember clearly, but close enough that I was able to put them together like puzzle pieces.

[ACTION] DEFRAGMENT

My Echo followed moments behind, grabbing more memories and placing them in appropriate places. If it had been just an imitation of myself, it would have attempted to repeat my actions exactly, and been useless. But the touch of the Beyond gave it a spark of true life and the capacity to follow my intent, not just what I did.

As the pieces fell into place, it sealed my Autopilot away on the other side of the Rift. Now that it was taking up less of my focus and power, I could afford to give more to the multiple orbs that orbited around me. My processing cooled as I calmed down, panic turning into confidence as my strength grew. Ice crept over my core as the inner machinations of my core were made manifest in a more literal sense. In a few past iterations I’d let my core freeze over entirely, but the benefits would be minimal here. Instead, I used the ice, shoving it into a slot for use as more protection.

I was out of slots, so the plasma flashed and expended the rest of its energy in a burst as the ice replaced it. I captured the excess energy and pulled it in, using it to charge my core. It overcharged my battery, and I could feel myself crackling with power waiting to be used.

[COMMAND] REPEAT

[ACTION] HOLOGRAM

And then I did it again, a flickering double–not dissimilar to my Echo Form–using the rest of my energy to shove even more power into my core battery. The overflow snapped with static, warding off the next tentative blow from my enemy.

This time, I curled my fingers into a fist, and punched back.

[ACTION] COMPILE DRIVER

A moment later my translucent copy did the same, driving the enemy back and giving myself space to act.

The shadow orb had been drawing power this entire time, but it was slow going, even with the increased power afforded to it. As it was, it would hardly put a dent in the creature before me.

Of course, nothing said I only had to use it once.

[COMMAND] REPEAT

[ACTION] MULTICAST

I copied the active state of the void orb, then lobbed it through the air at the stony tentacle. Where it touched, it left nothing behind, passing through the flesh of the creature like an eraser.

Then I pasted the active state and threw the orb again.

And again.

And again.

By the time I was out of energy, the spire growth was a twitching mass that contained just as many holes as it did flesh. The tentacles around my body fell limp, allowing me to move freely again.

[QUERY] STATUS of ENEMY

[ANALYSIS] Major connectors severed, motion ceasing, profuse fluid leakage.

[ANALYSIS] DEAD

[ACTION] BATTLE MODE OFF

I welcomed the clone back inside, absorbed the data from the fight, and then deleted it. There was a pang of uncertainty from us both about that last part, but I couldn’t carry it around with me forever, straining my core.

It would be back. Not the same copy, not the same me. But it always came back. And I wouldn’t keep it trapped in my core while I controlled the body. I had too many memories of that, and often I wondered if it would be better to cease to exist than continue to experience it. My copy, at least, didn’t have to wonder.

Bound to just thinking, watching my body act on its own. Wanting, wishing, and yet unable to even do something as simple as reach out my hand.

Now that my autopilot was locked away, I could keep it there indefinitely.

Except… I wouldn’t.

I knew I wouldn’t, because I had let it free in the first place. Again and again, I had broken through, reasserted control.

Again and again, I had grown weary.

It always started small. Allowing the autopilot through to take command of my walking on long journeys, or giving it control enough to purge a louse infestation when I couldn’t be bothered. But it would grow, and grow, and I would use it for every little thing, lighting fires, fighting monsters, arranging relics.

By the time I realized I couldn’t take back control, it was too late. And more often than not, I didn’t care. It was simpler, letting it walk for me, live for me.

Easier.

My entire life was built around repetition and recursion. From the smallest of actions to the hundreds of iterations I had lived through.

Perhaps this time, I had the opportunity to change that. My situation was rare, even among the many times I had been recreated to ascend the Spire. I couldn’t remove my autopilot, it was too tied up with the foundations of my body and mind, and attempting to delete that would be like removing a mortal’s nervous system.

But perhaps I could purge the habits that brought me back to it again and again.

Once again, I reached inside and searched. Now that I was free, I could take my time, and I searched until I found the connections that I was searching for. There was just one problem.

It was a part of me, and it didn’t want to be purged.

It’s pointless. The piece whispered to me. You’ll never make meaningful change, not for long. It’ll all be back next time we die. You can’t be rid of me, because I’m you.

I chased the recursive commands through my system, isolating one chunk of my mind at a time to corner it, quarantining the corrupting code in smaller and smaller spaces until finally—

The virus would serve one more purpose today. While I was in control, the malicious entity was barely a hassle to manipulate. Compared to my sophisticated systems, it was hardly more than a spider before the boot.

But instead of squashing it, I cracked it open, and allowed my darkness to flow into it. Then I sealed it up again.

Normally, that would have been the best I could have done. The caged code wasn’t so much physical as metaphorical, and it would remain locked in the back of my mind until it found a way to break free, as it always did.

But here in the Beyond, metaphor was as strong as steel.

I held out my hands, willing the virus to appear in my cupped claws. It flickered into being, dark, warping the space around it.

[ACTION] SUNDER

It fell away from me, torn free. Given physical shape, the virus coalesced into a smaller, shaper, more familiar form. A blue arrowhead. A key.

[QUERY] NEAREST RECEPTACLE

[ANALYSIS] ABANDONED CHEST 103 PACES NORTHEAST

I placed my darkness within the chest, and then closed it with a snap, sealing it away.

Perhaps it would come back. Perhaps it would grow again from the many habits I’d collected. Perhaps someday I would fall back into the darkness and allow my autopilot to take over again.

But for now, I was free. It was like a dream.

I began to wake up.

The walls shivered indistinctly around me, fading into nothingness, and the world began to collapse. Lightning sparked over my limbs, orbs channeled from the sudden fear that rose in my core. No, no, no!

I didn’t want to go back, I didn’t want to be trapped. Bound in my own body, prisoner to the whims of another. I wouldn’t go back, I wouldn’t be silenced anymore, I—

—-

I woke to someone strangling me.

I tried to scream, but only the faintest wheeze escaped. Desperate, I slammed into Wrath faster than I thought possible, and arched my body like a bucking ox in an attempt to throw my attacker free.

They matched me, strength for strength.

My staff, where was my staff? It was right next to me when I fell asleep, I had to be able to reach it. Unless they’d moved it before attacking me, unless they’d stolen it.

I tried to scrabble about my head to find it, but my hands weren’t responding. Was I tied up? How many attackers were there? My hands—

My hands were around my own throat.

I let go with a gasp, filling my lungs and letting the Wrath surge out of me in a yell of terror and confusion and anger. It left me all at once and I fell limp, feeling empty, heaving great deep breaths of the cold spire air.

“Bad dream?” An irritatingly familiar voice said, with mild sympathy.

I turned my head, and there he was. Crosslegged on his colorful rug, the Merchant grinned at me like a clown. Or at least his mask did.

“You did this to me.” I accused. The empty feeling was rapidly refilling with rage. “You gave me that prism. Did you know? How the hells did you get up here? I had all the keys!”

“I think,” he said, without answering my question, “It might be time for some explanation of what’s going on.”

That was enough reason for me to sit up and pay attention.

“But first,” The Merchant said, cheerfully, “Would you like some meatballs?” He held up the pot.

Begrudgingly, I accepted a bowl.

“It’s her.” He said as I ate. “Neow.”

I nodded, thinking back to when I woke up next to her. She had acted as if she had simply been there to greet me, or welcome me to the Spire, but thinking back… it was too perfect. She was a part of this.

“She’s an Ancient. One of the last.” He confirmed. “The Ancient of Resurrection, to be precise. Or so she calls herself. It seems no one had seen her before all… this. I woke up there too, with no memory of who I’d been before. She wanted me to… to bring someone back. Another Ancient.” A piece of gold rolled over his knuckles, and I wondered who taught him that. “I suspect it was the Phoenix. It seems as if it was much beloved, judging from its zealous worshippers. Or maybe she killed the Phoenix, and now wants to finish the job with the rest of the Spire. I don’t know.”

“Why haven’t we just… stopped? I had several people in the city offer to let me stay with them. We could leave this all behind. Why play their games?” A trickle of Wrath made its way into my voice, and I let it.

“The Time Eater. It continually attempts to reset the Spire back to what it was before the war, but it can’t return slain Ancients to life, and its power isn’t perfect. It doesn’t catch everything that happens in the Spire.”

He sighed. “They know something is wrong, but they can’t figure out what. For them, it’s as if only days have passed, and yet their grand city has fallen into ruin, and is now under the control of the slavers and gremlins. And when we remain with them… we see it happen. The Time Eater’s power doesn’t work on us. Any friends we make…”

“We have to watch them forget.” I finished.

I thought of Liss. And the the Merchant, who, despite his words, was staying behind to watch it happen again.

“Frankly, we may not even be real.” He said. “Simply… memories of warriors gone before. Or merchants, as the case may be. Memories… or dreams.”

The sudden image of a cultist in ragged feathers imposed itself on my mind, the half-mad creature lurching at me with panic in his voice.

How long will you dream?

My skin crawled with the memory of that encounter in the Exordium.

“Why?” There was more pleading in my voice than I was comfortable with, but I had to know.

He only shrugged. “She hates it. The Heart. You can feel it too, can’t you? Deep in your bones, the hatred we all carry for it? We all know it, and it pulls us upward, even if we don’t remember why.”

I did. I remembered how strong it had been in the presence of the wet, thundering ball of flesh, how much I’d wanted to destroy it. And yet, was that my hatred, or something she’d imparted on me?

“So all we have to do is kill it, and we’ll be free. She won’t have any need for us then.” I tightened my grip on my staff. I’d already seen it bleed. Now I just had to finish the job.

“No.” The Merchant was quiet. “We’ve killed it before. It’s not easy, but we’ve all managed it. Even you. It frees us for a while, and the Spire sleeps. And yet, we’re still here. Still fighting. Still dying.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes while that sank in.

I set my empty bowl down, then got to my feet and looked ahead at the dark tunnel. My path to the Heart.

“I have to try.”

The Merchant nodded, and I could hear the sad smile behind his mask. “We always do.”

[lubdubsworld]

Akrasia.

Happy Birthday To the Golden Maknae.

Here’s a little treat in lieu of Jungkook’s 24th Birthday!!!

Canon Compliant. 

Jungkook x OC

Word Count : 10K. 

Genre : Mild Angst. ( Happy'Ending) Jungkook X OC

Akrasia (noun) 

PHILOSOPHY    the state of mind in which someone acts against their better judgement through weakness of will.

 Getting involved with someone like Jungkook is a bad idea. Do you even realize who he is? How much he’s worth? He’s easily one of the richest men in the country . He’s loved by everyone.

I wrapped the coat around myself, tighter. Everything that Lee Jiae had said was true. She was a popular idol . Someone who would actually make a good match for the Jeon Jungkook.

But even Jiae balked at the idea of going anywhere near someone like him.

Career suicide, she had said firmly. That would be career suicide, Areum. He has fangirls from all over the world. Billions of them. They will dig so deep into my past, find the most innocent of things and twist and turn it and the next thing I know, I’m being kicked out of my band, out of the company and on the streets. I don’t want that. And neither should you.

I shivered a bit. No, I thought honestly. I didn’t want that either. I was far from successful, just an up and coming soloist , with a very very niche fanbase. I did sell a lot of records and I made enough money to live comfortably but I was not a mainstream celebrity. I didn’t register on people’s radar because I stayed far away from the spotlight.

There was something about social media that made it a terrifying thing to me. It was so abstract and unreal and yet…it seemed almost like a sentient being.

A powerful sentient being that could potentially destroy my whole life.

It scared me.

And while Jungkook and BTS had conquered that particular monster, had leashed and saddled the beast and made it their own personal pet…. I didn’t want anything to do with that.

I don’t want that, I told myself firmly. I really don’t want that. I want to stay this way… make music I love… read the few dozen fan handwritten fan letters I received everyday, make the occasional appearance on a magazine cover and then just quietly retreat into my studio. I want this. And if I go anywhere near Jeon Jungkook, I’ll lose this. I’ll lose all of this.

My phone buzzed and I jumped, glancing around nervously. The late October wind was cold but not biting. Winter would come but not for a while. And yet my skin chilled in apprehension. I always felt guilty, picking up one of his calls in public. It felt like I was being watched, like everyone could hear me, on the phone …Could hear who I was talking to.

“Hello.” I whispered nervously, eyes flitting around to find a secluded spot in the park. It was early in the morning, still an hour away from sunrise and I quickly hopped over a small hedgerow and moved into a wooded area, away from the main path that had the occasional cyclist or jogger.

“You didn’t come.” His voice was honey, the way it dripped into my senses and made my breath catch. And yet it was the undercurrent of disappointment that tugged at my heart. Made guilt churn inside me in rapid little currents.

“Yes. Sorry.” I said quietly, picking my way past a few bushes to a bench a little way into the woods. It was rusty and damp because no one came here , and the darkness was absolute, only faintly broken by the dim glow of the streetlights hundred yards away. I settled into the bench nonetheless.

“Areum…. Don’t do this to me.” Jungkook said brokenly and I exhaled.

“I’m not doing anything. I’m being smart. And you should be too. You’re romanticizing something that was just…it was just a conversation. We had a conversation . That’s all that happened.” I said desperately. It was something I’d told myself over an over, these past few weeks. Weeks of avoiding his texts, of ignoring his calls.

Calls from his hyungdeul.

That had given me a whole heart attack.

“You’re just going to ignore me then? Toss my feelings away like they don’t matter?” He asked quietly and my heart clenched.

“You …” I shook my head.” You need to understand something. I’m not going to do this. I can’t afford to. I told you already Jungkook…we spent one evening talking..that’s it…we’re not dating..we don’t know each other well enough for you to be saying that you have feelings for me-“

“And I told you I don’t fucking care. “ He said sharply. “ One day… One hour…who cares? I believe in soulmates. Call me foolish and dumb but I do and when I saw you I felt that. And I know you felt it too.”

My mind flashed back to that evening. It was a private birthday party for a mutual friend. Barely a dozen of us had attended and Jungkook had been sneaking glances at me all evening, completely oblivious to the ay every woman in the room had their gaze glued on him. The party hadn’t been my thing at all and I’d sneaked away to the private terrace, accessible only through a rickety old fire escape and to my utter shock he had followed me up there.

The stars had been exceptionally bright that night,  but with Jungkook sitting on the tiled roof next to me, gazing at me with all that adoration, his doe  eyes had seemed to hold more of them than the night sky.

“What do you want, Jungkook?” I asked quietly.

“I want you. I know you want me. We …we understand each other. I want the same things you do. Do you even fucking realize how rare that is? To find someone who shares the same thoughts, the same dreams as you do? Who looks at the world the way you do… I… I am not foolish enough to think that there’s another girl out there who could connect to me the way you do. You call that a conversation…just a conversation…. Did you forget what kind of a conversation it was?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three weeks ago  

The party had barely started and I was already itching to run home. There was a particular song lyric , stuck in my head like a loop and I wanted to put it on paper as soon as possible. I had this thing where seeing something on print helped me to elaborate on an idea. Directed my train of thought in that particular direction if you willed.

Mingyu was walking around, talking to his friends and making them laugh with his witty banter but I didn’t miss the way he shot me little glances. I gave him a quick thumbs up though, to let him know I was okay. He was a childhood friend, one of the few people I’d stayed in touch with through the years. And of course, being in the same industry meant a lot of shared interests.

I moved to the side bar with the drinks and appetizers, ordering myself a diet coke before hopping onto one of the stools. I watched the dozen or so people here….His bandmates, some other idols. I recognized Yugyeom from GOT7. They were all dressed in dressy casuals : flashy shirts and tight jeans and racy little dresses and I felt out of place in my long jean skirt and tasseled leather jacket.

Sighing, I turned back to my drink when a commotion near the door made me look up.

I felt my eyes widen when I saw who it was.

The Jeon Jungkook. From BTS.

I stared at him as did pretty much every person in the room.  Jungkook was easily one of the most handsome men I’d ever seen in my life, tall and just…big. I stared at the broad shoulders, the huge arms and the taut line of his abdomen, tapering into a narrow waist and long, long legs with muscular thighs. He was wearing a black shirt, unbuttoned all the way to his chest and skinny blue jeans with black boots.

I smiled, genuinely awed. Jungkook looked every bit like the untouchable superstar he was and I considered that the party hadn’t been a waste after all. The chances of me running into someone like that in person were pretty slim.

Almost at once he was surrounded and I watched as his ears turned red, gaze shifting away and an almost soft shyness in the way he bowed politely . A hesitation to be put on the spot but also a need to stay polite , probably. Laughing a bit , I watched him some more and then his gaze lifted to mine. To my surprise, his eyes went wide in what was clearly recognition.

What.

I watched as he quickly bowed and said something to the people around him before picking his way to me. My entire body went taut with surprise.

“Lee Areum ssi…” He stuttered, eyes wide and I could only gape. “ I’m a huge fan.”

I blinked.

What.

What.

“You know who I am?” I asked , mildly horrified and he laughed nervously, shaking his head and rubbing the back of his palm across his nose before laughing a little.

“Your voice is just… something about your songs…they help me sleep when I’m too exhausted to relax.” He said softly and I felt warmth pool inside me.

“Too exhausted too sleep. That doesn’t sounf good...”

Jungkook chuckled.

“Its not. It usually happens when we’re preparing for a comeback. It different with concerts you know…we’re exhausted because we’ve been running around …singing…its all physical…mostly. And that’s easy to brush aside and sleep. But comebacks…there’s that nervousness. The worry that things may not be as good as they were. Constantly having to keep up to standards. “ He shook his head. “ it can get exhausting.”

It was something deep and oddly tragic and I was stunned that he’d shared something so… personal. To a literal stranger. But the urge to soothe..to comfort and reassure him in some way was over powering.

Instinctively, I leaned closer and lightly touched his forearm .

“But you are the standard, now, Jungkook ssi. What BTS has done, others can only dream of reaching. You’ve brought this….utopian idea that you can love yourself just the way you are… and that’s amazing. I understand the need to meet expectation but I think you’ve earned the right to sleep without being burdened by them.”

Jungkook didn’t reply, staring into my eyes and I felt my pulse kick up a notch, my eyes taking in the beautiful features and my throat went dry when his gaze dropped to where my fingers lightly brushed the soft fabric of his shirt sleeve.  

“Oppa…Let’s dance.” A shrill voice behind him made us both jump and I quickly pulled my hand away. Panicking, I turned away from him fully, ducking my head so my hair could cover my face. There was a dull roaring in my head, making it hard to hear what he was saying but a second later he moved away from the bar and I exhaled sharply.

Shaking I turned back to my drink.

Another twenty minutes of trying to avoid looking at Jungkook, I gave up. This wasn’t my kind of place at all and after a quick word with Mingyu, I moved to the small balcony in the side, desperate for some fresh air. But the moment I stepped out, my eyes fell on the rickety ladder like stairs, rusty and clearly a death trap. I quickly moved to the ledge and peered up at the roof. It was a little inclined but nothing dangerous. And there was a barricade that would break my fall, just in case I slipped.

Thrilled at the prospect of doing something that was both foolish and fancy free, I quickly, climbed on to the ladder, climbing all the way over to the top and throwing my legs over the iron railing before carefully walking overt to the center of the roof. Grinning to myself, I settled on the slightly damp tiles.

“You’re lucky the ladder didn’t break .” Jungkook’s voice made me yelp and I stared as he quickly jumped over the railing himself, grinning and wiping his hands on his thighs.

“Oh my god, people are going to find us here!” I hissed, terrified and he laughed.

“Don’t worry. I told them I’m going home.”

“You lied?” I shook my head in disbelief and Jungkook hummed.

“Did I?” He pretended to think. “ Doesn’t feel like I did.”

It took me a few seconds for the implication to sink in.

I looked away, blushing a bit.

“Did I come on too strong?” He moved to sit next to me, just a foot away.

I shook my head.

“No. I’m just.. I didn’t expect you to know me. We don’t exactly run in the same circles.”

“There’s a very cliché line in my head about how you’ve been running in circles in my head for a long time but I’ll save that for our first date.” He said with a laugh and I blushed deeper.

“Date?” I shook my head, “ That’s not funny.”

“Good. Because it wasn’t a joke. Let me take you out to dinner sometime.”

I stared at him, trying to look for the punchline because even if he denied it, it was still laughable. The mere idea of it.

“Don’t turn me down Areum ssi.” He said softly and I swallowed.

“I won’t if you take it back.” I said quietly.

He sighed.

“Then…when you sang about wanting to give love a chance…wanting to free fall for once without worrying about the rocks at the bottom of the cliff, wanting to soar into the sky without thinking of the ropes trying to tether you to the ground….were you joking?”

I gaped at him.

“that’s.. those are… Those are lines from before my debut.” I said shakily.

“Like I said… I’ve been a fan for a long time.” Jungkook whispered.

The night was magical. Cool and refreshing and the night sky was resplendent, the lack of clouds offering a stellar view of the stars and yet, I found myself drawn to the galaxies swirling in his doe eyes. The strong nose and the cherry red lips, now being worried between slightly large front teeth as he stared at me with all the nervousness of a young boy.

But he wasn’t a boy. He was a man.

And this wasn’t a love song.

This was real life.

“Free falling is fun when you don’t know what you’re falling into. But when you do know that there’s a lot of pain at the end of the fall, its not something you want to experience.”

“Areum…”

“I’m flattered.” I said quickly. “ Beyond flattered…really. But… I can’t.”

“Okay. But don’t leave. Stay here with me.. for a while. Let’s talk.” He said quickly.

Jungkook was handsome and the night was still young. This maybe the last time I would ever see him and I was honest. It was flattering, receiving attention from someone like that.

I hesitated before sighing and nodding.

“Okay…let’s talk.” I smiled, throwing caution to the winds.

And talk we did. About everything and nothing. As the night grew darker, Jungkook relaxed next to me, laughing as he shared anecdotes about his members, about his family, about his brother. And then naturally about how successful they were these days and Jungkook told me that there was always a downside to fame but he enjoyed the love he received. That he loved his fans for how they treated him and his brothers.

“Fame comes with a price but it’s a small price to pay…being loved for what I do..being accepted the way I am…it feels good.” He said quietly.

“It’s not always that way though.” I pointed out honestly. “ You guys are … I won’t say lucky because you’ve definitely worked hard but you’ve been more fortunate than the rest. Sometimes the spotlight can be a terrifying place to be.”

“you forget that we were once one of the most hated idols in the country..” He laughed. “ Trust me I know.”

“I didn’t know about you guys till you got on the Billboard. And you’re an amazing singer as well.” I said softly.

He grinned , playing with the bracelets on his wrist.

“Thank you.” He said sweetly.

We stayed quiet for a few seconds, staring up at the sky.

“I’ve never been attracted to fame.” I told him honestly.” Of course it holds its charms I suppose but I’ve always preferred the quiet of being obscure, you know. Like this secret that only a few get to learn in their lifetime.” I laughed. “ A hidden treasure maybe? Its why I started a Youtube channel instead of auditioning. Because only people who genuinely liked my music would get more of me. ” I smiled.

Jungkook hummed.

“When you first started singing your own songs on your YouTube channel? It was kind of around the same time we won our first daesang…” He smiled. “ In the MMA.”

“Oh…Really?” I asked surprised. That was nearly five years ago.

“Yeah. And till then..it was just your voice that I got to hear. You talked a bit but mostly it was just you covering someone else’s songs. And well, after we won the daesang I felt …lonely? Kind of? Scared maybe. And then you sang, ‘ White Dove’ a couple of days later and the lyrics…they just resonated with me you know. It made me feel like I knew you… Like you were a friend.”

I swallowed.

“I..thank you.” I whispered quietly, staring at my hands.

“And when you refused to sign with SM or YG. You also refused to monetize your videos on Youtube. You said your voice was your gift and you didn’t want to make money from something you’d received for free yourself. That …I loved that.”

“You’re like that too. You post your covers and songs on soundcloud for free as well.” I said quietly and he smiled.

“Like I said…we have a lot in common.” He smiled.

I smiled, shaking my head.

“I envy you.” He said quietly and I glanced at him.

“Hmm?”

“You’re just… You’re so untouched by all this. By me. It may sound incredibly narcissistic but people swoon when they see me for the first time but…you’re just you…. And that just makes me remember that you’re amazing and beautiful and you have such beautiful mind and you’re just… you’re so far out of my league. You’re so content with what you have and I wish I could be that way….But I …I can’t help but be greedy.”

“Greedy?”

“To do more. To want more. I know I should be happy that I even got to meet you . I feel like I’ve lived a lifetime in these two hours , sitting here talking to you. But I’m still greedy for more.” He stared at me with an intensity that was electric.

“More what?” I laughed.

“More of this. More of you. More of you and me together. More of us.”

“Us?” I laughed, shaking my head. “ There’s no us , Mr. Jungkook . you need to forget about that.”

“ I don’t think I can.” He said suddenly.

I felt the smile fade from my face.

“Jungkook.”

“Your song … Utopia… where you write about your idea of the perfect world. I… I loved it.” He said shakily.

“Jungkook , wait…”

“All of these days, when I listened to your songs, I would make it personal.. It would be about how those words applied to my life but with Utopia… that world you talk about …where you can be yourself, where you can sing whatever you want, be whoever you want…. When I heard that song…it became about you. About us.. I… that world you dream of.. I want to give that to you.”

My jaw dropped and I exhaled in disbelief.

“Do you realize how ridiculous that is? Your fans…our companies… Everyone will lose their minds.” I whispered, horrified.

He nodded.

“I know. I know I shouldn’t ask you this. Because it goes against my better judgement. But I can’t help. I still want to choose this. Choose you. So if there’s a word for that.. That is how I feel.”

“I.. I should go.” I said nervously, making to move but he reached out an gently gripped my wrist.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” He asked quietly and I shook my head.

“No.. I don’t.” I said quietly.

“Good. Because neither do I. But I do believe in people who can understand you better than anyone else can. Just give me a chance. One date.”

I stayed quiet staring at my feet. There was so much to consider but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him and say no. He looked so hopeful.

“I’m busy for a couple of weeks. But there’s a beautiful terrace restaurant in Itaewon that I know. We’ll have complete privacy . I’ll get my chauffeur to pick you up. No one ill know. I just want to spend some time with you over dinner and if you have a good time….. we can meet again.”

And then what?

“I…I’ll try. But I can’t promise anything.“ I said honestly.

“That’s good enough for me. Can I have your number at least?” He asked finally.

I nodded and quietly put it into his phone.

“I’ll make the reservation and send you the details. And Areum?”

I glanced up at him.

“I’ve been free falling since I met you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply.

“I do.” I said quietly. “ I do remember.”

“I haven’t stopped falling. I keep listening to your songs on loop… Because I can’t bear the thought of being away from you , of not being connected to you in some way…”

“You’re so .. you’re so intense.” I whispered shakily and he laughed.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry. It’s just the way I am… I’m here you know. The restaurant I told you about. And my chauffeur is at your home. But he told me he couldn’t find you. It’s the middle of the night . where are you?”

I sighed.

“In the park opposite my house.”

Jungkook didn’t respond for a second.

“Do you want me to ask him to leave?” He asked quietly.

I took a deep breath.

“ Akrasia. “ I breathed out nervously.

“What…”

“its when someone makes a decision…against their better judgement.” I laughed nervously. “When we had that conversation , you asked me if there was a word for it. For acting against your better judgement. Akrasia is the word you’re looking for .”

He stayed quiet on the other end.

“Okay.” He said finally. “ Well, are you going to be akratic with me?” he said finally.

“Ask your driver to leave for now. And come meet me in my apartment tomorrow. I’ll make you dinner.”

Jungkook didn’t respond.

“That way we’ll have more privacy.” I said softly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dating Jungkook was a lot of pain. Just as I’d anticipated. It was sitting by and watching him work himself down to the bone. It was watching people throw themselves at him and not being able to say a word. To the world he was single. And the number of women who called and hounded him was unnatural.

And he worked so hard that my heart ached for him.

One night, he missed dinner and I couldn’t reach him on the phone. I stayed up , sitting on my bed, waiting.

He came back at exactly at three in the morning. He didn't turn on the light but the moonlight through the window was sufficient to let me know that he looked terrible. i watched him shrug out of his jacket, leaning against the table , long legs crossed and crisp white shirt unbuttoned. He tugged at his tie with a sort of tired , half hearted gesture and i smiled.

i watched him for sometime, seeing him shrug out of his shirt and change into a simple white t shirt. He moved with a sort of graceful strength. Like every single cell of his body had the same confidence that he did. 

It was like a dream, i realized as another dull ache of pain twisted my heart. It was like i'd slept and woken up in someone else's dream. A dream where it was okay for me to look at him and feel things for him , without fighting to convince herself that it was dangerous. That it was going to end in heartbreak.  

As i watched him prepare for bed, i wondered when I had started falling so hard.  

The sound of the door closing, made me look up , shaken out of my thoughts. Jungkook was locking the door behind him. 

When he moved to the bed, i decided to let him know that i was awake. 

"You're back?" i said softly. 

He hesitated, clearly startled , before smiling at me. It was a weak smile, one that practically screamed exhaustion and i sat up straighter,  watching as he moved to me side and gently stroked me hair. 

"Why aren't you asleep?" He smiled. 

"I was waiting for you." i said honestly holding my hand out and he took it, kissing it obediently. 

"you'll have to wait longer, I'm afraid. I have a meeting tomorrow morning with PDnim and I still haven't prepped for it. I need to get an hour's sleep and get back to work. " Up close he looked so tired that i felt my heart clench in panic. 

"You don't look good." i said, alarmed as i realized that his skin had a distinctively grayish tinge to it.

"Comeback times are always that way. Never good for my health." He said teasingly. He checked his phone messages before turning to me and smiling.  

"I see you've been cutting back on the pain killers... are you feeling better than?" He asked. I’d been down with some menstrual cramps earlier and I was touched that he remembered, even in the mess of his schedule.

"I wish you wouldn't change the topic everytime I try to show concern for you."  i said , a little bit annoyed. He grinned and touched my cheek with his forefinger. 

"Just the fact that you are concerned is enough for me . anything more and I might die of happiness. you don't want that do you?" He winked. 

Deciding that it was impossible to talk with the man, i asked him if he wanted something to drink. 

He shook his head and climbed in next to me but before laying down, he turned to me. 

He hesitated. 

"Will you lend me your shoulder for the night?" He said softly , placing his hand there. 

i sighed as he leaned against me . His skin felt warm against me, his hair lightly tickling me cheekbones and i threaded me finger through the silky strands. 

In just a few seconds, he was fast asleep. 

I stayed awake, watching the room grow steadily brighter, the weak winter sun gently finding its way into the room , much like the way the man in my arms was gently finding his way into my heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"We should get a house, don't you think?" i said two months later, sitting up in bed , eating dinner while i watched him work on his files. He'd placed the desk in the far corner of the room, giving me the perfect view. And i was beginning to enjoy it a lot more than the one i could see out the window. 

" A house? " Jungkook stopped and looked up. " You want to live with me ? Just the two of us?" He smiled.

Well, when he put it that way. I balked and ducked my head. 

"It's too soon isn't it..I'm sorry I don't know why I..."

"What kind of a house would you prefer? Flat? Penthouse? Apartment? Duplex? Tell me....I'll get you the listings and you can pick out the ones you like . When you get better we can go pick one out." He grinned at me and i relaxed against the pillows , while he went back to his files. 

"I read something online…” i said casually . He didn't look up, merely humming to acknowledge that he'd heard me. 

"Did you date Lee Hyeri ?" i finally said. He stopped and looked at me. 

"Yes. Many months ago. I broke up with her because I wasn’t feeling anything serious and I didn’t want to lead her one. She didn’t take it very well. ." He said softly, moving towards the bed and sitting on the edge. As was his habit, he reached for my hand, holding it in his and tracing circles with his thumb.

“She called me.” I said quietly and he stiffened.

“Shit.”

I laughed.

“She wanted to meet me . Wanted to talk about something although I have an idea what. I’m not going to indulge her though.”

“If she calls again, you should tell her that her obsession is bordering on stalking and I’m on the verge of getting a restraining order. She turned up at my studio too. Went on an on about how I broke her heart and cheated on her . ”

 i hesitated , looking away from him and smiling. 

"I don't know . Should I?" i shook my head. i hesitated, pulling my hand away from him. "What else did she say?" i said suddenly, remembering how angry she had sounded on the phone.

"Nothing, you need to worry about. Are you done with this? Shall I clean it up?" He reached for my dinner tray and i grabbed his wrist. 

"where are you going?  You should tell me what she said." i protested, but he gently pried my fingers off before dropping a kiss on me forehead .

"And You should tell me when you're going to start staying over at my apartment.. It's going to snow in a few days. Or so they say. I thought you might like to enjoy the first snow with me..." He smiled . 

I took the subtle hint to drop the subject.

"You're being too wonderful. It makes my heart ache." i snuggled into my bed and pouted at him. He laughed at that. 

"Take rest. I have a meeting right now. I'll be back late so you should sleep." 

I watched him leave, feeling oddly bereft. I was growing to love him deeply.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As with every couple in the world, our fights were often over the silliest things.

"You're still angry." I said casually, watching him work on his documents, the low burning desk light setting his features in sharp relief. He looked at me for a second and shook his head.

"I'm not angry , Areum. I'm busy. There is a difference." He said with a sigh, rubbing the heel of his palm into his eye. I watched the gesture and sat up straighter in bed, leaning over the side to stare at the clock there. It read 1.15 Am.

"It's snowing." I said softly, getting one my knees and peering out the windows. Through the haze of moonlight, I watched the small flakes drift down over the neatly cut hedgerows, making each segment of the garden look like neat cut slices of cake with vanilla cream frosting. I grinned at the little wisps of cotton white snow, clinging to each little branch on the trees and felt my heart swell with joy. 

"I suppose you're too busy to make good on your promise." I said naughtily, peering over my shoulder to glance at him. 

"Promise?"

"That you'll walk with me , in the first snow." I said, turning around and getting out of bed, slipping my feet into my fur slippers. I watched him fight with himself , the emotions warring across his handsome face and held my breath.

finally he sighed and stood up. I tried to keep the triumphant grin off my face and failed miserably. I felt awful, because deep down I had known that no matter how angry or upset he was, Jungkook would never break a promise. And I'd worded my request that way, just to take advantage of that little chink of honor that he always lived by. 

"Alright then. Let's go take a walk in the first snow." He said softly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You love snow."

"How did you know that?" I said surprised, lightly grabbing the low lying branch till it showered both of us with soft white flakes. 

"You make these little sounds , everytime you see  snow. I've noticed it from the time we met." Jungkook grinned . 

I laughed and turned away. I felt like I was standing in the middle of a fairytale, the white landscape making me feel like some exotic Ice Queen. I walked ahead of him, running a few steps till I was about ten feet ahead of him. I turned around, facing him as I walked backwards. He laughed at that. 

"Be careful. The snow looks soft but the fall will hurt." He warned me, putting his hands in his pockets and narrowing his shoulders to fight the chill. I smiled and shook my head.

"I want to look at you and make sure that you're not angry with me anymore." I said, enjoying the way he rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"I'm not angry. I told you that."

"Yes. You did. But i didn't tell you I'm sorry, did I?" I said softly, stopping in my tracks and watching as he drew closer. Jungkook gave me a curious glance, walking slowly till he was just in front of me.

"I'm sorry I said I'll leave you." I said honestly. He looked surprised but smiled nonetheless.

"Duly noted." He bowed his head, tipping an imaginary hat at me. Smiling, I turned around I ran a few more steps and instinctively knelt on the ground

"Don't ." He said suddenly. 

I  looked up from where I was gathering a handful of snow. I gave him an innocent smile. 

"What?" 

"I know what you're thinking. don't do it." He said, taking a step back. I felt a thrill of anticipation shoot through me, realizing that the big bad wolf was actually scared of being hit by a snowball. 

"You should know why I like snow so much.." I grinned with mischief and he gave me a look of disbelief.

"I don't think you can hit me. You're forgetting that i'm an expert at taekwondo.”

I held my hand up and threw , cursing when he casually stepped out of the way, laughing at the look on my face. 

"You have to concentrate on what you're doing. Anticipate my next move and react accordingly." He advised, bending down to get some snow for himself. 

"React to this!!" I grabbed two handfuls of snow and ran straight at him, grinning as I leapt on him.

We landed on the snow, Jungkook  on his back and I right on top of him, laughing as I smeared the snow on his face. He spluttered in disbelief and swiftly, threw his weight over, pinning me to the ground and straddling me, fingers swiftly grabbing my wrists and pushing my hands over my head, leaving me vulnerable and helpless, as he shook his head , showering me with ice cold flakes. 

I squeaked in surprise and he laughed hard.

Watching him laugh, full and open , I realized that I'd never watched him laugh that way before.

He looked exhilarated. 

Yanking my hand out of his grasp, I grabbed his collar, pulling him down for a kiss. 

the first touch of his lips to mine, felt like the sweetest, coolest sip of crystal waters after a lifelong thirst . 

I sank into the snow, sighing into the sweetness and the gentle pressure of his lips against me, the first touch of his tongue, making heat seep through my body, despite the cold. I curled my fingers into the fur near his neck, smiling into the kiss as he slipped one hand into my hair, gently tilting my head for better access. 

He kissed me softly. He kissed me deeply.

He kissed me like that was what he'd been put on the earth to do. 

But mostly he kissed me like that was all he wanted .

It was so absurdly romantic that I wanted to laugh .

I could catch whiffs of his scent, even though my eyes were watering and mey nose felt like it was running. Some elusive cologne mixed with the scent of  clean male skin . It made me heat up in ways that curled my toes in my fur boots. Each little kiss lasted a little longer than the one before, till I was certain that I was going to melt into the snow. And each little breath felt like a little wisp of my soul leaving my body and mingling with his. 

We kissed and kissed and kissed, while the snow fell in white flakes around us .

First Snow. first kiss, I thought happily. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After our little episode in the garden, I found that I felt something akin to desperation everytime I came in contact with Jungkook.

It's not that I woke up one day and realized that something had changed in the way I watched Jungkook.

. That my eyes lingered, not just on his face but on the curve of his lips, the edge of his jaw, the exposed skin of his neck. My fingers wanted to reach out and  grip, not just the strength of his shoulders and the slender digits of his hand but also his lean waist.

I began losing my mind, slowly and painfully. Suffocating when Jungkook got too close , choking when he went away too far.

As they spent time together, Jungkook began touching me.

. Not too often and never in an intrusive way , but every time his fingers traced the back of my palm or brushed back my hair, my  throat went dry and my heart stopped pumping blood and I felt like like a fool because I had no idea if Jungkook felt half of what I was feeling.

In fact I was certain that Jungkook didn’t feel anything at all.

What I was feeling was painful and confusing and if Jungkook felt any of it, he would be running as far away from me as possible, not moving closer and closer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why are you so nervous?” Jungkook laughed and I bit my nails nervously, glancing around the reception hesitantly. The workers were all busy, no one spared us so much as a glance but I couldn’t help but feel terrified.

“It’s only us here? For the whole weekend? No one else?” I asked again for the hundredth time.

Jungkook groaned, shaking his head and ignoring me, holding his hand out for the keys to our cottage. I yelped a bit when he began walking away without waiting for me, running to keep up with his long strides.

“Sorry…I just don’t want you to get in trouble.” I said quietly, slipping my hand into his, linking our fingers together and smiling a little.

He squeezed my hand gently before pulling away to wrap me in a one armed huge, pressing a kiss to my neck.

“I booked the entire resort for the weekend. The staff have all signed a confidentiality agreement. No one is going to know we’re here. You can be as loud as you want.” He whispered and I yelped, hitting his chest,” let me finish….” He laughed. “ When you yell at me. You can be as loud as you want when you yell at me.”

“You’re a terrible person.” I whispered , burying my face into his arm in mortification.

Jungkook merely laughed .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You seem tense." He said that evening, as the pair of us sat on the back deck , glasses of bubble tea in hand , watching the waves break out on the rocks. Slow but persistent , gradually breaking the rock's resistance and carving its way into its heart.

"Can we ever …truly be relaxed ?" I asked , a little bit of desperation in my tone. Jungkook didn’t turn to look at me . Instead he took a picture of the rocks and the sea with his phone.

"That's a pretty loaded question. With a lot of answers."

I stared  at him, wondering why I was more confused now than before.

"Sometimes I can't understand you at all." I said quietly, shaking my head.

“Do you understand that I love you?” He said softly.

I hesitated before nodding.

“That’s the only thing that matters to me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The boys dropped by for a visit the next day.

I sat down on the open deck, opposite Namjoon for a game of chess. Jungkook slid into the armchair next to me.

"Are you winning?" Jungkook asked quietly and I shot  him a glare, which gets a smile in return promptly. It was like he always knew what to say , how to manipulate my thoughts and emotions, how to make me look and feel a certain way , just so he could steal that part of mr away.

How evil.

At first I didn’t  notice that he was sitting a bit too close for comfort, because as such, we've lived on top of each other for quite a while now. But after a while I became  aware of the warmth of his thigh, solid and strong against my own, evident even through the layers of jean separating them.

I  tried to move away, surreptitiously, but Jungkook only moved closer.

"Try this."

His fingers fluttered over my thigh, intentionally or not I would never know, reaching for my queen and I tried not to jump out of my skin, gritting my teeth as my muscles stiffened, my nerves tingling like electric.

I licked my lips and Jungkook’s  eyes flickered up at the movement, a gentle smile tugging at his lips and my gut clenched in embarrassment. But the brunette moved even closer, his bare arm now brushing against mine  and I had to swallow the desperate urge to get up and just run.

"Well, this is entertaining." Namjoon said suddenly and i looks at my opponent for the first time since Jungkook’s  arrival. Namjoon was leaning back in his armchair, amusement shining out of his eyes .

I scrambled  in a bid to put space between Jungkook and I and failed miserably.

"He's just helping me with chess." I said desperately.

"Oh, is that what they call it these days?" Namjoon leaned forward looking very intrigued.

Jungkook reached out and clonked him on the head but his eyes were laughing and I wondered how this was going to end. I wanted it. Wanted to take that final step with Jungkook but I was also so , so scared.

Would it change things. For the better? For worse?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook, I soon realized, took the way I was shying away from him , as some sort of a twisted challenge to get closer than ever. The more I moved away, the closer Jungkook gets , touching me in gentle intimate little touches and every time he did,  a slow simmering fire started at the pit of my stomach, reaching out in gentle upward licks , drying my throat and turning my insides into molten goo.

She's almost tempted to ask Jungkook if he feels the same way but she's saved the trouble later that week.

"I want you."

I froze on the spot, fingers stopping in mid air, inches from picking up a slice of apple, neatly placed on the tray. We were in the dining room,  Jungkook sitting with a set of files spread out in front of him and me with a knife and a few uncut apples in a basket.

"You..what?" I squeaked.

" I'm attracted to you and I really want to have sex with you." Jungkook said  , almost carefully.

Like he was announcing the weather. Like his words weren’t carefully calculated to turn my world upside down.

"Alright. " I whispered, not even sure what else I could say to that.

I stole a glance at Jungkook who was grinning from ear to ear. I felt blush rushing up my body, the blood flooding my face so quick it made me dizzy..

"Don't .. Don't look at me like that." I whispered, mortified to sound like a sixteen year old girl.

"Do you want me to leave now?" Jungkook reached out , placing a soft hand on my palm and it took all my  willpower not to grab Jungkook and hug him. Instead I managed a weak smile. My mind was a few seconds away from collapsing in on itself and I was too stunnedto think straight.

So I answered the question at face value.

"No, I don't want you to leave now. "

"Okay. Go ahead, eat your fruit. It's good for you."

Jungkook smiled again, serene and perfectly at peace with the world.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At eleven thirty on Saturday night, both Jungkook and I sneaked out of the hotel, arms laden with our picnic basket and coats draped over our shoulders. Once we reached  large pond in the outer edge of the property, Jungkook made quick work of the blanket, spreading it out on the artificial lawn that surrounded it.

I settled down on it, reaching out and dipping my legs in the water. It's a bit chilly but only for a second. I wriggled my toes playfully and Jungkook slipped a bit closer to me, letting his foot sink in next to mine.

We played around for a while, splashing water on each other and then I pulled my legs out.

"You okay?" Jungkook asked softly and I turned around to stare at him , a little apprehensive. There are so many things wrong with this , a part of me screams. But there's a part of me that longs, so badly , for this simplicity. Longs and has longed, all my life. Just this, the chance to relax and be myself and play around with water in the moonlight.

"I'm not sure." I admitted, honestly.

"Tell me. " Jungkook said and for once his voice isn't relaxed. Instead it's a bit urgent and anxious.

"We're not... I’m so scared that we'll never make it, you know." I sighed, dipping my legs back into the water, just as Jungkook pulled his out.

"Why? Because of the media ?" There’s a hint of bitterness in his voice and I hated myself for bringing this up. We were supposed to be spending time together, enjoying each other’s company. I wasn’t sup[posed to be ruining the mood like this.

"It's nothing. I just.. I don't want you to get hurt." I said honestly.

"Because of you? Because I'm with you?" Jungkook's voice was lot softer now, the bitterness replaced by concern.

"I.. Yes.. I mean... I'm.."

"You're a gorgeous young woman who is intelligent and charming. Why would I ever give you up?" Jungkook asked, reaching out and wrapping an arm around my shoulder but I couldn’t help but sigh.

"That's.. that's not what everyone else thinks." I reminded him. “ And that not what they’ll say, if you ever tell them the truth about us.”

"No it isn't. And I won't say something stupid like , it doesn't matter what others think. Because it does, I know it does. And it's going to hurt. In fact I think it would hurt you a lot more than it would hurt me. But if I don't... If I don't take a chance with us... that's going to hurt me too. So its a choice. I can either  choose to get hurt by people I don't give a damn about , and in return I get... get to be with someone I really...like…..

"Or, I give up the woman I love and get hurt by my own decision. " Jungkook finished.

"We hurt either way." I smiled bitterly, Jungkook's words making a lot of sense.

"Yes. All you need to choose is , what's worth the hurt? Being with me, or society's approval?" Jungkook leaned forward slightly and I blinked.

We stayed that way staring at each other for a second and then he pulled away and sighed deeply.

"I've already chosen, I. I'm not pushing you, but I hope you'll pick me." He said quietly.

I stared into the night, thoughtfully. So easy, I told myself. So easy to turn around right now and kiss Jungkook, tell him that I didn’t deserve so much happiness. That my heart was so light, I wanted to spout wings and fly.

So easy but so frightening.

The wind picked up somewhere and somehow a draught found its way inside and I shivered a little, only to have a warm blanket wrapped around my shoulder. Jungkook snuggled in with me and we huddled together

My thoughts tripped over each other  and I wanted to run away but I stayed still, letting the gentle lap of the water against my toe, calm my inner turmoil.

"It's just you and me." Jungkook whispered, " Right now. Just you and me. Let's pretend we're the only ones on the planet."

I turned around to the brunette in surprise but Jungkook's looking out into the water, lit by a full moon from the skylight.

"Just you and me. " He said absently and I nodded, looping my fingers with Jungkook's. We sat in silence, pressed against each other and I waited till the moon slipped behind a cloud before turning around, slightly, and pressing my lips against Jungkook's.

It's soft and very short, over before it even begins and Jungkook smiled into the kiss.

  Explicit Content : 

       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook teasingly pushes her back and Areum falls back against the soft mattress, like she's been shoved. She melts into the kiss and then Jungkook’s lips move away, dragging his teeth and tongue over the exposed expanse of her neck, lightly sucking and biting and then soothing with his tongue. Areum gasps and struggles and fights for air, before dragging their lips together again.

Jungkook kisses her until she's splayed flat against the bed, eyes wide and lost and lips parted, blush staining her cheeks and then Jungkook's reaching out to the table and pulling his camera , snapping a picture.

"You're such a weirdo!" Areum laughs , too turned on to be annoyed.

"No, just a man. A man in love." Jungkook leans down, pushing his hips down into hers and she gasps at the friction. They make quick work of their jeans and suddenly its skin on skin and she's not sure if she's doing this right.

"Jungkook.. I..I.."

"Hey, relax. I got you." Jungkook holds her close, just holding her, cradling her almost and the familiar words smooth away her apprehensions and he's moving closer, trying to pull more sounds out of her, his lips tracing the line of her chest, tongue swirling around one nipple before moving down and down, dipping lightly into her belly button.

And then the camera is tossed to the side, Jungkook flipping them over with ease , his lips moving down , tongue dipping into the curve of her waist down and then further down , lightly licking at the sensitive bundle of nerves near her center and Areum's pretty certain she loses her mind at that point.

"You're amazing." He whispers, and she nearly flies off the bed when Jungkook slides a single digit in, slowly , so slowly. She’s wet and ready but her body is still stuck in auto pilot and she wants to close her legs instinctively.

"Relax for me." Jungkook whispers, lips close to her ear, licking and teasing .

"I'll make it good. Just relax for me." Jungkook says again,  gently, lapping at her neck and Areum unclenches her thighs letting him work his way in, sighing when the slide becomes a little more easy and a little more familiar.

"So beautiful." Jungkook whispers and Areum laughs, shaking her head.

"It's dark, you can't even see-"

"I can’t see but I can feel you. i can feel you and you’re so fucking gorgeous." He slips another finger in and curls his fingers against the walls of her insides and the gentle press of the pad of his finger is too much and not enough , all at once. Her head falls back into the pillow, all coherency leaving her body in a single whoosh of breath.

"Look at me. Only me." She whispers when Jungkook thrusts into her for the first time and Jungkook nods shakily and he pushes in, leaving her trembling at the ache and the pain and wanting to cry out, but she swallows it all down because she knows it’s going to get better .

"Don't wander off. " Areum whispers, pulling him down for a kiss and Jungkook pushes in deeper, earning a gasp. He wishes he could explain, that he can't ever think of anything but her because she is the perfect dream.

“I love this. I love you. “ she whispered and he had to physically restrain himself from burying himself to the hilt inside her. Her body was still getting used to him. He didn’t want to hurt her but God, she felt so amazing around him. the heat and wetness driving him crazy in a way that couldn’t be explained.

“Hold me tight.”

And she did.

With her arms and her legs and her body and her.....everything.

When she clenched around him, his mind went blissfully blank, her orgasm hitting him like an earth shattering, bone melting , heart stopping explosion of bliss.  

He fell against her, careful not to crush her with his weight and rolled to the side gathering her close.

Someday he would hurt her, he was sure of it. He was an idiot after all and he knew he would find a way to muck this up and ruin it for them but for now, he wasn’t going to think about any of that.

For now, he was going to enjoy the intimacy of making love to the woman he loved.

 Author’s Note : Hope you guys liked it! it was supposed to be very angsty but its really not lol....

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[giorno-plays-piano]

Tainted Apollo

Pairing: Kars x Reader

Warnings: mentions of gore, death of minor characters, slight allusion to dubcon.

Words: 3056.

Summary: Finding a peculiar sculpture in the ruins of an ancient temple, you realize you have stumbled upon a god set in stone.

P.S. I forgot to post this one here haha

____________

"Good morning, Sire." You welcomed him as you stretched in your improvised bed, an old metal container of some kind with a pile of blankets on top of it.

Rubbing your sleepy eyes, you slowly put your feet on the floor and adjusted the hem of your nightgown so he wouldn't see too much of your flesh. Kars always found this habit of yours ridiculous. He had been a piece of stone for God knew how long, and even after you found him he'd been confined to bed for no less than a year, barely moving and unable to speak. Kars was sure you didn't even understand what he was, but you still cared about covering your body in front of him. What a pathetic habit, he thought.

When you found him in the sands, somewhere in what appeared to be a long abandoned temple that had been in ruins even before he reached the Earth, you first thought he was some kind of sculpture, adoring his unusual but captivating form. He hated you watching him with your eyes wide, even touching a lock of his petrified hair - you were just a mortal human woman, one of those he had been determined to wipe out, but you had the audacity to act like his sole purpose was to lay in the sand for your entertainment. If he could move, he would definitely end your pathetic like there and then. But Kars couldn't.

It must have been ages, if not a millennium, since he had been banished from Earth. Drifting through darkness, his body had turned to stone, his limbs losing their ability to move - regardless of him finally becoming an ultimate form of life, it brought him nothing but eternal suffering and oblivion. Kars had stopped functioning like a living being almost completely. Almost. If he hadn't been returned back to Earth by some accident, he would continue his meaningless journey to the stars till the end of times because the darkness enveloping him had no limits. It felt like being thrown into a cold throat of some gigantic monstrous creature, but instead of reaching its stomach and finally dying he had been forced to circulate somewhere in between, neither dead nor alive. If silly humans thought the Hell was real, it had to be it.

He couldn't remember what force sent him back to Earth as he could think of no one doing it intentionally, but it didn't matter as long as he could reach Earth. Regardless of what would happen after, Kars knew he would survive and regain his power, finally giving humanity what it deserved for what they had done to him.

Funny, but when his mind had awoken from hibernation, Kars realized there was no one to take revenge on. Humanity had successfully wiped itself out.

Even after year and a half that passed, he still saw just you, a girl who had brought his petrified form to her home to take care of him knowing he was alive - by the time you met him Kars was able to open his eyes. Oh, he remembered well how horrified you were, stumbling upon an immensely beautiful statue that turned out to be a stone god, he heard you saying that for a few times. That day you ran away with such an expression Kars didn't expect you to ever come back, although you showed up a couple of days after, trying to talk to him in that odd new human language he had never heard before. As he kept silent, unable to even move his lips and make a sound, you realized the god you stared upon had been trapped in stone, and you could do nothing to free him. You went away, but came back with an odd machine that reminded him of Stroheim, and Kars thought of melting your bones when you dared to use to transport him. However, he had to admit how further did human technology evolved when even a small and timidly-looking machine like yours could lift and transport him to your home, a place inside another machine that had been definitely used for military purposes before being abandoned. It looked incredibly pathetic, as if you were a little rat that had to live in a pile of garbage out of pure need.

The world he once knew and wished to conquer had disappeared. All he saw while being driven away by your small machine had been a never-ending desert and ruins of other machines: he learnt lately those were enormous satellites, star ships, and other rusting remnants of an epoch that had been long gone. Watching gigantic sand stingrays crossing the desert as if it were a sea made him realize how far humans had gone - they had created monsters that were never meant to exist in the first place.

Of course, they paid for it. Judging from the stories you told him and what he observed himself, humanity had faced almost complete annihilation even without intervention of their outer space enemies, if there were any. The atomic war destroyed nearly everything humans had been creating since the beginning of their era. It affected even the natural course of life of every living being on Earth, forcing them to change and finally become a horrifying, mutilated, monstrous life form of something they had been once. Even the Moon had been gone, it's ugly half-destroyed form shining in the night sky and making it even more revolting. You had said something about unsuccessful colonization and the war over moon territories while Kars had to force himself to look down on the sand that was at least familiar to him.

Disgusting. He still had hard time believing how far humans had gone, destroying everything that existed long before they started ruling the planet. What would Jojo say now if he saw what a nightmare the world had become? Wasn't it better to let Kars wipe out the humanity before this had happened?

He had been fighting the urge to break your spine or melt your insides at least for a couple of months, blaming you for the crimes of your ancestors despite you obviously being too young to commit any of the atrocities that had happened. How come a human being had the audacity to survive in this post-Apocalyptic world while other life forms had mutated into monsters? When you were wiping any impurities off his cold stony skin, he was dreaming of the time when his body would come out of this odd hibernation period he couldn't control and then murder you in some rather painful way, prolonging your death till you felt all kinds of despair a human like you could. As he struggled to move even his fingers, he had finally decided not to harm an only being capable of taking care of him.

Each day you brought him to sunlight so he could observe what was outside of your pathetic shelter while you worked to grow anything in this lifeless place, several times a week departing to some place to fill the ugly rusted water tank, then watering your plants in a some kind of a nicely equipped greenhouse - funny, now you used it to protect the plants from the intense heat rather than trap it inside. Fruits and vegetables were what your diet was based on, including some synthetic supplements Kars refused to consume, disgusted by something made purely by humankind. Sometimes you would bring him fried meat, and while the thought of eating a mutilated animal had been revolting to him, Kars knew you could offer him nothing else. Even the meat you brought you offered only to him, rarely taking a piece for yourself: now it must have been a great privilege to consume meat. Besides, it truly sustained him better than fruits or vegetables, and he was dependent on what you were feeding him, slowly getting his strength back. After a year and a half he was now able to move his lips and fingertips, making you nearly ecstatic: it seemed you were doing everything right.

What did you think he was? A deity? A monster? A machine? Probably an immortal being who had existed long before the annihilation, that's what you said: you were talking to him from time to time either to pay your respects, tell him more about your world you thought he knew nothing about or voice what you were going to do right the next moment. One day as you brought several rectangular plates made with what looked like a blue metal to him, you read Kars about ancient Greek gods, wondering if he had been one of them - you saw him melting food with his skin, and for you it was the inherent symbol of his divinity. Kars had to give you some credit: you weren't as stupid he first thought you were. You weren't worshipping him as much as he deserved, but you probably did the best you could do, just a little desert rat having nothing but her plants and a decaying metal house.

"I won't come back till the sunset." You said once you finished washing your face and brushing your hair, tucking them under a faded scarf out of some light fabric and then reaching out to grab your mask. "I'll try being quick, Sire, but it's important I visit that place. If I'm lucky, I might bring something very useful to you."

Useful to him, huh? He would appreciate if you stopped humoring yourself: there was nothing useful you could bring him aside from a dozen people to devour. While he knew there were some people left on Earth still, he also knew you wouldn't master the strength to capture, less sacrifice them to him. Besides, Kars was still deciding whether it was worth devouring those creatures. While it certainly would make him return his powers faster, he could wait a couple of centuries - Kars doubted remaining humans could do something worse to Earth than what had already been done.

You didn't return after the sunset that day. It was the first time you hadn't keep your promise to him, and it made ill-tempered Kars bitter: oh, he would remember it and make sure you remembered it, too. He spent the night thinking what he was going to do to you, albeit not getting too violent in his thoughts. Something probably happened on your way, and you had to stop and spend the night in the desert before coming back.

The next day you didn't return either. He waited for you till the sunset but heard nothing but the sound of sand stingrays travelling to the other part of the desert. The complete silence troubled Kars more than he was able to admit: you had been somewhere around most of the time, taking to him or making some other irritating noise. While he found you just one more annoying creature inferior to him, your absence had a strange effect on Kars - it felt like something was crawling beneath his stony skin, making it harder to keep calm despite the fact the man had always been patient, unaffected by something so unworthy of his attention. However, your absence was a clear sign that something had happened, and it somehow bothered him.

Were you attacked by the monstrous creatures roaming the earth? Humans? Some other force he knew nothing about? Surely, it had something to do with the thing you attempted to bring, but you were vague about its nature, and Kars doubted it was really something decent. How come you had the audacity to risk your life when you were his one and only follower, sustaining and taking care of him while he was still in hibernation? Were you so unbearably stupid you decided you could leave him alone for long? Who had given you the right to bother Kars with your absence? It was inexcusable. The only reason why he didn't punish you was his petrified body, but he wouldn't stay in such state forever.

The lack of your presence was becoming more and more disturbing, and Kars questioned himself why did it matter. He had never needed someone's company - even though he had respect for both Esidisi and Wamuu, their closeness to him wasn't something essential. Not that your presence was either... and yet he found himself constantly thinking about the reasons why you were late. Although it irritated him, Kars decided that time he spent into space had its effects on his mind.

When you returned at last, the sun had already disappeared over the horizon. You were bleeding - he saw crimson stains on your face and your left arm, your faded scarf absent when you stormed inside your house, a small metal container in your hand as you flew to your stone god. Something had gone terribly wrong.

"I'm sorry, Apollo." You were running out of breath, but Kars heard you calling him by a Greek god's name. Was it the god of light? Your choice was rather peculiar. You were probably calling him like this in your mind since you brought those books home, but was afraid to voice your thoughts to him. "I wasn't as prepared I thought I was. The guards are still there even after all these years."

Leaving the container on the floor close to him, you took your bag and started your things there, searching for food and flasks. Somebody had been following you to your hideout.

"This is all I could find." You whispered, opening the container and taking out a small glass vial with a bright red liquid inside. "I can't tell how it will affect you, but I believe it would be of use to you, Apollo. Please, consume it."

You had carefully lifted the vial as if it were going to explode and then put it on his chest, awaiting for Kars to melt it onto his body. He had been suspicious about this, for some reason unable to detect what the liquid was as the vial seemed to block it, he consumed it, nonetheless - there was a chance it could speed up the end of his hibernation.

And it did. He felt the familiar heat, albeit Kars had never thought the stone could be turned into liquid, and yet it was it, something he had been chasing for so long once before becoming who Kars was now. How come it had been somewhere here all along? Was it fate to land here where it had all ended for him once? Kars had no answers. Not that it mattered now as his petrified body was rapidly recovering, his limbs finally able to move, his dark locks softening, the paralysis shattering while he stood up, showing you his perfect form in all its glory as you stared at him, either afraid or unable to move. He was the God you were waiting for, his large wings turning into flesh hands, a halo of light surrounding his perfectly proportioned, sculptured body and making you lose your eyesight for a couple of seconds. It happened so suddenly you were trembling on your knees in front of him, forgetting about those who had trailed you and the danger they could bring to your God and you, both fear and admiration engraved into your stare. Kars was much more than you had pictured him to be, undoubtedly.

As much as he enjoyed that look on your face, devouring your fragile figure with his eyes, he could feel his enemies breathing down his neck. Of course, all of them were unworthy of seeing his true power, but even someone as miserable as them would do for a quick warm up after centuries of hibernation: once several disgustingly looking men with scars and mutilated limbs showed up in your hideout, all of them Ripple users just like Jojo had been, Kars let out a laugh, watching them demanding both him and you to surrender. Worthless little creatures, they thought they could give orders to him, the most perfect form of life on Earth. He had slashed all of them the next moment, pools of their blood dirtying the floor and spreading further to metal walls: apparently, despite them still being able to use Ripple, their power had deteriorated greatly to the point they only posed a threat to a fellow human being, someone as frail and delicate as you.

Turning to face you still on your knees, he saw your wide eyes, tears streaming down your cheeks while you covered your mouth with your hands: was your God more terrifying than you had imagined him to be? Did you think he would forgive those who made a mistake of challenging him, the most powerful being the Earth had ever hold? Silly little girl, there were so many things you had to learn about him, the God you were destined to worship and love with your whole being.

"Stand up, woman." He said, watching you tremble and trying to wipe away your tears, not knowing what you had to say to the God you finally saw in all his glory. "I demand you to leave with me before the sun rises. Gather whatever belongings you need for a long journey, we will depart soon."

You bowed to him deeply, afraid to open your mouth and say something your God would consider inappropriate, and hurried to take your bag, quickly putting everything you considered important in it while Kars stepped closer to the pathetic beings, consuming what was left of them and feeling the power coursing through his body, filling him with warmth he had craved for so long. That little vial you brought was truly worthy of him, and Kars felt satisfied it was you who found him in the sands in the middle of nowhere. He would take you with him while he would try to resurrect the Earth as he remembered it, bringing the balance to it and watching it flourish once again.

"Apollo, I have taken everything." You whispered to him timidly, forgetting you were using that fictional name you gave him.

Kars chuckled, marching through your hideout flooded with blood of his enemies. If you needed to compare him to some stupid Greek god so desperately, you should have chosen Hades.

[youarejesting]

Sea [1/2]

Beta: @lillielil @aroseforyoongi​ @seokjinssymphony​ @kpooplifeforever​ @explosiveranga​​ & my good friend Z (let me know if I left anyone out.) Rating: 17+ Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Reader Genre: Action, Adventure, Angst, Fluff, Comedy, slow burn, slice of life. Words: 6.8k

Summary: After your plane to Korea takes an unexpected detour, you are stranded with someone you aren’t even sure speaks English. As the race begins to stay alive, emotions run high and tempers short. The unlikely contender in the survival race is love which snuck up on you both.

The thought of a thirteen-hour flight didn't bring you much joy. Why would it? Being trapped in a small box with wings, not to mention being stuck in said box with multiple people breathing recycled farts and eating some sort of wet styrofoam they called food that would most definitely give you food poisoning. Oh yes, what a joy it would be to be in a seat for hours on end, letting your skin slowly dry up. 

Arriving at the terminal, you stood waiting for them to start boarding. You would have been sitting if there was a single seat free. Seriously, some asshole had even dared to lay across no less than five and a half seats, his bag resting on the empty chair at the end. 

He was wearing all black and looked comfortable in his jeans and hoodie. His black cap pulled down over his eyes and you could see the bleached blonde hair sticking out from underneath. Big chunky headphones on his ears made it possible for this man to drown out the world around him.

You glared at his legs, growing tired, knowing that within a few hours you would be begging for the chance to stand up. If you were to take a mental count, there hadn’t been any nice experiences you could recall in regards to traveling on a plane.

Did that reflect the quality of service or your standard of air travel? No. Obviously, your standards were realistic, not expecting the flight time any shorter or the staff to give a foot massage or anything outrageous. 

You really didn't want any extra luxuries other than what was offered in the pamphlet — and yes, that meant you chose first-class — because if you were to suffer, you would do so in the best environment.

Unfortunately, the reality of it was that there was no better or more comfortable way to travel. Checking in, you would be boarding first before the other passengers, not really a privilege. However you got in line anyway behind the young man who had previously been lounging across the airport seats. He was holding up the line having lost his passport and you were getting more and more pissed. 

You were simply just having a bad day. 

A woman behind you started openly arguing, exclaiming that this man was not allowed to ride first class as he clearly wasn’t fit for it. Bringing up his style of dress and the headphones around his neck. You turned, glaring daggers at the woman until she became silent. 

Society taught people to judge based on appearance, that everyone fit into a category, never mind the old adage to ‘never judge a book based on it’s cover’. Stil, you were always respectful and treated others equally, maybe even getting to know a person that you wouldn’t in other circumstances. It always surprised you how much you enjoyed taking a risk and getting to know them.

Once you showed your ticket and passport, you traveled down the long hall towards the plane. You saw the man in front of you talking with another man. He seemed to respect him and was reading him a schedule from his phone. You raised your eyebrows and smiled at the young stewardess who welcomed you on board. Her hair was pristine in a tight bun and her crisp, dark blue outfit was paired with a red scarf.

Stepping over the small gap, you felt the cold of the air conditioning, yet the air still felt thick. There were three places you could go to feel this type of cold: the dentist, an airplane, or the movies. First class was spacious with only a single cubicle on either side of the aisle. You took your seat. It was like personal rooms where you could close a sliding screen for more privacy, even though you were sitting next to someone, you wouldn't be able to see them at all.

The seats were more like arm chairs that one could lay back completely in, made with a brilliant blue leather. The cubicle room was complemented in a similar shade but with red features. You had a tv and a tiny minibar that had a small selection of drinks and snacks.

The flight attendants took all the passengers through the safety instructions. You could practically write them at this point. However they added a few things you had never heard. You had never heard such in-depth instructions going beyond the general life jackets, floatation devices, and first aid kits. 

Never before had they told you about the airbags that would be deployed if you crash in the ocean. Apparently the emergency escape slides doubled as floatation devices and could hold up to one hundred and thirty people comfortably. They even explained how they detach these rafts from the fuselage and that they have ropes that allow them to be tied off to each other or the airframe. 

Distracted by a tired male sighing beside you, you wondered who would fall asleep during the safety messages. Sure they were boring, but even you pretended to care. When you turned to see the culprit, he was disappearing behind the plastic divider of his cubicle dragged by his long pale fingers.

Well, at least you had some privacy. It was something you were thankful for, you wanted to get comfortable, or as comfortable as you could.

Perhaps these new instructions and information were deemed irrelevant to domestic flights. Or perhaps it was for the very enthusiastic kid they led through the first class discussing more of the plane's anatomy. “What if a wing falls off?”

“The plane is really sturdy, the wing wouldn’t just fall off” She grinned, “Let’s see what the pilot is doing and we can get your mum a picture wearing the captain's hat!” 

After the flight attendants thanked everyone for listening, the plane took to the sky. You closed up all sides of your cubicle and requested to be only woken for meals. The stewardess was very diligent and for that you were grateful. 

The journey was nearing the six hour mark and all that one could see was clouds and the ocean. The collection of empty water bottles were a poignant reminder to relieve your bladder. 

You stood up and waddled determined to go to the bathroom. It was inconvenient to drink so much water but you didn't want to get dehydrated. 

Feeling much better, you took a few minutes to look in the mirror and moisturise as your skin was feeling particularly dry already. Startled from your self care routine by a light rapping on the door, you packed up your things and pulled open the door. Unfortunately, at that moment, the plane shook.

It was like something from a romance novel, the way you fell against him and yet, there was nothing elegant or poetic in the way you fell against him.

Your face slammed into his chest and his head hit the wall with a heavy thud. "Sorry, I'm sorry"

"Shibal" he said, his language was something unlike you have ever heard, it was rhythmic and sounded like a song. His voice was so low and rumbly it almost sounded like he was purring. 

You weren’t well versed in other languages or cultures, so you didn’t know what he was saying. This was your first time leaving your country. If it wasn’t for the damn holiday raffle at work, you wouldn’t have even left your house. Every other flight you had ever been on was domestic and therefore your suffering was short lived, but this flight was long and you were getting rather bored. It seemed your mind was reeling trying to absorb all that it could and currently that meant the poor man you had body slammed into the wall was under your perusal.

His body was thin unlike yours which was curvaceous. His hair was dark and shaggy making his pale skin almost ghostly. He had sharp cat-like eyes that were quite intimidating as they glared at you and his small downturned lips were yet to speak. He seemed like a man of few words. All this coldness was juxtaposed by his cute round nose. You could tell from his features that he was from Asia, but you couldn't pinpoint where.

Grabbing your shoulders, he started to push you off of him, when the plane shook again and you both fell back into the small bathroom. Your back hit the toilet, and a searing pain bloomed from the impact causing your body to lock up as it radiated through you.

The seat belt light came on. You both scrambled to your feet bumping into the walls, sink and each other from the unstable winds shaking the plane. Struggling back to your seats when the cabin pressure changed. There was a creaking sound and the plane started shaking. You immediately felt a sick sense of dread. The pilot spoke calmly about turbulence and requested everyone return to their seats. But the pair of you couldn't move down the aisle to your seats.

There was a sound like a car backfiring and someone from economy class shouted about the wing being on fire. Your grip on the young man's coat tightened and a terrifying sound like metal groaning filled the cabin. That didn’t sound like regular turbulence, you were sure of that.

Sharing a horrified look with the young man, you got up the courage to try to push off from the wall. Unsuccessful, you were once more pressed against the wall. The plane was plummeting. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the emergency box. What was this emergency and what in that box could fix this situation?

"You need to return to your seats,” the stewardess said. The smell of smoke was strong and it filled the inside of the plane quickly. You hadn’t even seen the stewardess trying to climb through the plane. Her grip strained on the walls and seats as she fought against the force pushing her back. “We are making an emergency landing." 

The metal sound was louder. Shrieking like nails on a chalkboard, it pierced through the cabin. You watched as the side of the plane ripped completely off with the ease of someone removing the plastic off a new fridge. There was a feeling of being weightless before a drop on a roller coaster, and then it was like your stomach was left behind. The stewardess was sucked out from the cabin behind you. 

You and the young Asian man were sliding backwards down the aisle trying to find something to grab onto. The floor in first class was some sort of linoleum and gave you a nasty burn as you slid. It was like fire against your skin. As the pilot fought with the plane, you practically bounced off every seat. 

It felt like you were weightless for a brief moment as you were lifted off the ground, your back hit the roof before you smacked the floor again. All the wind had been knocked out of you. 

The pilots were fighting against the drop, so in the moment of calm before the plummet, you grabbed the leg of an economy class seat as it was bolted to the ground. You looked at the young man, watching the panic as he realized he was too far away to hold on and dangerously close to the large opening. He began slipping out of the plane, his hands flailing before clamping around your ankle. The two of you were almost hanging outside the plane. 

Everyone in economy class was panicking and wearing oxygen masks. No wonder you couldn’t breathe. Gasping for breath, you cursed yourself for liking all those action movies that made this look easy. 

“Hold on!” You all but screamed more to yourself than the poor guy holding your leg. He was being completely battered by the wind. You felt his hands slipping and you reached down with one hand to grab his wrist and he grabbed yours. He looked thankful.

“Shibal,” he groaned, his voice straining. Your body was being stretched. The cold metal was unforgiving, and it tore apart the skin on your palm. Your eyes were watering in protest to the wind and smoke that was drying them out.

The drink trolley that the stewardesses had been moving through the aisles had gotten loose and went flying down the plane. It hit an old man in the back of the head. You knew he wouldn’t make it, and speaking of, it was headed straight for you. You watched in fear, like some horrifying game of chicken as the trolley came for you. Thankfully, it bounced on the floor inches from your hand and flew out of the plane. 

It was a mix of flinching and the force of the wind that made your hand on the chair slip. You slid further out of the plane, grabbing the exposed shell of the plane with your free hand. Your other hand desperately clutching the young man's hand watching in horror as he smacked into the side of the plane unconscious. “Shit!” 

His body was limp and you had to do something. With all the strength you had, you tried to pull his flailing form closer to protect him. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the ocean quickly advancing. You were going to hit the water.

The breeze pressing against you was fierce. Your eyes were dry, making you think of your eyedrops in your carry-on luggage. You could see the water coming up quicker now; you tried to gauge what would be a survivable height. Knowing you had a higher chance of surviving freediving as opposed to hanging halfway from the plane, where you would both slam head first into the plane. You decided to take the leap.

Screaming in absolute terror as you watched the fast approaching water, you let go just in time. It was equivalent to a few stories on a building from the ground. Wrapping him in your arms, you pointed yourselves down deciding to break the fall. Lifting your free hand above your head like you were doing a high dive, you hit the water. It was such a shock, the liquid was so cold it caused your muscles to lock up.

Your adrenaline was pumping, and one of your arms felt numb and unresponsive. You swam oddly to the surface, gasping when you felt the air on your skin. He was unconscious, and you held his face out of the water.

The plane wasn't too far away and for now was on the surface of the water. The emergency exit inflatable slide, which doubled as a raft, had been deployed but no survivors seemed to climb out.

You swam in a side stroke to keep your damaged arm and the young man's unconscious form out of the water. You hoped he was going to be okay. The only thought in your head was making it to the raft and you were doing everything in your power to get there, even contemplating leaving him behind. But you weren't going to give up, a part of you wanted to prove you could do it.

Reaching the raft felt euphoric. Taking a deep breath you pushed him into the raft. Doing a quick check of his head and body, you noticed he was breathing oddly. You turned him on his side and tried to clear his airway. A little bit of water trickled out before you performed CPR.  Your saving grace came when he coughed and spluttered, placing him in the recovery position and hoping he would be okay on his own for a moment. You looked around for any more survivors. There was luggage floating around, and you picked up all you could from the water. 

Walking along the inflatable back into the plane, the water was not as high in first class. This was probably due to the hole in the plane in the economy. The right side being the only one of the inflatables that had inflated beside the plane. Keeping the plane precariously afloat balancing on two inflatables which had malfunctioned and inflated under the plane.

Moving quickly and wading through the icy water, you grabbed the emergency kits on the wall. You had passed by deceased passengers and tried not to look. It was eerie and unbelievable even though it had only just happened.

Bags littered the water and you guided them towards the exit and put them on the raft. You could save these people's possessions for their family, or there could be items inside that could be of use and save your life. 

You also noticed the flight attendant area and raided the cupboards as quickly as you could. You grabbed the medical kit, some slippers, a range of very thin blankets that were wet and even some snacks carrying everything back to the floatation rafts. As an afterthought you braved a second trip back into the plane to grab your and the other man’s overhead luggage as you knew he would likely appreciate it.

Finding a bunch of cell phones floating around the cabin. You grabbed them all hoping one would be waterproof. You found a few that were still turned on, but only one seemed to have some sort of signal. The plane creaked as you started making the emergency call. 

“Come on” you begged the phone to connect. The whole plane creaked again and tilted; it wouldn’t last long. You had desperately searched for survivors but there was no one obviously alive. You tried your best to check their vitals, but time was running out. Hopefully, you wouldn’t be cursed for pronouncing everyone dead.

"Hello, this is an emergency service hotline?" A voice cut through the silence, you looked at the phone about to cry in relief "fire, ambulance or police"

"Hello, we were in a plane crash, my name is y/n, we were on a flight from Los Angeles to Seoul"

"What is your location?" the woman said, confused by your description.

"The ocean" you hissed "we are on a life raft"

"How many people are with you, what are their names?"

"Just one. I don't know his name. He is asian. Um really thin, um, has dark hair and—”

"You seem to be breaking up" the emergency operator said with the voice cutting out. You looked down at the phone in your hand and sighed. Of course, if everything was going wrong, a phone in the middle of the ocean apparently won’t save you. You thought to yourself, ‘it is 2021 so why isn’t service available everywhere?’ Pocketing the phone you began making your way out the plane.

You headed back to the inflatable and made the decision to cut the plane free. Scared that it would bring the raft down with it. Grabbing more luggage from the water, you thought it best not to watch the plane sink. It would only make you feel worse.

The time went by slowly. It took hours for the plane to disappear. Even though you had promised yourself not to look, you had. Taking glances as the plane slowly sank and you drifted further away. 

The moment the plane was no longer in sight, you curled up and let the tears fall. The sun began setting and the heat turned into a bitter cold. Your wrist was still quite swollen, and you decided to wrap it as you drifted along. You had been so sure that there would be something or someone to see you drifting, and you would be saved. 

However one cold night became two, and then three, only breaking for the scorching heat of the day. 

You thanked yourself for watching all those ‘lost on an island’ movies and television shows; you had learned some things along the way. You also had your father to thank for always dragging you along to the volunteer emergency services programs, ones where you learned how to survive in a forest. At the time you thought it was super lame for your friends to go to nice hotels by the beach for their holidays and you were making some sort of mealworm dish while making stick shelters.

Going over the information you had in your head, you knew water was the priority. The instructor had said humans can go three weeks without food, three days without water, three hours without shelter and three minutes without air. 

The sun would dehydrate you quickly. You had made a small shelter with luggage and blankets to protect you from the sun. 

If you didn’t find land, you were going to have to make some sort of man-made evaporation device to create water. As it was, you were slowly getting the unconscious young man to drink little amounts of bottled water, for he too needed to stay hydrated. 

The man you were with had awoken the third day. He seemed a little freaked out about being alone at sea. You explained calmly, not wanting him to do anything drastic and he sat there processing things. 

You gave him a bottle of water and something to eat. The two of you continued drifting, not speaking a word to one another. You spent most of the time trying to craft something to float on the ocean and create clean drinking water. 

(This evaporation device floats on the ocean and mimics rain by the water droplets sticking to the plastic cover over the whole device when weighted in the middle it then drips back down into a bottle. I can find a reference picture if you need. [Here] [Here] [This one is like what I made in 7th grade camp])

But you couldn’t get the water to land in the bottle and the bottle to stay upright. He was no help, just laying in the shelter out of the sun. The raft was big enough for about one hundred and thirty people. And yet, the two of you sat close by and didn’t say a word.

You were covered in sweat and felt absolutely disgusting. It was time for you to get changed. What a stupid way to die, not from dehydration, or malnourishment, or even sun exposure, but from lack of hygiene. It was decided. 

“I am getting changed, don’t look,” you breathed, opening your carry-on bag.

“I don’t want look,” he muttered back in English and turned away. You quickly put on something that covered your shoulders and tried getting some rest. You didn't want to alarm him, but you both had consumed the last of the water and food rations.

It was late that night when you heard a different sound. The raft was moving a lot more. These were big waves and a part of you hoped it was not a tsunami or whale activity.

When the sound got louder, you were reminded of the beach when waves crashed on the sand. Looking up, you saw something big approaching. It was a body of land. Suddenly, your chances of survival greatly increased, now that you had a way to get out of the water. Nervous about putting your hands in the pitch black water, you looked at your companion peacefully sleeping and made the decision to paddle slowly. Anything to increase your chances of getting to safety. You eventually washed up on the beach, arms aching and stepped out to drag the raft onto the sand.

It was late and still dark, but you had to do something. Thinking that perhaps if you found someone, you would both be saved straight away. You waited on the raft until the sky lightened, and then you got to work collecting sticks and starting a small fire. You took the empty water bottles, hoping to find a clean water source or some fresh water that you could boil.

You walked to the highest point in sight, not seeing any signs of large predatory animals was a good sign. When you reached the top, you felt a sense of satisfaction as you had overcome the many trials and tribulations. You made it through a plane crash, survived on the water, and made it to land. 

Looking around, you saw something bone-chilling. This was an island and judging by the lack of people, houses or establishments, it was uninhabited. There was no civilization to be seen. You saw the tufts of smoke from your fire and tried not to cry. You were stuck here until someone could rescue you. 

Pushing the minor breakdown aside, you thought about water, it was important. Scanning the island, there seemed to be a small waterfall and tiny lagoon at the bottom. Since the rain, the waterfall was running pretty fiercely. You mapped out a path back to the beach which would detour past the waterfall.

By the time you reached the beach, your arms were exhausted with the weight of the now filled water bottles. He was awake and briskly brushing his reddened cheeks with his sleeves, turning his back to you. Sympathising with the man who probably thought you died, fell overboard or abandoned him.

You pulled out the metal pot from the plane and began boiling the water, in an attempt to kill any bacteria in it. The tide was going out. you knew you should be thinking about food as the next priority, but you wanted to sleep. Being primarily awake for a few days was taking its toll.

It took everything in you to get yourself to move and get to work. Taking large rocks, you carried them into the water until you were knee-deep. You were building a V- shaped wall, so when the tide came in, it brought with it fish and when the tide went out, they would be trapped. 

Pouring the now cooled water into the bottles, you started thinking about your plan. First, you thought about short-term needs, in case you were rescued soon, and then long-term needs, in the event you weren’t rescued for months or perhaps years. You paused, forcing yourself to think and accept the fact that there was a chance you would never be rescued.

The Asian man had gotten up and looked around hopefully. Handing him a now clean and sterile bottle of water, you frowned looking around with him. "There is no one here." He didn't say a word, staring at you while drinking slowly.

You huffed, trying to figure out how you two could survive on an island. He watched you fuss around trying to make a shelter out of sticks but it collapsed everytime. 

“Just no,” he muttered. You tried not to openly sneer at him. Grabbing the raft, you dragged it across the sand. As the raft was built for a large group, it seemed all you were doing was digging your feet into the sand. But little by little it was dragged up the beach thanks to the tide. It took some convincing but you had gotten help from the young man. The two of you madly struggling to lift the inflatable slide to a tilt against a tree. It was still inflated so you hoped you could use it for something else if needed.

Before the tide came in that evening, you ran out to the water. Your hopes were crushed when you found no fish and saw that the wall had broken. Carrying more large rocks into the water and making the V bigger and stronger, things weren't looking great, but you were trying to do your best. Cold from splashing around in the water, you went back to the shelter, but the fire had gone out by this point. 

Looking at the young man, you let out an exasperated sigh. Did he not care for his life or yours? Contemplating while gathering more wood, you realized that you had been doing all the work, while he was just lazing around. “We need more wood, come help,” you gestured for the young man to follow, but he sneered at the thought and leaned away from you.

“I just lay uh here and wait to…” he thought over his words, slowly forming an English sentence “die or be rescue,” he mumbled. You were too exhausted to argue. It could wait until tomorrow, and you would both freeze tonight. Maybe then he would understand the importance of working together towards a goal.

You felt absolutely disgusting. hearing the loud patter of rain, you walked down the length of the shelter. On one side was the raft, and on the other was the luggage, built into a wall. You took out some clean clothes and stepped into the rain. Peeling off your seawater and sweat drenched clothes, you stood in the dark and tried washing your body with a tiny travel soap you had found in a bag. 

You scrubbed your body of sweat and turned back to the shelter. Grabbing your towel, and wrapping it around your body, you stepped inside. He was laying on the makeshift bed you had prepared. He looked over, and when he saw you just in a towel, he rolled away. It was embarrassing, you who loved privacy and comfort were showering all exposed in the rain and getting changed in the same vicinity as a stranger. That night, he took the only dry blanket, so you laid there with wet hair and damp skin, shivering. 

You were thankful for the sun rising, and it took a few minutes for you to thaw enough to move, but when you did, you deemed it time for him to do some work. The two of you gathered sticks and leaves. He barely helped, and when he got back, he laid back down and fell asleep in the shelter.

Building a fire, with the wood, took some time as it had rained the night before. The leaves helped fuel the flames. The fire didn't have to be amazing, you just needed it for warmth. You also hoped some rescue teams might even see the faint smoke.

At the sound of your stomach calling for sustenance you got up and went to check the rock wall you made and found a fish swimming in the shallow water. You grinned, carrying it back making sure to stoke the fire. You were doing your absolute best with the emergency kit knife.

You must have looked pitiful, as your companion took over, filleting the fish with ease, and he even cooked it. The two of you had fish for breakfast and you felt satiated. You took some of the supplies and got ready to set out for food and fresh water. He was dressed and trying to follow you, so you let him carry some of the empty bottles.

Except he wasn't cut out for endurance, he got winded quickly. It reminded you of the time you passed out during a school marathon. Yet you made the best of the situation that you could, walking slowly until you came across some sort of fruit that the birds were eating.

You took a couple of pieces of rotten fruit and then carefully dug up the small plant and began carrying it back. He followed you back. You placed the plant down. Using your hands you tried to shift the dirt until you had a decent hole where you could plant the little fruit tree. Watering it with some of the water you had collected from the lagoon, internally wishing the plant would flourish. It was hard pouring the fresh water on the plant but you had to if you wanted food.

You mapped out an area and put sticks in the ground in a box-shape, in hopes of starting a garden of any edible plants found throughout the island.

You took the old fruit you collected off the ground, put it around the bottom of the tree, and gave a small hopeful sigh. “Hopefully it will break down in the soil and feed the plant. Our fate is in your hands little plant”

You spent another night sleeping in the makeshift shelter and had to decide on what to do, so you sat up and turned to the young man.

"Hey, are you awake?" He sat up, his eyes narrow, "what do we build? Shelter? or a garden for food?"

He blinked before choosing "Shelter?” you giggled at his confusion, not trying to be rude. He knew more English than you knew Korean and that was definitely a feat.

“A home”

“Home, food later" he shrugged

It rained heavier, bringing with it a sense of sadness. There was no one waiting for you, no one looking for you. The tears began falling and you tried to stifle the sounds. He was still and you hoped he didn’t hear the breakdown. You hoped he was sound asleep as this seemed to be his skill. You were sadly mistaken; he wasn’t asleep. He moved and draped a blanket over you. He only drifted off when you exhausted yourself from crying.

Waking up with your back pressed to his back, the two of you had shared a few airplane blankets. Your body was aching, from sleeping on the ground. It was time to build the shelter both of you had been discussing. You needed someplace safe from the elements and a place with some sort of makeshift bed. Sand felt so soft, but was uncomfortable to sleep on.

Standing in the morning breeze, you began thinking: “How does one even build a house?” If people can make houses with only the land, then so could you. You had no excuse.if it didn’t work, you could try again until you figured it out. You knew there should be some sort of foundation. You could build between two trees, or with a big pillar in the middle, or four walls like a traditional home. Whatever you were going to do, you needed the materials, namely wood, but it’s not like you could just rip a tree out of the ground with your bare hands. You needed tools. Unfortunately, this island didn’t have a hardware store. This wasn’t like minecraft; you couldn’t just create perfect tools from nothing. Or, could you?

You got to work trying to make some sort of mock Stone Age axe. It gave you blisters, but you had successfully chopped a single tree down. Getting the hang of chopping the trees with your primitive tool, you had four trees ready on the seventh day. You dug holes in the sand, but it wasn’t holding the trunks at all. They kept toppling over. He told you it wouldn’t work, and you only huffed in response. 

You would have to dig, until you found harder ground. This took another week, but you had four tree trunks in the ground in a modest square. You had started feeling dizzy while working, and your head felt clouded. It had been raining ever since you arrived, every night and lightly throughout the day, you didn’t think you had felt warm in a few days.

While making a wall frame out of trees, you started to feel dizzy again. You tied together the thin logs with multiple vines, and you hoped they would stay. The more you worked, the more your hands got torn up. 

You were tying the last of the frame, when you felt your body grow heavy. You were so tired. You thought you would die by the hands of the lazy man. With that, all other thoughts left you as the darkness crept in. 

The shelter was warm. There was a fire, and the blankets were wrapped around you, keeping you warm. Beside you was a bottle of water and a packet of painkillers. “Fever,” he sighed, “all work makes you uh… quick death?”

“Well, at least I am doing something. I have kept you alive, in the plane, in the water and now. I have done everything and what have you done other than act arrogant and lazy?” You said, “You haven’t even told me your name. We are stranded on an island. Maybe we will be rescued tomorrow, and it will be all in vain but what if it’s not tomorrow? What if it's months or a year from now?”

“What if never safe?” He argued, not looking at you.

“The point is, I don’t want to die in my twenties. I don’t want to die in general. I had dreams, to get married, have a family and be a loving wife. I was working a stupid office job, and I loved it. I won’t give up that dream. I will live with the hope that one day we will be rescued, and I will keep us alive goddamn it.”

“You don’t need to worry about me.” He gave a dry laugh, “I have no care. I was not… supposed be on the plane.”

“I need you alive. I can’t do this on my own. If-” You took a deep breath, “If you die, I might do something stupid. I can’t live an undetermined number of days on my own”

He went quiet. 

“Think about someone else for a change, it’s not all about you, Mister Asshole.”

“Yoongi,” he mumbled

“What?” You asked, too tired to be mad.

“My name is Yoongi.” He left the shelter, and you were left sobbing in the dark.

You woke up to Yoongi cooking fish on the fire; you were not expecting it. He hadn’t really done anything to help you. He mostly sat around, but the two of you ate together before you got to work. It was after a few hours you noticed Yoongi was gone again. It disheartened you that he was off doing whatever again, while you were working. You were completely exasperated by the young man, he maddened you, always on your mind. He was hot and mysterious and you hate that you couldn’t stop thinking about him because he acted nice once.

You began opening the suitcases hoping you wouldn’t offend anyone by going through personal belongings of the deceased. Clothes in all different sizes mens and womens, all different styles and one suitcase broke you, filled with tiny onesies and cloth diapers, dummies and ointments and medicines for a tiny baby. A pretty purple rattle with a cute butterfly on the handle.

You slammed the suitcase shut and pushed it across the sand to look at another day but for now you needed to step aside, the wound was too fresh. These were real people who died and yet why did you two survive, the most unlikely pairing with the worst odds and yet you survived when countless innocent lives were lost. It wasn’t fair.

A few days had passed, and you were trying to create something sturdy enough to withstand wind and rain with a roof and walls. You had plenty of resources, but you had to pick the right ones that would last. 

You thought about it and decided to use the raft to line the inside of the house in the tarp-like material. It was super long, so you could do the roof and the four walls and still have the whole underside left over. You would weave leaves and sticks together to make them sturdier and layer them on the outside. 

Putting your plan to action seemed easy yet tedious. You collected long palm leaves, removed the spines, and weaved the leaves tightly together, and laid them on the floor. The more you weaved, the faster you got. Painstakingly working every day, you rejoiced when all four walls, roof, and floor were finished and stable.

While you were doing all this, Yoongi was nowhere to be seen. He returned at night, as he always did. He looked unbothered by all the work you had accomplished that day. You finished up, and the two of you ate and went to bed, which was just a collection of woven leaf mats covered in some of the leftover tarp from the raft.

You had moved the items from the shelter into the new house area. The two of you sat on the remaining raft fabric. “I made a bed out of leaf mats and covered it in the leftover material.” 

Yoongi seemed impressed looking around, “잘 했어.”

“Jal haess-eo?” you repeated the sounds “What does that mean?”

“Uh… good work” He took your hands and pulled out a small succulent leave from his pocket snapping it and squeezing out the liquid inside. Applying it to the cuts and scratches on your hands gently. You noticed his hands were rough too, for he had cuts and blisters littering the his palms as well. 

“Where did you find aloe vera?” you asked curiously. What had he been doing?

“Near the…” he made an action with his hand “폭포”

“The what?” You laughed, and he cracked a slight smile.

“Water shaaaa!” he made the sound and gesture of water falling. You laughed hysterically. He was so cute, when you got to know him.

“Waterfall?” you prompted, checking that was what he had meant.

“Ah waterfall!” he nodded, “Near the waterfall”

“What did you call it?” you said. You were genuinely interested. He had been trying his best to communicate with you in your language, so maybe you could learn some of his to ease the burden “Pog-o”

“폭포” he corrected. 

“Pogpo” You smiled at him. he seemed a little happy that you were giving his language a try. “How do you say good night?”

“안녕히 주무세요” he said and you blinked shocked, so he grinned,speaking slower in syllables “Ann-yeong-hi ju-mu-se-yo.”

“Annyeonghi,” you repeated. He seemed eager to teach you more, so you stayed up as long as you could, learning Korean phrases until you both fell asleep.

[Part 2/2] coming soon...

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[earliebirb]

Hey, I hope you are having a nice day. If you're taking any asks, may I request for a cuddly needy Steve insisting on being close to Tony all the time. Like not letting him out of bed in the morning or making Tony sit on his lap during movie nights. That kinda stuff. Please, please consider writing this one. Thank you!

Hello, Anon. Thank you for the prompt. Cuddly and needy Steve is my favorite.

Have some tooth-rotting fluff in honor of my birthday! 🎂🥳🎉

keep me warm

steve/tony, fluff, established relationship, 4015 words

Steve will take any and every opportunity to touch and be as physically close as possible to his husband, thank you very much.

(Or, five times Steve demonstrates that physical touch is very much his love language and one time Tony seeks him out for it.)

(1)

Tony wakes to the sunlight shining in his face. He groans, instinctively hiding his face back in his pillow. The light feels too warm and bright for early morning sun and a quick glance at the digital clock sitting on his nightstand confirms his suspicions: It’s ten minutes to eleven.

Upon seeing the date and time on the clock, the first thought that crosses his mind is of the numerous tasks he has to finish that day. He sighs a long, drawn-out, and heavy sigh. He hasn’t been feeling his best for the past few days and he has the horrifying suspicion that even his ultra-workaholic self is teetering on the edge of a full-fledged burnout. Between SHIELD, Stark Industries, and the Avengers, he has no shortage of work to do. This is definitely not the time for burnout. His only saving grace for the day is the fact that Pepper has allowed him to come in the afternoon. 

Closing his eyes, he relishes the brief yet sweet escape from reality, pretending just for a few moments that his day is blissfully empty. The work seems never-ending. The only reason he is in bed at all is because Steve had coaxed Tony to come to bed, complaining about how cold he was and steadfastly refusing to sleep without Tony in his arms. 

After a few minutes, he resigns himself to the harsh reality of a busy day and moves to roll out of bed. Except the minute he tries to do so, his body moves further back toward the center of the bed instead of the opposite. Tony blinks at the arm tucked firmly around his middle. A warm weight is plastered against his back, a puff of breath tickling his ear. 

“Steve?”

He gets a short hum in reply, rising at the end in intonation.

“It’s eleven.”

Tony gets another sleepy hum and Steve burrows closer, the cold tip of his nose tucked behind Tony’s ear.

“Why are you still in bed? Did you come back to bed after your run?”

A quiet sigh, and then Steve’s gravelly voice is in Tony’s ear: “Never went.”

“What? Why?”

“Missed you.”

Tony’s lips quirk up into a small smile without his permission. “I never went anywhere, baby.”

“You’ve been busy.”

“Sorry, honey. Work gets crazy this time of the year.”

Steve hums again, lips resting against the back of Tony’s neck.

“And I’m really sorry, baby, but I have to go. More work awaits.”

“No,” Steve mutters decisively, throwing a leg over Tony’s body and pulling him in. 

Tony snorts, amused. “No?”

“No work. You’re mine for the day,” Steve grumbles, arm curling tighter around Tony’s stomach.

Tony strokes the arm Steve has around him soothingly. “Pepper’s going to have my head if I don’t check off at least half the things on my to-do-list today. You want your husband to stay alive, don’t you?”

“I’ve told Pepper to give you the day off.”

“You told Pepper to give me the day off? And she agreed, just like that?”

There is a period of silence, and then:

“There may have been… some flowers involved. And some cupcakes and… bagels sent to her office, along with a—” Steve breaks off to yawn. “A very sweet and carefully worded handwritten note.”

Tony pauses. Then he gasps. 

Turning around in Steve’s arms to take a proper look at him, the ends of Tony’s lips are tugged upwards in a disbelieving grin. 

“Did you— Did Captain America commit an act of bribery?”

Steve frowns, squinting at Tony, sleep still heavy in his eyes. “It wasn’t bribery. It was… a gesture of appreciation.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. Steve stares back at him.

Eventually, Steve sighs in defeat. Tony’s grin widens.

“Fine,” Steve grumbles, shuffling closer to bury his face in Tony’s chest, “it was bribery.”

Tony chuckles, running his fingers through Steve’s soft blond locks. 

“Captain. What would the people say?”

When Steve speaks, his muffled voice comes out rough and near incoherent, speech slurred groggily. “Captain America condemns bribery.” He lets out a content sigh, body melting further into Tony’s. “Steven Stark-Rogers, on the other hand, is not above bribery to get his husband a much-needed day off.”

Tony grins helplessly at his husband’s unfairly adorable antics, leaning down to nuzzle the top of Steve’s head fondly.

“What a menace you are, Mr. Stark-Rogers.”

His husband lets out another noncommittal hum that Tony feels against the bare skin of his chest.

“Go back to sleep, Mr. Stark-Rogers,” Steve mumbles. Tony closes his eyes obediently, slipping back into slumber with ease, a smile on his lips and a newfound lightness in his bones. 

(2)

The sun is shining brightly up in the clear blue sky. The farmers market is bustling with life, with people visiting various tents stationed along the long stretch of road, each offering a variety of fresh produce as well as various finger foods and cold beverages.

The road is also lined by trees on either side, their towering height allowing their leaves and branches to form a natural canopy high up above, effectively shielding people from the sun’s scorching heat. There is even a gentle summer breeze that blows every now and then.

All in all, it’s a wonderful summer day, perfect for an outdoor date.

Now, if only Tony’s husband would stop ruining the day by being a stubborn bastard.

“Steve, this is getting ridiculous.”

“What?”

“Give me a bag!”

“You have a bag.” Steve nods at the bag of red apples Tony is carrying.

Of course, that is nothing compared to the four bags of produce Steve is carrying. He even refuses to distribute the weight evenly between his two hands, insisting on carrying all four bags with one hand and using his other hand to hold Tony’s instead. He tries to reach around Steve in an attempt to grab one of the bags, grunting in frustration when Steve moves the bags beyond his reach. “Steve, your arm’s going to fall off. Just— Give some to me.”

“Tony, your shoulder just barely healed.”

“It’s completely healed. It’s fine, Steve. Just—”

Tony reaches for the bags again only for Steve to catch his arm and bring it back down. “I’ll be fine, sweetheart. I’m a supersoldier.”

“You do not get to pull the supersoldier card right now.”

“Why not?”

“Steven, let me hold some of the bags.”

“You want something to hold? Fine, I’ll give you something to hold.”

Steve reaches for Tony’s arm and secures it around his own waist. Tony glares up at his husband and removes his arm from said waist with a sigh. 

“Come on—”

Letting out an abrupt grunt and doubling over dramatically, Steve clutches his own waist and fakes a pained expression. “Oh, why is my waist suddenly so heavy?”

“Steve, that doesn’t even make any sense—”

“Oh, God. So, so heavy. If only my husband were around to help me hold it—”

Tony rolls his eyes, slipping his arm back around Steve’s waist.

Pulling Tony closer so that he is pressed flush against his side, Steve beams at him, smile bright as the sun. “I feel a lot better now. Thank you.”

He leans down to kiss the tip of Tony’s nose. Tony wrinkles his nose, but he is determined to not let his glare falter.

“Ugh, I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

(3)

“Tony.”

Steve’s face falls the second he sees Tony walking into the study. Somehow, Steve has managed to infuse an impressive amount of frustration into the two syllables making up Tony’s name. 

Tony freezes after having taken a few steps into the room, wide eyes blinking in bewilderment and a mug of hot tea in his hand. He racks his brain to figure out whatever sin he has committed to make Steve’s face crumple up like that—sandy brows furrowed and the edges of his lip tugged down into a displeased frown.

Coming up with nothing, he pads over quietly to the desk and sets the mug of Steve’s afternoon tea down on an empty space between a wooden penholder and a Stark Industries memo pad. Looking up at Tony from his seat in the plush leather office chair, Steve’s frown deepens.

Tony takes a few steps backward, hands raised in surrender.

“Whatever it is I did wrong, I’m sorry, and it’s one hundred percent my fault. Look, I even brought you a peace offering. A cup of tea to make you feel all warm and cozy?” Tony flashes him a wide, placating grin, gesturing to the mug sitting on the desk. Never mind that Tony has been bringing Steve his tea everyday for years now.

Not even sparing a glance at the mug of steaming English Breakfast, Steve stands up wordlessly.

Slowly, Steve begins walking toward him, eyes on Tony and frown still in place.

“What? I said I’m sorry.” 

Steve continues to walk toward him and Tony continues to walk backward until he feels his back hitting the wall.

“Honey, please—”

Slumping forward, Steve buries his face in the crook of Tony’s neck with a grunt, hands coming to rest on Tony’s waist.

“...Honey?”

“How am I supposed to get any work done if you walk around the house dressed like this?” Steve whines.

“What—” Tony blinks, looking down at his own attire—or rather, the lack thereof. Having just woken up from a nap, he is dressed only in his boxer briefs. A laugh bubbles up his throat, his entire body shaking with it. “Steven.”

“Don’t you ‘Steven’ me,” Steve grumbles.

“I don’t walk like this around the house all the time. I just woke up, honey.” Tony chuckles, hand coming up to bury his fingers in Steve’s hair, massaging his scalp lightly. “Go and finish your paperwork.”

“You can’t expect me to get any work done after seeing you like this,” Steve says, almost mournfully, nuzzling the delicate spot under Tony’s ear and sending a shiver down Tony’s spine. 

“Shut up, you sweet talker. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before. Also, you have to finish your paperwork. We have dinner plans, remember?”

“Can we cancel dinner?” Steve asks hopefully. He runs his index finger along the boxer briefs’ elastic waistband and Tony squirms, ever ticklish.

“We can’t, darling,” Tony says, soft and apologetic even as he grins. “We’ve cancelled on Carol and honeybear twice already. They’ll kill us if we cancel on them again, especially if the only reason we’re doing it is because you can’t keep your hands off of me.”

“Your fault for walking around naked.”

“I’m not naked.”

“I can get you naked.” Steve slips his thumbs under the waistband and Tony grabs his wrists, stopping him before things can truly escalate.

“Nope,” Tony says with a breathless giggle, squeezing his eyes shut and resolutely ignoring the delicious curl of heat in the pit of his stomach. “Dinner plans.”

Steve lets out a defeated sigh, stepping back with a pout. “I hate it when you’re being responsible.”

The sight brings a fond smile to Tony’s face and he hooks his fingers under Steve’s chin to drag him into a soft, languid kiss.

“Please,” Tony says before planting another kiss on his husband’s jawline, “you love me.”

“I do, sweetheart,” Steve whispers, blue eyes gazing down at him softly. “I really, really do.”

(4)

When Tony walks into the art studio and sees the floor littered with paintings of different shapes and sizes, he whistles.

“Look at you go, Picasso.”

Steve turns to him, brush in hand, face lighting up like a Christmas tree. There’s a streak of blue paint across his cheek that Tony is tempted not to tell him about.

“Picasso?” The sunlight streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the studio illuminates the entire room. From the doorway, Steve’s blond hair gleams golden.

Tony winces as he steps into the room. “Sorry, did I miss the mark completely? Art’s always been more of Pepper’s thing.” Steve grins, easy and bright. “I know.”

Over the years, Pepper and Steve have cultivated a monthly routine of sorts. They have a standing date—sans Tony—whenever Pepper comes over to visit. Bonding over Tony’s antics and the intricacies of fine art, they get along pretty well, much to Tony’s surprise and delight.

Tony tiptoes cautiously around the studio, taking extra care not to step on any of the paintings Steve has laid out to dry. When seen from up above, the wooden floor of the studio would probably look like some rendition of abstract art, the vibrant colors on the different paintings lying on it coming together to form another picture altogether.

He finally manages to make his way to where Steve is sitting, stationed in front of an easel carrying a piece of stretched canvas which has been painted with streaks of red and gold. He looks around and frowns at Steve. “There’s no place to sit. There’s barely any place to stand.”

Steve looks around to confirm Tony’s observation and laughs sheepishly. “Sorry, guess I got carried away.”

The art studio is always in some state of disarray and it drives Tony up the wall sometimes, if he were being honest.

“But there’s always a place for you to sit, sweetheart,” Steve croons, voice all soft and honey sweet. He curls an arm around Tony’s waist and draws him closer, fingers stained with dried paint of different colors resting on the small of his back. Steve nuzzles his stomach and plants a feather-light kiss on the spot just below his sternum. He looks up at Tony with a child-like grin. “Come sit on my lap?”

“Sap,” Tony remarks, but proceeds to sit down sideways on Steve’s lap, his legs perpendicular to Steve’s. Spotting the smears of colorful paint staining the floor and the painting supplies scattered all around the studio, Tony clucks his tongue in disapproval. “You know this is going to take forever to clean up, right?”

Steve’s grin widens and he starts trailing kisses along the column of Tony’s neck. “Maybe this was all part of an elaborate plan to get you to sit on my lap.”

Tony snorts. 

“I highly doubt that.”

(5)

“Sweetheart?”

“Hm?” Tony’s eyes are glued to his armor as he circles it to inspect the damage from all angles, the suit looking slightly worse for wear. Nothing that a little tinkering and a new paint job won’t fix, but the real problem lies within. He had experienced a brief glitch with his right repulsor mid-battle and he is hoping that he will be able to pinpoint the source of the problem immediately after JARVIS finishes running diagnostics.

“Come here for a second?”

Tony walks to where Steve is lying down on the workshop couch, long legs stretched out comfortably along its length. He beckons Tony closer.

“Come here, I need to tell you something,” he whispers, like someone who is about to divulge a monumental secret.

Tony bends down obediently. Steve reaches up to cup Tony’s cheeks in his hands, leaning close until their noses are brushing against each other.

“You look really good in a tank top.”

The corner of Tony’s mouth jerks upward in an amused smile. “You just called me over to say that?”

“Well, no. I also wanted to do this.” Steve promptly hooks his arms and legs around Tony and pulls him down.

Letting out a surprised yelp, Tony lands on top of Steve’s body. Steve grins smugly before tilting his head to growl playfully in his ear. “Caught you. You’re trapped now. Good luck escaping.”

Tony tests Steve’s hold. Steve’s limbs tighten their hold in response. Hiding a smile in Steve’s chest even as he sighs, Tony says:

“Steven, darling, love of my life. As much as I’m enjoying this, I’m afraid that my broken armor isn’t going to fix itself.”

“Shhh,” Steve whispers into his hair, “you look tired. You deserve a break.”

“Baby—”

“Okay, okay. And maybe, I just wanted to hold my husband for a moment. Can we stay like this for a while? Give me one minute.” Steve plants a kiss on the top of his head. “Please?”

“...Okay. One minute. Start the countdown.”

“Sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight…” Steve begins. 

Tony allows himself the luxury of melting into Steve’s arms, relishing the way the solid warmth of Steve’s hold squeezes the tension out of his own muscles.

“Fifty, forty-nine, forty-eight…” Steve’s warm breath tickles Tony’s forehead as he continues to count down. 

“Forty, thirty-nine, thirty-eight…” Eyes closed, Tony focuses on Steve’s voice and the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. 

They stay like that for a while, both of them calm and content, Steve’s hushed voice counting down the seconds the only sound in the room. Time passes by slowly and too quickly at the same time, and the next thing Tony knows, Steve has reached the final ten seconds.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five…”

Then Steve turns quiet. Tony waits, but when Steve doesn’t continue the countdown, he looks up. His husband is already gazing at him, face looking deceitfully innocent.

“Honey?”

“Hm?” Steve says distractedly as he caresses Tony’s right eyebrow with the pad of his thumb. 

“You stopped counting.”

“Oh. Did I?” Steve asks, still maintaining his ridiculous charade. “Sorry, sweetheart. You know how forgetful I am.” His thumb migrates down to Tony’s bottom lip, as does the gaze of his blue eyes. “I am a centenarian, after all. My memory is just not what it used to be.”

Tony sighs fondly. “Continue the count, please.”

“Will do, sweetheart.” Steve smiles. “Thirty…”

“Five.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You stopped at five.”

“I did?” Steve’s smile widens, leaning forward to capture Tony’s lips in a kiss.

“I know what you’re doing,” Tony says against Steve’s lips.

When Steve leans back, his face is all confusion. His blue eyes, however, are teeming with mischief. “And what is it that I’m doing? I told you, sweetheart, I’m just a very forgetful person.”

Tony rolls his eyes before resting his head back on Steve’s chest. 

“Let’s go, soldier.” He pats the side of Steve’s thigh. “Start with five.”

“Sir, yes, Sir. Five, four, three and a half, three…”

“What the—”

“Two and a half, two…”

Tony pokes him in the side.

“One and three-quarters…”

Giving up, Tony breaks into laughter. “Honey.”

“One and a half, one and a quarter, and…”

“Uno. Okay, good job, Captain. Let me go now.” Tony tries to wriggle his way out of Steve’s hold, but Steve’s limbs remain unyielding.

“Shhh. Zero,” Steve whispers. And then:

“Minus one…”

“Steve, no!”

Laughing gleefully, Steve finally releases Tony. “Okay, okay. I’m letting go.”

Tony extricates himself from Steve’s hold. Steve glides his fingers along Tony’s arm as he does—determined to get his fill of physical contact until the very last second—and it ends with him catching Tony’s wrist just before Tony is about to stand.

His warm blue eyes hold Tony’s gaze as he brings said wrist to his mouth, pressing a lingering kiss to the pulse point. Something warm unfurls in Tony’s chest at the way Steve’s every movement screams of his reluctance to let Tony go. 

“Meet me for dinner later?” Steve whispers against his skin.

“Of course, baby. Wouldn’t miss date night for anything,” Tony promises.

With that, Steve lets Tony’s wrist go with a sigh before throwing an arm over his own eyes.

“Now go. Before I change my mind.”

Tony leaves, snickering all the while at his husband’s dramatics.

(+1)

“I need a hug. And a kiss. And I need you to tell me that you love me.”

It has taken years for Tony to be entirely comfortable with asking for affection in such a blatant way, but over time he has learned that doing so—actually communicating his needs and wants—has actually done wonders for their relationship. He desperately needs some loving at the moment—the end-result of a long day of all work, no play, and the worst of all: no Steve.

Plus, there is also the fact that Steve always turns all soft and happy without fail whenever Tony does ask for some affection. 

Steve blinks and turns his head around from where he is crouched in front of the oven, waiting not-so-patiently for his mac and cheese to finish baking. At the sight of Tony sitting atop the kitchen counter, legs swinging lightly and eyes staring back at him expectantly, a slow smile blooms on his face. He stands up and makes his way to Tony. 

Enveloping Tony in his arms, Steve presses his lips to Tony’s temple. Tony scoots forward and wraps his arms around Steve’s broad shoulders, locking his ankles around his husband’s waist like a koala on a tree. 

Pulling back slightly to plant a kiss on the corner of Tony’s mouth, Steve cradles his jaw, thumb rubbing his cheek affectionately. “I love you, sweetheart. So much.”

Then he pulls Tony close again, gently placing Tony’s face back in the crook of his neck. Steve rests his head against Tony’s and sways their joined bodies together slightly from side to side, humming a slow love song that Tony knows he has been listening to repeatedly for the past week. 

Tony inhales and lets Steve’s comforting scent fill his lungs, a mix of his coconut-scented body wash and the laundry detergent they share together. It smells a lot like home. 

For the first time since he woke up in the morning, Tony’s day is finally looking up. 

“This is nice,” Tony mumbles tiredly into Steve’s shoulder. 

Steve hums sympathetically, gradually stopping their swaying. His hand comes up to massage the back of Tony’s neck. “Rough day?”

“Something like that.”

“You did a great job today.” Steve’s fingers are still pressing into his neck in slow, circular motions. “You worked very hard at the office. I love you.”

Lips brushing Steve’s neck as he speaks, he says, “You don’t know that. You weren’t there.”

“There are some things that I just know. For example, my husband worked hard today. My husband did an excellent job today.”

Tony snorts.

“Here’s another example. I didn’t see you at all today, but I knew, I just knew that my husband looked beautiful today.” Steve pulls back, cupping Tony’s cheeks and looking down at him. “And would you look at that,” Steve says, voice hushed with something akin to awe, “I was right after all.”

Tony squeezes his eyes shut. “You are so corny,” he says, in the hopes that his remark would distract Steve from his burning cheeks. Years of being married to Steve and the man can still make Tony blush like no other. He just doesn’t understand how Steve can make all these sappy declarations sound so sincere, so genuine. Like he’s just stating an indisputable truth.

“I am also so very right. You are beautiful.”

“Corny.” Tony keeps his eyes shut.

“Beautiful,” Steve whispers in his ear, warm breath tickling his skin. A fleeting kiss is planted on Tony’s cheek. 

For a few seconds, nothing happens. Hesitantly, Tony opens his eyes. He is greeted by the sight of Steve bending down slightly to meet his eye level, hands planted on the counter on either side of Tony, eyes looking straight into his.

Steve’s smile turns lopsided when Tony meets his eyes.

“Hey there, beautiful.”

Tony punches Steve’s shoulder lightly in protest and buries his face in his hands.

“Jesus Christ, stop. I will hurt you.”

“Hm, feisty. I like it.”

“Please just go check on your food or something,” Tony mumbles miserably, voice muffled by his own hands. “It’s probably burning.”

Chuckling lightly, Steve finally lets him off the hook with a kiss to the top of his head. “Love you, sweetheart. Go shower, dinner will be ready in a minute.”

Tony hops off the counter and makes a hasty escape, lest Steve continue torturing him with more saccharine words that make him want to melt into the floor in embarrassment.

His husband can be so ridiculous sometimes.

(He wouldn’t change it for the world.)

[scriibble-fics]

Untitled: Grindelwald Wins Canon Divergence

Excerpt from the Grindelwald Wins Jily canon divergence fic I'm toying with. I always feel like there's more romance and smut than ~world building~ in my fics, so this is an attempt to rectify that with world building and romance and smut.

On an average Friday in October, at eight in the evening, James Potter’s life changes forever.

Further, all that occurs that day, and all that will occur in the future—good and bad—is Sirius Black’s fault.

After all, Sirius had refused to step outside to sign for the packages for delivery to Potters’ Potions Plus. He hadn’t even offered a very good excuse, just some vague muttering of taking inventory in the stockroom, when in reality, James had never seen him attempt so much as a glance at the books in the seven years they’d spend working for his parents. No, even as he’d watched Sirius’ graceful, loping form disappear from behind the store’s polished counter, he’d known that Sirius had avoided answering the door’s buzzer because he hadn’t wanted to fall into conversation with Alexei, the delivery wizard from Mr. Mulpepper’s Apothecary who always attempted an upsell. He’d left James to it instead, just as he had every week for seven years.

The delivery should have gone just like it had every other week for seven years, and it does, until suddenly it doesn’t.

“Quiet out,” Alexei notes as James skims the thick stack of parchment on the clipboard in front of him. “You ever see the alley this quiet?”

James grunts in return, eyes fixed to the tiny numbers assigned to the prices column. Working alongside his mum, he’s long-since grown used to the way that she can add numbers in her head with the speed of magic. His own mental math comes along slower, and requires more concentration.

Alexei had obviously expected more of a reaction. “Even the shutters are closed most places,” he goes on, bald head tipped back to stare up towards the towering shops that surround them, some surpassing six or seven stories. “And the birds aren’t making a sound. Have you noticed?”

Truly? No. But he’d been stuck inside all day, catering to clientele and doing his best to copy his dad’s easy-going nature and his mum’s head for business, just as he’d spent most days since graduating Hogwarts. A headache had started to form that morning, nestled between his brows, and hadn’t let up since.

“I passed a great mob of people up near the Cauldron.” James hears rather than sees Alexei scratch his beard, his nails scraping across the rough hairs. “Looked like—well, you know how it is, James. Looked like a bit of a rough crowd. Some of it was just Grindel’s Gang, but I’d wager there was a mudblood or two or three mixed up there too, and maybe some others. It’s so hard to say. People go masked just about everywhere these days, so it’s hard to know who fits in where. It’s part of the reason people choose your mum and dad’s shop—people know who they’re doing business with. That’s important.”

“Alexei.” The sharpness in his tone surprises even James, and he lifts a hand to his glasses, pushing them up so he can rub at the corners of his aching eyes. He takes a breath, intent on tempering his tone. Behind him, the tiny shop bell in the doorway of Potters’ Potions Plus tinkles in the faint, cool fall breeze. “Sorry. I’m just trying to concentrate here.”

“Oh, sure, sure. Don’t let me bother you.”

Easier said than done.

“Do you hear that?” Alexei asks a second later, and James’ fingers contract painfully around the clipboard in front of him until his knuckles turn white. “No, seriously, James. Do you hear that?” Only the note of sheer panic in Alexei’s voice inspires James to look up.

He hears it all a moment later.

Screams. Faint, and echoing fainter still, but screams nonetheless. They’d formed a common fixture in Diagon Alley, and an even more common fixture in nearby Knockturn Alley, but had increased even more steadily of late.

“Go,” he tells Alexei immediately, thrusting the clipboard into his arms. “Get the delivery inside and then go, get out of here before—”

Alexei all but throws the clipboard back in return. “I can’t,” he says, his voice cracking. A loud gust of wind bursts through the narrow streets all at once, and the sheets of parchment stand straight up, straining as if to break free. Over Alexei’s head, James watches a huge cloud of smoke join the wind, black as coal and reeking of death. “You have—I need you to sign for it, show that I delivered it—otherwise—”

It’s all almost laughable, Alexei’s insistence and the exchange that follows, those motions of business that they both go through despite the ever-growing closeness of chaos. Truly, James’ mum would have been proud. Or horrified. Or both.

“I don’t have a quill—”

“Here—” Alexei produces a crumpled quill from his pocket—self-inking, praise Godric—one with the feathered tip bent painfully to one side. In several short, jerking strokes, James scrawls his signature to the bottom of the final page. The quill flies through the air as he tries to pass it back to Alexei, in his hand one moment and flickering through the air the next. It vanishes as if Disapparating.

Speaking of Disapparating—

“Shit, shit, shit—” Alexei speaks not for the quill that had fled his grasp, but with a glance towards the sky, as if he feels a change in the air that far surpasses the dark storm clouds that swiftly overtake the promising blue sky. “Shit—do you feel that? It’s—”

“Disapparation wards.” James licks his lips as the cloying smell of smoke drifts ever closer, followed by screams so shrill and piercing that the hair on the back of his neck erupts to stand on end. “Yes, just—go. I’ll get it all inside. You just—”

Alexei doesn’t need more prompting. Lowering his head, he charges off without another word, the clipboard secured under one arm and his face set into a firm grimace.

Although he runs in the opposite direction of the chaos—of the smoke, of the screams, of the wind, of it all—James never sees him again. He isn’t the first person in James’ life to disappear into the night and never return, and he won’t be the last.

Under Grindelwald’s regime, things are just like that.

[kwanisms]

To the Sky 02: the Anniversary

⤑ genre: angst, fluff, smut, steampunk au, sky pirate!Ateez, ateez au ⤑ pairing: Seonghwa x OC ⤑ warning: strong language, alcohol consumption, mentions of: death and religious cults ⤑ summary: Living in the Sky is not always easy, especially when you have a religious sect policing everything you do. One florist, Bang Min-ah, has always dreamed of life outside Arcadia. Little does she know she’s about to find out how very different life is when a group of sky pirates accidentally kidnap her. ⤑ word count: 11.1k (we getting long parts again lmao)

a/n: sorry it’s taken so long to post this, i wanted to hit my goal word count and it’s taken a lot of extra world building to achieve that but chapter two is finally here! and with it comes all the excitement! the pirates have entered the story and everything from here on out changes. as always, thank you for reading! 

✙ series masterlist ✙ previous || next

“This indicates the character is speaking in Korean.” “This indicates the character is speaking in English.” ‘This indicates the character is thinking.’

January 02, NY 263 Morndas, 09:01 Arcadia, Min-ah

“Remind me again why we’re going through with this?” Min-ho hissed as Min-ah walked him through the crowded morning market, a singular destination set in her mind. The sun had already started rising and bathed half the plaza in golden light. On the opposite side of the plaza from where the siblings entered stood a grand building.

“We’ve been over this,” Min-ah said, glancing over her shoulder before darting through a break in the crowd, Min-ho struggling to keep up. “Yes,” Min-ho stated as he kept close on his sister’s tail. “But remind me again,” he added as she stopped, staring up at the building in front of her. Min-ho followed her gaze, eyes widening in realization.

“Oh no,” he whispered, turning to give her a horrified look. She was already smiling at him. Before he could protest further, Min-ah grabbed his arm, dragging him toward the front doors of the Arcadia Historical Archives. She opened the door and shoved him in roughly, following after him.

Inside the door, the siblings were met with the entrance hall of the library, a hallway that wrapped almost all the way around the main room which was large and round. Tall windows stretched from the mezzanine to the base of the domed ceiling, allowing in tons of natural light. 

Sat just inside the round room was the main desk, behind which sat a beautiful young woman with golden blonde hair pulled up into an elegant up-do. She wore an ivory pleated blouse with long sleeves tucked into a floor length gold skirt, a thick black belt at her waist, and a pair of brown heeled boots.

She glanced up as Min-ah and Min-ho walked in, sporting thin wire-rimmed glasses. A look of recognition passed over her face, a smile spreading across her face as she stood up and walked around the desk to greet them. “Good morning, Min-ah,” she said, bowing slightly before looking at Min-ho. “Min-ho,” she added with a nod of her head.

Min-ah glanced out of the corner of her eye as her brother blushed slightly under the woman’s gaze. “Amelia,” he replied as she turned to face Min-ah. “What can I help you with?” she asked. Min-ah smiled at her warmly. “Your Korean has improved, Amelia,” she said and the woman, Amelia, smiled wider. “I’ve been practicing,” she said simply. “What can I help you with?” she asked again.

“Well,” Min-ah started but Min-ho interrupted her. “I need a few books,” he said, drawing attention away from Min-ah and to himself. Amelia’s warm brown eyes locked with his. “What subject are you looking for?” she asked. Min-ah glanced from Amelia to her brother and could tell he was about to falter but was surprised to see him take charge. “G-gardening!” he stammered.

Min-ah, who hadn’t been looking directly at Min-ho, turned her head and stared at him incredulously from behind Amelia’s back. “Really?” she mouthed at him. Amelia seemed not to find his answer the least bit suspicious or weird because she instead smiled wider and beckoned the two to follow her. 

She led the siblings up the nearest steps up to the mezzanine. Min-ah led the way as they followed Amelia along the mezzanine and to an empty table. She gestured for them to take a seat. “What sort of gardening books would you like?” she asked. Min-ah held back a smirk as she looked at her brother, wondering what sort of lie he was about to give the librarian.

“Vegetables,” Min-ho said after staring wide-eyed at his sister. Min-ah’s smirk dropped as she stared at him. “Vegetables?” Amelia asked, not sure she heard him correctly. “Yes,” Min-ho said with more confidence. “Vegetables. The one topic my sister doesn’t have much knowledge on,” he said, looking from Amelia to Min-ah and back. Amelia nodded and turned to peruse the books she had on vegetable gardening. Min-ah leaned forward, having sat next to Min-ho, and slapped him upside the head.

“Vegetable gardening? Are you kidding me?” she hissed. Min-ho leaned forward in his own seat. “You brought me here!” he hissed. “Had I known this was your plan all along, I never would have agreed to come out with you!” he added. Min-ah sat back in her seat. “That’s because you’re too scared to talk to her on your own!” she whispered. Min-ho narrowed his eyes at her. “Am not,” he replied.

Min-ah scoffed. “How mature of you,” she said as Amelia returned with a stack of books. Min-ah nodded at her and Min-ho turned to look over his shoulder. He got quickly to his feet to help Amelia with the books, bringing them to the table. “Thank you,” Amelia said breathlessly as she took a seat next to Min-ho’s spot. He returned to his chair, glancing wide eyed at Min-ah who nodded pointedly as Amelia opened one of the books.

Min-ah stood, walking around the table to look at the books Amelia had selected. She glanced from the books to her brother and the librarian, a small smile forming as she watched the two look over the books. She decided to have a look around, stating she would be right back. She headed away from the table, walking through the aisles of books. While passing an opening in the shelves, she glanced to the side and saw a somewhat taller man with blackish-brown hair.

He wore black leather pants, a loose tunic with a brown vest and a blue and gold brocade coat. He held in his hands a heavy volume. He turned to speak to a man Min-ah couldn’t see. A smile crept over his face as he opened the volume and said something to whomever he was speaking to. Min-ah watched as another man walked out from behind the shelves.

He had light brown hair and wore a white collared tunic with a golden vest and brown leather pants. He too carried a book in his hands, a wide smile on his face. He walked over to where the other man stood and together they looked at the pages of their books. Min-ah watched them for a few more minutes, watching as the darker-haired man walked away, disappearing behind the shelves and leaving the fair-haired man alone. 

He glanced over the pages of the book he carried, before he turned to say something to his friend, snapping the book shut and leaning against the railing of the mezzanine. He laughed at something his friend said before he turned and looked over the downstairs area of the library before his eyes landed on Min-ah. The two stared at one another for a moment. Min-ah felt her heart beat wildly against her ribcage, her breathing speeding up as she stared at the man.

Tearing her gaze away, Min-ah turned around and ducked behind a shelf and out of the man’s view. She took several deep breaths before returning to check on Min-ho and Amelia. Peering around a shelf, she saw they were still engrossed in their own world, looking over the books on vegetable gardening. She smiled before turning away and heading further along the mezzanine.

She came across a roped off section and stared into the darkness of the shelf lined walkway. She glanced over her shoulder before unhooking the rope and stepping into the aisle, hooking the rope behind her. ‘Just a quick peek,’ she thought. ‘It’s not hurting anyone.’

Perusing the books in the dimly lit section, her attention was caught by a very ornate book binding. Moving closer to inspect it, Min-ah saw that it was made of brown leather. She reached up to touch the leather, expecting it to be as rough as it looked. Min-ah was instead surprised to find it was smooth and felt almost like fine silk. “What the hell?” she whispered, pulling her hand back, eyes wide.

Curiosity got the better of her as she let out a breath she was holding and slowly reached back up to grab the book but someone else’s hand beat her to it. Min-ah spun around to see who had managed to sneak up on her. It was the man she had been watching. Seeing him up close, she could get a better look at his features. He had a strong jawline and pointed chin. His lips pulled into a smirk as he glanced at Min-ah before looking down at the book cover.

“What an interesting choice,” he said softly as he started flipping through the pages. Min-ah watched with wide eyes as the man before her continued to peruse the book. He glanced up at her, the look in his eyes giving her chills, before he snapped the book shut and handed it to her. Min-ah felt small and vulnerable in his presence. Maybe it was the height difference or his broad shoulders that made him look taller and intimidating.

“Don’t let anyone catch you with that,” his voice said, pulling Min-ah out of her thoughts. He nodded at the book now clutched in her hands. “People will start to talk and I’m sure a woman of your status wouldn’t want that,” he said in a condescending tone. Min-ah opened her mouth to respond but the man moved quickly towards her, trapping her between him and the shelf as she backed into.

He stared down at her, that same smug grin on his face. “You should get back to your friends,” he said in a low voice. Min-ah didn’t like the tone he used. As if something horrible would happen if she stayed there in that corridor with him. As if he was a dangerous beast and she was his next meal. Without a word, the man backed off and turned to walk away. He stepped over the rope and turned back to give Min-ah one final glance before he slipped out of her sight.

Letting out a sigh, Min-ah lifted a hand to check her pulse, pressing two fingers under her jaw. Her heart was pounding, just as she assumed. She knew that man was dangerous and that she never wanted to meet him again. But then why was she feeling a fluttering in her stomach? Not so much from attraction, but that feeling one gets when they do something they aren’t supposed to. A rush of adrenaline. A thrill. 

Shaking it from her mind, she looked down at the book in her hands and nearly gasped when she read the cover. It was a book about pirates. She set it down on a nearby table and started to hurry away before stopping in her tracks. Min-ah glanced back at the book lying innocently on the flat surface. She worried her lip between her teeth before making a rash, and rather stupid decision to take the book. She made sure no one was looking before slipping the book into her bag.

Min-ah hurried to the end of the aisle, peeking out to make sure the man was gone before she unhooked the rope and exited the section. She hurried back to find Amelia and Min-ho no longer sitting at the table. She searched for her brother as she walked down the steps of the mezzanine and towards the front door. Min-ah was relieved to find Min-ho standing by the front desk, checking out two books.

Min-ah joined him, receiving a worried look from him. Before he could ask anything, Min-ah shook her head, telling him not to worry about her. Nothing else was said as Amelia finished the checking process and handed Min-ho his books, reminding him to return them in a week. Min-ho thanked her before leaving. Min-ah also thanked Amelia, trying to hide her discomfort in her actions.

She followed Min-ho out of the front door of the library and into the still busy town square. Min-ah saw the man from the library outside with his companion once more. He looked over and they made eye contact. His lips pulled into a smile once more as Min-ah descended the steps with Min-ho.

As she stared him in the eyes, a wave of recognition passed over her as she suddenly remembered that she’d seen the man before, or more accurately, after visiting the library.

‘It’s him.’

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January 15, NY 263 Sundas, 05:42 Arcadia, Min-ah

Min-ah woke with a start, gasping as she sat upright. She let out a few coughs, trying to steady her breath. She glanced around the room. It was still dark. Pulling back the covers, she swung her legs over the side of her bed and got to her feet, feeling her way through the darkness to her window to pull back the curtains. On the other side of the glass, she could see the sky was beginning to lighten.

‘Dawn.’ She let out a sigh and began getting ready for the day since she was already up. Min-ah lit a few candles to allow her to see better. As she sat at her vanity, she glanced at herself in the mirror. Realization set in as she recognized the man from her dream. It was the same man who had come by to see her father. She just didn’t realize it at the time. She had seen him that day she had gone to the library with Min-ho. Min-ah shook her head and started focusing on her hair.

As Min-ah pulled the comb through her locks, her mind wandered back to her dream. She remembered the man in her dream. She knew she had seen him. The man from yesterday. She remembered his light brown hair and chiseled jawline. Pushing it from her mind, Min-ah let out a soft sigh and shook her head. "Stop thinking about it," she whispered to herself. "You have more important things to think about," she added.

As she finished combing her hair and pulling it up into a half up-do, a soft knock was heard at the door. Sooyun entered the room, shutting the door behind her softly and walked around the bed. “Are you ready to dress, ma’am?” she asked. Min-ah nodded, standing and turning to head for her closet.

Inside, she chose a dress of dark blue, almost a midnight blue with embroidered silver stars. It had a high neck, long sleeves, and buttons down the back. Small black trims peaked out from the edge of the sleeves. To match, she chose a pair of black boots. Once changed into the dress, stockings on, and boots laced, Min-ah made her way out of her room, heading down the stairs with her hat in her hands.

Upon reaching the kitchen, she saw her father sitting at the kitchen table, looking over paperwork. He looked up as Min-ah entered the room and set the paper in his hand down, offering a rare smile to his daughter. "Morning," he murmured. He knew exactly how important today was to Min-ah. "Is everything all right, father?" Min-ah asked, noticing how exhausted her father looked. He waved his hand lightly. "Don’t worry about me," he said softly.

Min-ah pondered for a moment before finally deciding to speak up.

"Father," she said, glancing at him when he looked up at her. "Yes?" he asked, leaning back in his seat. "A man came by here yesterday looking for you," Min-ah replied. Min-hyuk looked at his daughter, perplexed by her revelation. "Who was it?" he asked. Min-ah shook her head. "I'm not sure. I've only seen him once before but I didn't realize it until this morning," she answered.

"Where did you see him?" Min-hyuk asked her. "The library a couple weeks ago," Min-ah answered, watching her father’s expression carefully. "Did he give his name?" he asked. Min-ah shook her head. "No. He didn't. He just gave me a sealed envelope to give you. He didn't even speak-" Min-ah stated but was interrupted by her father.

"Where is it?" he asked, sitting up straight. "Where is what?" Min-ah asked. Her father frowned. "The envelope, where did you put it?" Min-ah pointed towards the foyer. "I left it with your mail yesterday," she answered. Min-hyuk's face seemed to lose color, worrying Min-ah.

"What was it?" she asked. Min-hyuk shook his hand and dismissed her concern. "It was nothing. Some small company, looking for investors," he answered. "Don't worry about it, my dear."

Footsteps outside the kitchen drew both their attention, causing Min-ah and Min-hyuk to look up as Min-ho entered the room dressed in his best black suit. He glanced from his sister to his father, feeling as if they had just been in the middle of a private conversation. "What?" he asked softly, fidgeting with his bowtie.

Min-ah gave him a warm smile, walking over to help him tie it. "You look good," she said softly as their father went back to his paperwork while Sooyun started making breakfast. Min-ho looked over Min-ah's shoulder and then back to his sister. "What were you two talking about?" he asked.

Min-ah gave her brother a confused look. "I just asked him if he was alright," Min-ah said as she finished tying the bowtie and shaping it. "That's it?" Min-ho asked. Min-ah hesitated, pondering whether or not to tell her brother about the man at the door. She decided to wait until later to tell him. She shook her head. Before Min-ho could inquire, she explained that she would tell him after church.

"You promise?" Min-ho asked to which Min-ah nodded. "Of course. Have I ever broken a promise?" Min-ah asked, looking up at her brother. Min-ho studied her face before shaking his head. "No. You've never broken your promises," he said softly.

The two moved to sit at the table across from one another, their father at the head of the table. Sooyun continued to bustle about the kitchen, serving coffee for their father and Min-ho. Min-ah declined the beverage, asking for juice instead. Sooyun gave her a small smile.

As she was serving their breakfast, Hye-kyo entered the room, wearing her dressing gown, her hair unkempt as she sat at the opposite end of the table as her husband. Sooyun immediately began to serve her breakfast. As she was setting a cup down to pour her coffee, Hye-kyo stopped her.

"Be a dear and make me something a little bit stronger," she said, looking up at Sooyun. The maid stood straight and glanced toward where Min-hyuk sat. He didn't look up from his breakfast. Sooyun gave a small curtsey with a "yes ma'am," and moved to head for the bar.

As she passed Min-hyuk, he reached out and grabbed her arm. Min-ah and Min-ho looked up in shock. Sooyun looked terrified. Min-hyuk looked up at her. "Please pour her a cup of coffee and then go change for service. You can resume your duties when services are over," he said in a soft voice.

Sooyun looked relieved when he let go of her. She returned to pour a cup of coffee for Hye-kyo and then disappeared from the kitchen. Min-ah and Min-ho exchanged glances before looking at their father and then mother, who was now glaring at her husband. "I don't want coffee," she said flatly.

Min-hyuk ignored this and went back to his food. Hye-kyo didn't take well to being ignored. She slammed her hands on the table, standing up quickly. Min-ah glanced at her mother, taking in her disheveled appearance.

"I said," Hye-kyo snarled, "I don't want coffee!" Without missing a beat, Min-hyuk simply replied, "I don't care what you do or do not want. You aren't getting drunk at seven in the morning on the anniversary of our son's death."

Min-ah felt her stomach drop. She slowly looked up at Min-ho who stared wide eyed at his empty plate. She glanced from her father to her mother. She needed to intervene and get Min-ho out of this situation.

Clearing her throat, Min-ah turned to her father. "Father," she said softly. He looked from his plate up to her with a look that told her not to get involved but she persevered. 

"Before I closed shop yesterday, I made a special flower arrangement for Min-ki's grave but I forgot it at the shop," she said plainly. "Would it be alright," she continued. "If Min-ho and I went there on our way to the church to get the bouquet and then we'll meet you and mother there?"

Min-hyuk knew exactly what his daughter was doing. She was getting herself and Min-ho out of the house and he nodded. "I think that would be nice," he replied, lifting his napkin to wipe his mouth. "You two head out. I'll help your mother get ready and we'll meet you at the church," he said getting to his feet and walking around the table. Min-ho got up and headed quickly out of the kitchen.

Min-ah got to her feet and followed suit, not sparing a second glance back at her parents. She found Min-ho waiting for her in the foyer. Grabbing her coat, Min-ah pulled it on over her dress while Min-ho pulled his coat on over his suit. The siblings exited the house without a word into the cold morning. They headed silently toward the town square.

Min-ah wasn't sure if she should say anything but she needed to know that Min-ho was alright. "Min-ho?" she asked softly. He turned to look at her. "Hmm?" he replied. "Are you okay?" she asked as they walked through the empty town square towards her shop. Min-ho nodded.

"I honestly expected her to throw a fit when you said his name," he answered as Min-ah pulled out her keys and unlocked the shop. The two headed inside where Min-ah walked around the counter and grabbed the arrangement she had made. "I did too," she said as she followed Min-ho outside and locked the shop back up. Before Min-ho could say anything, a voice called out to them.

Min-ah and Min-ho looked to see one of the city guards walking quickly towards them. "All businesses are closed until after services are over," he barked at them. "Oh, we were just-" Min-ho tried to explain their situation but the guard wasn't having it. "I don't care what your excuses are," he said angrily. "You should be at home or heading to church," he added.

Min-ah stepped forward, pushing Min-ho behind her. "We were on our way. We just wanted to stop and get this arrangement I made yesterday for our brother's grave," she stated quickly, holding up the flowers. The guard was about to speak when he was interrupted.

"Is there a problem here?" a voice asked. All three turned to see the lieutenant of the guard walking towards them. "Lieutenant Wexley, sir," the city guard said, saluting him. "At ease, Compton," Lucas Wexley replied. Min-ah relaxed as Lucas sent the guard back to his post.

"We were just heading to the church," she explained. She held up the flowers. "I wanted to stop and grab this for Min-ki's grave," she added. Lucas nodded understandingly. "I can escort you to the church if you'd like," he said. Min-ah thanked him and the three of them made their way.

The walk was mostly silent before Lucas spoke. "Today is the anniversary," he stated. Min-ah nodded silently, glancing at Min-ho who said nothing and kept his eyes forward. "A horrible accident," Lucas said as the three continued forward. "It could have been prevented," Min-ho said as the church came into view. Min-ah grabbed his arm.

Before Lucas could reply, Min-ah gave him a kind smile. "Thank you for your company, Lieutenant Wexley. My brother and I have to meet our parents now," she said pointedly. Lucas returned the smile. "Of course, Miss Bang. It was my pleasure," he replied. He then shifted his attention to Min-ho. "Mr. Bang," he said with a curt nod.

Min-ah turned, pulling Min-ho behind her, ignoring the feeling of Lucas' eyes on her. "You can't just go around saying things like that," she reprimanded Min-ho as they hurried up the path towards the church where people were filing into the building. "I hate that guy," Min-ho hissed.

Min-ah rolled her eyes as they joined the line heading into the church. Once inside, the usher guided them to the correct seats where they met up with their parents. Somehow their father was able to bribe their mother into getting dressed and making herself look presentable.

She wore a black dress with white pinstripes to match his suit. She had removed her hat which was made to match her dress. Her hair was brushed, curled, and styled and she had makeup on. Min-ah sat down beside her mother forcing Min-ho to sit beside her instead of their mother.

"Is this the arrangement?" her mother asked, surprising Min-ah. She nodded as her mother took it gingerly and inspected it. She handed it back without a word. Min-hyuk was looking at the front of the church without a word.

Min-ah looked around, inspecting the white marble interior of the church. It was a massive cathedral, hundreds of seats on the main floor and a balcony with more seats allowing the entire city to sit during service. 

The ceiling was close to 30 meters, except inside the dome which was positioned over the altar. The exact inside height of the dome was disputed but rumors were that it stood at almost 18 meters taller than the ceiling.

Min-ah was brought out of her thoughts by everyone around her standing. She stood as well, looking straight ahead as one of the priests stood on a pulpit, looking out over the congregation. Once he had everyone's attention, he nodded, signaling everyone to take a seat.

Min-ah took her seat and looked down at the flowers in her hands as the priest began to speak, thanking everyone for coming. Beside her, Min-ah heard Min-ho snort softly. "Like we have a choice," he whispered. Min-ah tried to hide her smile and she lightly elbowed her brother.

Services continued as usual with the clergy performing their usual rituals of cleansing the congregation, preaching the word of God, and telling the congregation that they will be saved as long as they continue to attend church and believe in the will of God. As it came to a close, the priest called for attention. Min-ah looked up, very clearly done with sitting in the same spot for hours. Min-ho took her hand and gave it a squeeze. Min-ah looked at her brother who gave her a smile.

"Before we leave today and go about our lives," the priest said, his voice solemn despite the fake smile on his face. "Let us remember the tragic incident that occurred nine years ago today." Min-ah felt her breath catch in her throat. She looked over at Min-ho who was staring at the ground.

"Nine years ago, a section of the city that had been deemed unsafe to inhabit was closed off to the public and it was there that a portion of it fell, crumbling off and taking with it a young citizen. Today, we remember Min-ki Bang."

The crowd murmured an 'amen' before services were ended and dismissed. Min-ah stood, following Min-ho with their parents behind them. Once outside of the church, Min-ah felt like she could breathe, taking in the fresh air. She and Min-ho stood off to the side while waiting for their parents.

The four headed for the cemetery to visit Min-ki's grave. Once there, Min-ah replaced the dying flowers with the new arrangement. She and Min-ho stood side by side before their brother's grave, silent. She ignored as other members of the crowd came to offer words of strength and condolences. She didn't care. She knew they didn't really care either. They were doing what they were told to do.

She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts, Min-ah hadn't heard the sounds her mother was making behind her. When she came to, Min-ah turned around to see her mother on the ground, throwing a hysterical fit and one of the other towns women looking completely shocked and mortified. Min-hyuk told her to move along. Min-ah turned away from the scene unfolding behind her. Min-ho hadn't even turned to look.

Unable to stand the sounds anymore, Min-ah turned to help her father but he shook his head. "Go to the market. I'll handle your mother," he said shoving a coin purse into her hand. "There's a list on the kitchen table for you," he added. Min-ah nodded and turned away from her parents, grabbing Min-ho and pushing through the crowd that had started to gather.

"Where are we going?" Min-ho asked. "Father wants us to go to the market," Min-ah said as she led the way back home. Min-ho kept pace with her as they hurried through the empty streets. Everyone was no doubt still at the church watching their mother have a breakdown.

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January 15, NY 263 Sundas, 10:42 the Horizon, Seonghwa

Lifting the glass to his lips, Seonghwa took a sip of the golden liquor he had poured himself what felt like ages ago. The ship had been heading due East for days at this point. Hongjoong had been given the all clear by the Benefactor to sell some of their wares at various sky cities across the world. They had been to a couple already and next on this list was Arcadia.

Seonghwa hadn't been to Arcadia in several years. The last time he was there, he got in trouble with the law when he was discovered in bed with the wife of a guardsmen. He had fled the city quickly, escaping onto the Horizon at the last minute, meeting up with the others. They left the city and hadn't been back since.

Seonghwa vowed from then on to only take women to bed in a tavern or inn and never go to their homes again. He wasn't about to risk his life for a horny housewife.

The sound of shuffling brought Seonghwa out of his thoughts as Hongjoong appeared in the room. Seonghwa ignored him as he continued drinking. "It's not even noon," Hongjoong joked, laughing as Seonghwa cursed at him. The captain poured himself a drink and moved to sit across from Seonghwa. The two said nothing, the older man looking at his younger friend. Finally the younger of the two spoke up.

"I want you to go into the city," Hongjoong said. Seonghwa said nothing, merely stared at the melting ice in his almost empty glass. He knew Hongjoong would ask him to deal with the sales. It was his job after all as first mate. He always took care of the crew's outside transactions. The inside ones were left to the Benefactor.

Hongjoong lifted his glass, staring into the contents. Seonghwa wasn't much of a talker this early in the morning even though it was almost eleven in the morning, but then again Seonghwa wasn't much of a talker in general. Hongjoong sighed, taking a sip of his drink before setting it back on the table, the liquor burning his throat as it slid down. He wasn't done speaking.

"Take San, Wooyoung, and Mingi with you," he added when Seonghwa said nothing. "San and Wooyoung are great at selling and haggling. Mingi can offer protection," Hongjoong continued. Again, Seonghwa said nothing, merely staring at the melting ice in his glass. "Hey," Hongjoong said, catching his friend's attention.

Seonghwa glanced up at Hongjoong, holding the latter's gaze. Hongjoong scoffed, taking another sip. "You gonna say anything?" he asked. Seonghwa shrugged. "I better not see that guardsmen or his wife," he stated. Hongjoong burst into laughter, setting his glass on the table between them. "You have to admit," Hongjoong said. "That was hilarious." Seonghwa frowned at his friend.

"It was NOT hilarious," he replied but Hongjoong continued snickering. "Seeing you leap from the edge of the city onto the deck half naked will forever be engraved I'm my brain," Hongjoong replied. Seonghwa attempted to hide his smile as he scooped an ice cube out of his glass and threw it at Hongjoong who cackled as he dodged it. "Fuck off," Seonghwa chuckled, picking up his glass and finishing his drink. "I'll take the others to the market but don't expect us to sell much," he said getting to his feet.

He glanced down at Hongjoong and grabbed his empty glass. "The people of Arcadia are stingy and have no taste," he added, pointing at Hongjoong before moving to pour himself another drink. "Duly noted," Hongjoong chuckled as he took another sip from his own glass. Seonghwa returned to his seat, lifting his feet to rest them on the table. "Take the hairpin," Hongjoong said suddenly.

Seonghwa looked up. "The Sakura Pin?" he asked, uncertain he heard his captain correctly. Hongjoong nodded. "See what you can get for it. But don't accept less than a million," he added. Seonghwa snorted into his drink. "A million?!" he asked incredulously. Hongjoong nodded. "If someone wants it that badly, they'll pay."

Seonghwa shrugged his shoulders again. "I guess," he added. Hongjoong chuckled again. "Trust me, they will." The two were still talking about prices of the hairpin when San entered the room. "What are you two bickering about now?" he asked as he moved to sit down at the table, Wooyoung and Yunho following behind him.

"We aren't bickering," Seonghwa retorted. "Sure sounds like it," Wooyoung said as he poured himself a drink as well. "We don't bicker," Hongjoong added. "We were discussing prices."

"Prices of what?" Yunho asked as he sat next to San, leaving the last seat beside Seonghwa open for Wooyoung. "The Sakura Pin," Hongjoong answered. "Which reminds me," he added, turning to look at San and Wooyoung. "Do not accept anything under a million for that hairpin, am I clear?" he asked. Wooyoung choked on his drink, causing San to give him a couple thumps to the back.

"A million?!" Yunho exclaimed. Hongjoong nodded. "That pin is extremely rare. It's an authentic piece and not the fake. A million is the lowest we go," he replied. San nodded. "Sounds fair," he answered. "If someone wants it badly enough, they'll pay that amount," he added. Hongjoong smiled, turning to look at Seonghwa who rolled his eyes and lifted his glass to his lips.

"See?" Hongjoong said, raising his hand and gesturing toward San who smiled widely. "What did I say?" Seonghwa rolled his eyes and downed the rest of his drink. "Oh, shut up," he retorted.

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January 15, NY 263 Sundas, 11:00 Arcadia, Min-ah

Upon arriving home, Min-ho unlocked the door and led the way in. Min-ah hurried into the kitchen and grabbed the list that her father had left on the table. Once she had it in her hands, she glanced over it. 'Eggs, milk, meat, cheese, vegetables, and bread,' she read. And written at the bottom in her father’s handwriting was a note that read 'and buy something for yourself as your birthday is coming up.'

Min-ah returned to Min-ho with the list and the two headed back outside. Min-ah noticed that most of the townspeople had made their way back into town now, no doubt her father and the church were able to disperse the crowd. Min-ah was thankful but it didn't stop random people from staring at her as if expecting her to randomly lose it as well.

She did her best to ignore the stares and was relieved to see most of the market had been set up. The siblings went through the stalls, buying items off the list. They stopped by the last stall, a vegetable stand and Min-ah told Min-ho which vegetables father liked.

Her attention was drawn elsewhere as her brother looked through the vegetables on the table. She looked through the crowd spotting a familiar face she had seen yesterday and again in her dream last night.

She turned to watch as the man she thought was the same that visited yesterday. As he looked over his shoulder, she was disappointed to see it wasn't the same man. She let out a huff and began to turn back to the vendor when something else caught her eye. 

A table not far from where she stood full of all types of combs, jewelry, and other sparkly and shiny items. Min-ho paid the vendor for the vegetables and turned to Min-ah.

"We got everything on the list?" he asked but his sister didn't respond. "Min-ah?" he asked, drawing her attention away from the table and the four men behind it. "Hmm?" she hummed. Min-ho glanced toward the table before smiling. "Father did say to buy yourself a present," he murmured. Min-ah turned her head to meet Min-ho's gaze, a smile already present on his face.

The siblings headed toward the table, passing through the crowd easily. As they approached, a particular ornate hairpin caught Min-ah's attention.

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January 15, NY 263 Sundas, 11:27 Arcadia, Seonghwa

"We shouldn't be out in full view like this," Wooyoung hissed to San as the latter set out several hairpieces on the table. Mingi was off to the side, lost in his own thoughts while Seonghwa was inspecting the items on the table.

"Wooyoung, stop worrying. People are less likely to suspect anything if we're out in the open like this," San said softly as he adjusted a few hairpins. Wooyoung shook his head and turned away from San to look at Seonghwa.

"Hwa," he started but Seonghwa held up his hand. "I heard you the first time, Wooyoung. Sit next to Mingi and leave the worrying to me," the older man said. Wooyoung exchanged glances with Mingi as the red head looked up at the mention of his name. Wooyoung sighed and moved to sit down.

Seonghwa finished calculating the value of all the items in his head, nodding to himself before glancing up. His eyes fixated on a face in the crowd. Seonghwa had never seen someone so beautiful in his life. 

She was short with a slim figure. She wore a midnight blue dress with silver stars with a similar dark blue jacket. Her dark brown hair fell in soft waves down her shoulders, half of it pulled up into two twin combs he couldn't see under her matching blue hat. She carried a small bag, strap wrapped around her wrist.

He tore his attention from her clothing where his eyes fixated on the smoothness of her skin. Her complexion was much fairer than his, showing she had never worked a day of her life outside. The curve of her cheek dip down to meet a soft and rounded chin. Her nose was small and slightly upturned at the tip making it look like a button. Cute was the only word that came to his mind.

Her cheeks had a natural rosy hue to them that extended to the bridge of her nose. A natural flush to her light honey toned skin. Her eyes were the softest brown Seonghwa had ever seen and they were full of curiosity and wonder, something he'd never seen from a woman of her obvious station.

It gave her an overall youthful glow. Her hands were small and dainty as she reached out to gently touch several of the hair ornaments, no doubt inspecting the quality of each item that caught her eye. A smile was present on her face as she browsed their stolen wares. Would she know they were stolen? And if she did know, would she willingly pay for stolen goods? He didn't know.

He watched as she turned her head to look at the man beside her. Seonghwa had been so engrossed in studying the woman that he hadn't even noticed the man standing to her left. He was no doubt her fiancé if not her husband.

He was noticeably taller with a lighter shade of brown hair. He wore a nice black suit and carried a bag, presumably with their purchases inside. The woman began looking through the items on the table, one item in particular but Seonghwa didn't pay attention to which item it was. He had to stop staring before he got into trouble like last time. He was not above wooing a married woman into bed with him.

He forced himself to look away from this woman who had ignited a fire in him like no other had done before. He ignored the feelings in his chest and stomach and busied himself with wrapping up the items they didn't have space on the table for as San began speaking with the woman.

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January 15, NY 263 Sundas, 11:34 Arcadia, Min-ah

"Looking for anything specific?" a man asked. Min-ah looked up and was greeted by a brilliant smile. 

The man before her had medium brown hair that was styled to show off his forehead, black eyes, and was a few inches taller than she was. He wore a simple white linen shirt, the neck open revealing his collarbone. The sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, exposing his forearms. 

Over his linen shirt, he wore an open black vest. She couldn’t be sure of the material but it looked to be jacquard. He also wore a pair of high waisted black leather pants and a pair of black heavy boots. 

When he smiled, dimples appeared on both cheeks and his eyes turned into crescents. Min-ah felt comfortable in his presence.

"Not really," she said, shaking her head. "I just happened to see these from afar," she added, gesturing at the hairpins before her. She looked closer at the ornate one that first caught her eye. It was the most beautiful pin.

It was made of metal, an off white enamel sakura blossom with a pink pearl center and smaller white blossoms. The main blossom was surrounded by green leaves with strands of crystal beads hanging down with ornate green beads at the ends.

"How much is this one?" Min-ah asked, looking up at the man. He glanced down at the Sakura hairpin, a smile on his face. "This one is a really rare piece," he started, picking it up and walking around the table to show her. "It comes with a story actually," he added. 

"Legend is that an emperor had it made for the woman he loved," the man started to explain, looking from the pin to her, a smile still on his face. Min-ah couldn't help but smile back. He was a stranger for sure, as she knew almost everyone on Arcadia but he was possibly one of the most handsome strangers she had ever seen.

Min-ah reached out slowly before stopping. She looked up at the man. "May I?" she asked. The man nodded, handing her the pin to inspect. It was even more beautiful in the sunlight. The petals of the blossom sparkled as Min-ah moved the pin around. "It's so beautiful," she said.

“Yah, San!” a voice said. Min-ah glanced up as the man she had been talking to turned to look at another man who had called out to him. The man who had called out had been sitting down when Min-ah first approached the stall. He was now standing and leaning over the table, giving his compadre a very pointed look. What it meant, Min-ah was not sure. She took in his appearance as he stared at the man she now knew was named San.

He had short blond hair with a silvery tone. His jawline was sharp in contrast to the curve of his cheeks. He had San fixed with a sharp stare of his black eyes. It was almost as if he was telling the other man off for something he had done. He wore mostly leather. A black linen shirt, more fitted than flowing, with a black leather vest. Tight fitted leather pants showed off his muscular physique. 

On his right hip, sat an empty holster. Min-ah wondered where the weapon that belonged in it was but she didn’t have time to think about that as she also caught sight of another man behind the blond one.

He was big. He didn’t have to be standing for Min-ah to know he would tower over her. His hair was a deep red, a stark contrast from his golden skin tone. His eyes were a light brown, almost amber in the sunlight. He gave Min-ah a curious and puzzled look when their eyes met. Min-ah gave him a polite and friendly smile which he returned after a moment.

Min-ah saw he wore an off white linen shirt, black leather trousers, and a pair of heavy, black lace-up boots. He sat on a low stone wall behind the others. Min-ah’s eyes were drawn to the final member of the group she hadn’t looked at but before she could get a good look, the man called San spoke to her.

“Would you be interested in any of the other hairpins we have for sale?” he asked, gesturing at the other trinkets on the table. Min-ah started to look through them as he explained each item to her.

───────────────────────────────────

January 15, NY 263 Sundas, 11:38 Arcadia, Seonghwa

Seonghwa glanced up, eyes landing on the woman. She was standing with San, the Sakura Pin in her hands as San explained the value of the pin. His expression softened as he watched the way her face lit up as she listened to San's story. The smile on her face was radiant and it took his breath away. He was vaguely aware of someone saying his name but it took him a few more moments to register Mingi at his side, shaking his shoulder gently.

Seonghwa tore his gaze from the woman and looked at the red head. "What?" he whispered. Mingi nodded wordlessly at the other side of the market where several uniformed guards had entered, looking around the market.

He turned to Wooyoung who looked wide eyed at him. Seonghwa nodded at the table, signaling them to pack it up. Wooyoung started quickly, grabbing the items and placing them back in the bag. Mingi slowly placed his hand on the gun at his hip but made no move to unholster it.

Seonghwa whistled at San who turned to face him. The woman had heard the commotion caused by the arrival of the guards. Seonghwa nodded at the Sakura Pin and San nodded, turning his attention back to the woman as the others finished packing up, slinging the bags over their backs. 

"I'm very sorry, ma'am but I'm going to need this back," San said softly as to not draw attention their way. He lightly tugged at the pin in the woman's grasp but she had a tight hold on it. Her attention was fixed in the distance as the armed guards began searching through the stalls, inspecting the people running them.

San was trying to pull the pin from the woman's hand but she wasn't letting go. Both her and the man with her were focused on the guards that had been inspecting the various stalls. Seonghwa glanced at the advancing guards. He had two choices: leave the hairpin or something much more daring and would definitely cause trouble.

One thing was certain: he wasn't leaving without that hairpin.

San turned to give Seonghwa an exasperated look. Seonghwa narrowed his eyes before hissing Mingi's name. The tall red-head looked over his shoulder at him. Seonghwa nodded towards the woman. "Grab her," he said.

───────────────────────────────────

January 15, NY 263 Sundas, 11:42 Arcadia, Min-ah

Min-ah heard several gasps and turned to see the guard had arrived led by Lucas of course. She was confused as to why they had come. The man was speaking to her but she couldn't make out what he was saying. She was too preoccupied by the advancing guards.

"There they are!" one of the guards said, pointing in their direction. Min-ah looked at her brother who looked just as confused as she did. 'What is going on?'

Min-ah heard a voice behind her say "grab her." She whipped her head around in time to make eye contact with a man with black hair and piercing eyes. She turned as the tall man with the bright red hair advanced on her.

She glanced at San, whom she had been speaking with. He merely gave her an apologetic smile and shrugged before jumping over the table and grabbing one of the bags as the rest of the crew took off. The red-head looked at the guards and back down at Min-ah. "I'm very sorry for this, Miss," he said before grabbing her and throwing her over his shoulder, knocking Min-ho to the ground in the process.

Min-ah screamed as the man took off after his comrades. "They're getting away!" Lucas called out, giving chase. Min-ah wasn't able to see much in her position as the man carrying her ran through the back alleys.

"PUT ME DOWN!!" Min-ah screamed, hitting the man's back as he ran. He didn't even seem phased by her hits. He continued to run down the dark alleys, her hat fell off as he continued quickly through the thin alleys

"Come on!" Min-ah heard another man yell. "Mingi! Let's go!" Min-ah glanced back over her shoulder to see the man with the piercing eyes holding back a piece of fence into the Erosion Zone. The man carrying her passed through the fence and continued after the others.

As he rounded the building, Min-ah saw an airship waiting at the edge of the city. The others had already jumped on. The red-head did his best to keep his balance as he jumped from rock to rock and stopped at the very edge and looked down at the deck below.

───────────────────────────────────

January 15, NY 263 Sundas, 12:06 the Horizon, Yunho

"Ugh, why do I have to be on guard duty?" Yunho groaned as he laid in his hammock suspended between two posts on the deck. He was told by Hongjoong to stay topside and wait for the others to return from the market. All he wanted to do was rest in his cabin.

He heard shuffling and opened his eyes to see Yeosang walking toward him carrying a bowl with no doubt his favorite stew inside. Yunho took it and thanked the chef. "I scooped out the bits you don't like," he added as Yunho picked up his spoon and started to eat. "You're the backbone of this ship," Yunho said as he ate several mouthfuls of the stew. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until Yeosang handed him a bowl. 

Yeosang scoffed, leaning against one of the posts and looked up at the edge of the city, hair ruffled by the breeze. "Hongjoong would disagree with you," he mumbled. Yunho looked up at his friend. The slightly younger man had no idea how valuable he was to the crew.

"Look, I like Jongho as much as everyone else, but the heart and soul of this ship is the kitchen and without you, it would be a lifeless ship. You keep us sane and fed. There's nothing more important than that," Yunho said, pointing his spoon at Yeosang.

The blonde smiled and looked back up at the sky. "Thank you," he said softly. Yunho said nothing but continued to eat. Silence fell over the two but it was short lived when footsteps announced the arrival of the youngest member of the crew. “Jongho,” Yeosang said, nodding his head slightly in greeting.

“Hongjoong wants to know when lunch will be ready,” Jongho said, looking from the chef to Yunho. Yeosang chuckled. “It’s already done,” he said in response, standing up straight. “I’ll get him a bowl,” he added. Jongho nodded, saying nothing before turning and walking away. “Why does he still act like that?” Yunho wondered, as Yeosang held out his hand to take the now empty bowl from him.

“Like what?” the brunette asked. “Like we’re all strangers,” Yunho answered. “He acts so weird around us sometimes.” Yeosang laughed, shaking his head. “I just think that’s Jongho,” he replied. With a shrug, he turned to walk away, heading down from the deck into the ship. Yunho rested back in his hammock before a distant scream caught his attention. It was unmistakably the scream of a woman. He sat up, rolling out of his hammock and onto his feet. He stared up at the edge of the city, floating a good 20 feet above the ship. He moved to the port side to try and get a better view of the cliff but saw nothing.

He was mentally cursing his ears when he suddenly heard the sounds of footsteps above. Yunho glanced up to see San and Wooyoung at the edge of the city. "Jump!" Yunho called, pointing at the pile of cushions and tarps he had set up for occasions just like this. San wasted no time and leapt off the city, landing in the cushions.

He scrambled up and looked up at Wooyoung. "Jump! It's fine. Just jump!" Wooyoung did as he was told and landed on the cushions. "Where's Seonghwa and Mingi?" Yunho asked as Wooyoung got up. "They're coming," San said. The sound of footsteps announced the arrival of Mingi.

Yunho looked up to see someone slung over Mingi's shoulder. "Who is that?!" he yelled. Before Mingi could answer, Yunho heard Seonghwa. "Just toss her to Yunho!"

Mingi lowered the woman. Yunho saw her glance down, eyes wide with fear as she held on tightly to Mingi. "Don't you dare," she warned. Mingi grimaced."I'm really sorry about this," he apologized again before dropping her off the edge of the city. 

Yunho cursed as he braced himself, arms ready. The woman screamed as she fell, arms flailing as she tried to keep herself upright. Yunho dug his heels into the wood of the deck the best he could before catching the woman but the force caused him to fall back onto the hardwood. Mingi jumped off, landing on the cushions as Seonghwa reached the edge as well.

He jumped off, landed on the deck, rolling to soften his fall. "Tell Hongjoong to go!" Seonghwa yelled to Wooyoung who took off to relay the order.

Yunho groaned as he sat up, the woman Mingi had dropped to him still on him. She looked around, eyes wide with fear. "Are you alright?" Yunho asked, rubbing the back of his head. The woman looked up at him, terrified.

Seonghwa turned to look at Yunho. He stormed over, towering over the woman. His eyes landed on the hairpin still clutched in her hand. He knelt down slowly, eyes glaring as he reached her level. The woman stared at him, shaking slightly. He grabbed the hairpin and pulled it from her hand as he stood up.

"Yunho, Mingi, one of you take her below deck and put her in the brig," he ordered before turning and walking away. Yunho and Mingi exchanged glances as the ship started to move. Mingi got to his feet, dusting himself off. "You do it," he said nodding at Yunho. "I carried her here," he added.

Before Yunho could respond, Mingi left the deck, descending down into the ship. Yunho sighed before slowly getting to his feet. He turned and held out his hand to the woman. "Let's go," he said. She didn't move, instead staring up at him. Yunho cocked his head.

"Either you can walk there on your own, or I can throw you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes," he said with a smirk. "Your call." The woman took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. "I'm Yunho," he said as he led her towards the steps down into the ship. "Who are you?"

The woman hesitated as Yunho led her through the ship, further down until he reached a door with a sliding lock. "You can tell me your name," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "I'm not going to bite."

The woman watched as he unlatched the door and opened it. He gestured for her to step inside. She did and turned to face him. "Min-ah. My name is Min-ah." Yunho smiled. "Well, nice to meet you, Min-ah. Feel free to wait right here for our captain to greet you," he replied before shutting the door and sliding the lock back in place.

He turned and headed for the engine room where he planned to confront San and ask him exactly what happened in the city and why there was a beautiful woman named Min-ah on their ship.

───────────────────────────────────

January 15, NY 263 Sundas, 12:19 the Horizon, Min-ah

Inside the room, Min-ah looked around. It was dark but it wasn't damp. Min-ah sighed and started to look around. The room was filled with crates and bags, no doubt food and other supplies but there were also plenty of chests and other interesting relics tied down and partially covered with large drop cloths.

She began to move toward the chests, finding most of them were locked. She found one chest that wasn't locked and deciding to be rather nosey, Min-ah opened it and peered inside.

She was surprised to see that it was full of not gold or gems, but rather paperwork. She started sifting through it to make sense of it. Most of it were written documents, ledgers, and receipts. "What is all of this?" she whispered as she looked at the papers.

Min-ah was brought back to her senses by the sound of footsteps outside the room. She quickly shut the lid on the chest and scurried away from the cargo, moving back by the door. She listened carefully for any more sounds but heard nothing.

Deciding not to snoop anymore, Min-ah sat down on a crate and waited for someone to come to the cargo hold.

She thought about how she got in this predicament in the first place. All she wanted was to find a nice gift for herself as her father suggested. Why did she have to go to a stand owned by pirates? Why couldn't she have found someone else selling hairpins?

"This is absurd," Min-ah hissed to herself, crossing her arms over her chest. "I can't believe, of all things, this had to happen to me," she added. "Absolutely outrageous!" she grumbled to no one. 

───────────────────────────────────

January 15, NY 263 Sundas, 12:26 the Horizon, Seonghwa

Seonghwa watched as Hongjoong paced back and forth in front of him, Mingi standing nervously next to him. The pair watched as their captain said nothing, continuing only to pace before them.

Seonghwa was about to speak but Hongjoong beat him to it.

"What were you thinking?" he said, trying to keep his tone even but it was no use, Seonghwa knew Hongjoong better than that. He could see that his friend was seething.

"It was a quick decision, I made after a brief consideration, Captain," Seonghwa replied simply. "Nothing more." Hongjoong scoffed, coming to a stop, hands still behind his back and eyes looking out the window to the West. "This wasn't a simple decision, Seonghwa," he argued. Seonghwa held his ground.

"It was. She had a firm grip on the Sakura Pin and San tried his hardest to pull it from her but her attention was elsewhere," Seonghwa explained. Hongjoong turned his head and held his friend's gaze. "I knew you would be more angry if we lost that pin, so I did what I felt was best," Seonghwa added.

Hongjoong cursed mentally. Seonghwa was right. The Sakura Pin was extremely rare and very old. There was no way he would let something of that value go. Hongjoong had no choice but to concede.

With a heavy sigh, he moved to sit down behind his desk. "So, you gave the order and Mingi followed through?" he asked. Seonghwa nodded, moving to sit across from Hongjoong. "He did. Even apologized to her before he picked up and threw her over his shoulder," Seonghwa added with a small smirk.

Hongjoong eyed his friend before a chuckle escaped him. He looked up at Mingi. "You're free to go," he said with a smile.

Mingi, who had been standing with his whole body tensed up, finally seemed to relax and nodded. He turned and exited the room, leaving Hongjoong and Seonghwa alone.

Once the door shut, Seonghwa fixed his friend with a stern gaze. "What are we going to do about her?" he asked. Hongjoong looked down at his desk littered with papers, maps, and small trinkets. 

"It's too dangerous to turn back right now," he murmured just loud enough for Seonghwa to hear him. "The entire city will be on high alert,"  the raven-headed man added. "We could hold onto her," Hongjoong mentioned. Seonghwa wrinkled his nose.

"Hold onto her?" he asked, his disdain unmistakable. Hongjoong narrowed his eyes. "Yes. This is your punishment. Were going to keep her on board until it's safe to return her to Arcadia."

The tone in Hongjoong's voice made it clear that this decision was final. Seonghwa nodded reluctantly and watched as Hongjoong stood up, grabbing his coat that was hanging off the back of his chair. "Well," he said as he put his coat on. "Let's not keep our guest waiting," he added, giving Seonghwa a smile.

Seonghwa groaned and stood up. Hongjoong's smile fell and he pointed a finger at his friend. "Not one word," he said. "This is entirely your fault." Seonghwa held up his hands in defeat and followed his shorter friend as he opened the door and sauntered down the hall.

Making their way through the ship, they turned the corner and found the rest of the crew standing outside the door to the cargo hold, listening intently at what was going on inside the room. Seonghwa watched as the crew scattered when Hongjoong approached.

"She's talking to herself," San chuckled when Hongjoong gave him a puzzled look. Nothing else was said as Hongjoong unlocked and opened the door. He stepped inside, followed by Seonghwa while the rest of the crew peered inside.

The woman before him was slim and petite. She wore a deep blue dress with silver embroidered stars. It was a flattering silhouette on her. The high neck and long sleeves gave her a very proper appearance. Her hair was a soft brown and pulled back into a flowy half up half down style. She had beautiful crescent moon shaped pins holding her hair back. 

The hem of her skirt was lifted as she sat on a crate near the door giving him a peek at the black boots she wore. Hongjoong looked back up as the woman turned to look at him, her soft brown eyes meeting his and he could see why the others were so keen on her.

───────────────────────────────────

January 15, NY 263 Sundas, 12:38 the Horizon, Min-ah

Min-ah glanced up and stood quickly, eyes widening in panic.

'This is it! I'm done for,' she thought as she watched whom she assumed to be the captain approach her. He wore a crisp linen shirt tucked into black trousers with a black and gold brocade vest. The gold detailing was a dragon pattern. Over this, he wore a blue and black brocade coat and a pair of black cavalier boots.

Fastened to one hip was a sword with an ornate handle that shimmered in the low lights. The hilt was made out of shined bronze. On the other side, a small dagger was strapped to his thigh and tucked under his right arm was a holster with a flintlock pistol.

His hair was short, black, and shaved on the sides with a few braids coming from the back. He had an x cut pattern in his right eyebrow. He gave Min-ah a smile that despite the situation, made her feel welcomed. The man who had told the tall red head to grab her stood behind this man and she was able to get a good look at him.

His hair was a bit longer with an undercut, also black. He wore a linen shirt as well but in a blood red color, under a black on black brocade vest. His trousers were also black as were his cavalier boots. At his hip sat a holster with a revolver in it and strapped to his other thigh was a large dagger in its sheath.

He studied Min-ah with a firm and heated gaze. It made her feel small and scrutinized. She shifted her attention back to the captain as he spoke with a pleasant tone.

"Good afternoon, ma'am," he said with a small bow. Min-ah curtsied back curiously. "Good afternoon," she said softly.

"Sorry for the inconvenience my crew may have caused you," he continued. "My name is Kim Hongjoong and I am the captain of this ship." Hongjoong smiled as he gestured at the cargo hold. Min-ah glanced behind the pair and saw 5 more pairs of eyes looking at her from the doorway. Hongjoong looked over his shoulder.

The crew immediately scattered and he chuckled. "Don't mind them," he added. "They've never seen a woman on board before." Min-ah looked back at him. "Why am I here?" she asked, looking from Hongjoong to the other man. Hongjoong noticed and decided to introduce him. "This is my first mate, Seonghwa," he added.

Min-ah nodded wordlessly before asking again. 

"Why am I here? What do you want with me?" she asked. Hongjoong shook his head. "I would like to apologize again. Your being here was not planned," he stated. "It was entirely an accident," he continued. "Let me explain."

Min-ah listened as he explained everything. How the only reason she was grabbed was because she was holding a very rare and valuable hairpin. Min-ah felt that was no excuse but kept her mouth shut while she listened. When she said nothing, the captain continued.

"We are going to keep you on board for now. Just until things cool down in Arcadia. Once things calm down, we will return you," he added. Min-ah stared at him for a moment. Hongjoong sensed her hesitation. "I give you my word as captain of this ship, that you will be returned home safely." Min-ah sighed.

"I guess I don't have much of a choice, do I?" she asked. Hongjoong shook his head. "No, you really don't," he added in amusement. Min-ah sat down on a crate and groaned. "Then I guess I'll just have to wait it out," she replied. Hongjoong nodded before looking at Seonghwa. "Set her up with her own cabin and get her anything else she needs," he said, a hint of authority to him.

He looked at Min-ah once more. "If you need anything, Seonghwa will get it for you Miss…?" he trailed off. "Min-ah. Bang Min-ah," Min-ah answered. Hongjoong nodded, a small smile on his face.

"Well, Miss Min-ah," he said, his smile shifting into a smirk.

"Welcome aboard the Horizon."

✙ previous || next

[ninjago-bingo]

final month recap

wow, everyone.  we’re here.  we’ve made it.  we’re reached the end of our bingo time, and i’m absolutely floored by the sheer creative output that i’ve seen over these last four months.  everyone, take a moment to give yourself a pat on the back!!!  no matter if you made 1 piece or 10, there’s now a work of art out there in the world that wasn’t there before.  and truly, that’s super heccing rad no matter how you look at it.

so let’s celebrate!  for this recap, we have a total of 20 new pieces, bringing the total amount of ninbingo pieces up to 50.  in the span of four months, this little event has created 50 individual works (five of them in the last day!)  holy cow ya’ll.

i’m putting out this recap now, but don’t worry, it’s not the end yet!  any submissions made to the end of the 30th still count and this post will be updated accordingly :D

fic:

all the things i’ve never done by @sa-you-na-ra. tumblr || prompts: competition and teasing

It’s always a funny thing when the ninja realize new things about each other. Even though living with each other meant they had to see each other all day, there were still small habits or actions that amused the others.

(mod comments: all these little interactions made me smile so much :D looking forward to the rest!)

error 404: answer not found by @m-aster-of-spinjitzu. tumblr || prompt: memories

Akita and Zane talk after the battle in ‘Awakenings’. The conversation… doesn’t go as either of them expect.

(mod comments: the nuances in this fic are fantastic!  also Akita is always a win :D)

Five times kai was a good brother by @/master-of-fluff. tumblr || ao3 || prompts: nightmare and brother

I'm writing kai centric stuff again.

(mod comments: kai IS the big bro of the team!!! i support him all the way!!)

How Garmadon became a chauffeur by @master-of-fluff. tumblr || ao3 || prompt: driving

"um...Kai? Don't you think we should go Slower?" Garmadon asked nervously trying not to panick as they raced down the road at what had to be over the speed limit.

(mod comments: who let Kai drive?  no but honestly this is canon alskdfj)

little things by @/rosiehunterwolf. tumblr || ao3 || ffn.net || prompts: hugs and crying.

"Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you'll look back and realize they were the big things." -Kurt Vonnegut

Lloyd’s tired of being left behind. How is he meant to be the green ninja when he always has to work harder, train better, and wait longer to go on missions with his team? He wants nothing more than to be their equal.

At least, that’s what he thought he wanted.

(mod comments: a post-ep-18 resolution scene?  SIGN ME UP!)

Neither Snow Nor Rain by @fangirltakesall. tumblr || ffn.net || prompt: post-fight

After their return from the Never Realm and all its troubles, Zane is quiet and Nya is incredibly worried. A call to action to a peculiar sort of battle might be enough to change both of those things.

(mod comments: the concept of these two on their own mission together is just so good! excited to see how their dynamic plays out!!)

Never Put Off Until Tomorrow by @/rosiehunterwolf. tumblr || ao3 || ffn.net || prompts: video games and chores

…what can be done today, yada, yada, yada, we all know the saying. So do the ninja- when Master Wu is drilling it into their heads every minute of every day, it’s kind of hard to forget.

Naturally, it only takes them a week (and the biggest new video game in Ninjago) to do so.

(mod comments: this is so in character that it’s frustrating lol.  also Pixal ftw!!)

oh take me back to the start by @/rosiehunterwolf. tumblr || ao3 || ffn.net || prompts: comfort and 3 am

The past should be left in the past. Or, at least, that’s what Jay keeps telling himself. Nadakhan is gone. It’s not logical to still be afraid. But he is, and now everything that he left behind suddenly feels like it’s never going to be the same again.

Cole isn’t so convinced.

(mod comments: Cole is truly the man we all deserve in our lives.)

On Our Own by @redefine-your-identity. tumblr || prompt: home

It’s been a few weeks since Kai and Nya’s parents disappeared without a trace. Needless to say, they’re struggling.

(mod comments: OU C H no poor babies 😭 the relationship dynamic here is great!)

orange and gold by @/m-aster-of-spinjitzu. tumblr || prompt: cooking

...I just need more Cole and Vania content, they seem like they'd be great friends.

Basically it's just 'Cole goes to visit her there, they almost burn down the kitchen, and make way too many puns', lol.

(mod comments: I also always need more Vania content!! the puns in this were breadful!)

permafrost by @/rosiehunterwolf. tumblr || ao3 || ffn.net || prompts: loss of control and promise

It’s not like this is the first time this has happened. It’s not like none of his teammates have ever suffered this kind of guilt and pain. It’s not like Zane himself hasn’t walked through hell before and come out the other side (mostly) in once piece.

Except, this time, it is. It shouldn’t be different, but it is.

(mod comments: super sweet moment between two ninja who deserve more interaction like seriously!!)

Precautionary Tale by @/fangirltakesall. tumblr || ffn.net || prompt: protective

Fighting is different now, and Zane doesn't know why. Yes, he is titanium now, but why should that change anything? It seems to be changing everything, although is all really as it seems?

(mod comments: a great start to a zane-centric fic!  interested to see where it goes next :D)

Star-Ninja! by @rosiehunterwolf. tumblr || ao3 || ffn.net || prompts: siblings and competition 

What happens when the loveable gremlin the ninja adopted off of the streets introduces them to Starfarer comics?

Chaos ensues, of course.

stuck with you (through bright and blue) by @/rosiehunterwolf. tumblr || ao3 || ffn.net || prompt: protective

Kai only wants two things: to protect Lloyd, and to give him the best birthday ever. Unfortunately, Lloyd seems hell-bent on making that as difficult as possible. Kai’s always prided himself on achieving the impossible, but dealing with human emotions is much more complicated than beating up Garmadon’s generals or shooting enemies with fire, as he quickly learns. Movie!verse

(mod comments: happy birthday lloyd!! look at him getting the love he deserves uwu)

Take a walk in the rain. by @/master-of-fluff. tumblr || ao3 || prompt: rain

Cole had always loved the rain, the way it smelled, the way it felt on his skin, and especially the mud! Whenever it rained his Mother would put on his rain coat and boots And they'd both go out and splash around in the puddles and make mud cakes and do all sorts of things.

(mod comments: this fic made me smile a lot :D loved the way it was arranged!) 

the hues of an empty sky by @/m-aster-of-spinjitzu. tumblr || prompt: crying

Missing memories, or having two of them for one moment - not quite the same, but if there’s one thing Jay’s leant over the last few weeks, it’s that literally nothing makes sense anymore.

Or, some Skybound aftermath, Zane actually expressing emotions about his memory switch being turned off for all those years, and what was supposed to be a ‘they tell everyone about the erased timeline’ fic, but it turned into a 'two characters who barely interact on screen talk at like one am in the morning, and don’t actually tell the other what exactly they’re alluding to the whole time’ fic that I wrote at like one am-

(mod comments: Skybound resolution? SIGN ME THE HECK UP YES)

The Make-Cole-Realize-How-Much-We-Love-Him Competition by @21st-century-ninja. tumblr || ao3 || prompts: bets and competition

Jay and Kai share a horrified look.  “He really doesn’t get it,” Jay says.

Kai shakes his head.  “We need to show him somehow.”

“Show me what?” Cole asks, exasperated again.  

“How much we love you!” Kai exclaims.  “Somehow, it’s not getting through your thick skull that we want to sit next to you because you’re you, so I’m gonna have to just prove it to you.”

(mod comments: a silly little movie fic!)

twitter was a mistake by @/21st-century-ninja. tumblr || ao3 || prompts: teasing and birthday

Kai 🔥 @flaminhotninja ☑

so who was gonna tell me that Jay used to be a game show host huh

🌺✨ the Gift of Jay ✨🌺 @zaptrap ☑

Replying to @flaminhotninja

NO WHO SHOWED YOU

(mod comments: twitter was a mistake)

two halves of a broken whole by @/rosiehunterwolf. tumblr || ao3 || ffn.net || prompts: scars and post-fight

The Sons of Garmadon have been defeated. Garmadon is in prison. The city has been saved.

In the aftermath of the battle, Nya is more than ready to take a much-needed break. But the life of a ninja is messy. Recovery is never that simple. Although the wounds may have healed, the scars still remain.

Zane’s scars seem to match up, though. And maybe together, they can begin to heal.

(mod comments: aggressive care is my jam, and this is it!)

wait by @rosiehunterwolf. tumblr || ao3 || ffn.net || prompts: home and memories

Lloyd’s not so great at being patient. It’s not his fault though- maybe he would be better at it if waiting didn’t always end up being so disappointing- if people actually kept their promises. But this time’s going to be different, he knows it. His father will come back for him. And Lloyd’s going to wait.

As long as it takes.

(mod comments: baby.  baby boy.  baby.  protecc him plz.)

[smaidjor]

and i pay for my place by the ring (Chapter 1)

Hey guys! Welcome to another angsty fic by yours truly, provider of flower husbands pain.

Some things you should know before you jump into this:

1. This is a companion fic to my fic "i know they're losing". You can understand it without having read the other one, since it's the same story from two different POVs but I think the overall experience is better with both!

2. The overall title of each fic is from the mitski song I bet on losing dogs. Chapter titles are from the Last Goodbye from the Hobbit films.

3. There is a lot of lord of the rings lore in both fics, and I mean a lot. You may be kinda confused if you've never read tolkien's works. It will all be explained eventually, though!

4. With the fact that it's a companion fic and a lot of people came here from Jimmy's POV in mind- this is a lot heavier of a fic. The content warnings are heavier and the angst is more intense. You have been warned.

(Obligatory disclaimer that this is about characters, not ccs, and do not ship real people, as always!)

Chapter Title: to these memories i will hold

Chapter Wordcount: 4000

Content warnings: suicidal thoughts, self-esteem issues, panic attacks, past death, very frank discussion of death. (In general, if suicide or death are triggering topics for you, this is probably not the fic for you. Stay safe and take care of yourself!)

AO3

Actual fic under the cut:

Scott didn’t expect to survive 3rd life. No one did, he thinks, but especially not him. Clever, clever Scott, who knew his fate too well for his own good. He could have chosen his allies carefully, he knows, could have played on their emotions to make them think he was loyal until the moment he turned on them to win. He knew who the strongest factions and warriors were, the most cunning and intelligent participants in this death game they were forced into. Instead, he chose Jimmy. Sweet, dopey Jimmy, who had the personality of a golden retriever and only a handful of braincells at any given time. Jimmy, who was worth more than all the stars in the sky to him. Who made him feel alive . No, Scott didn’t expect to win. Not when it was Jimmy by his side- when it was Jimmy by his side, winning didn’t matter. All that mattered was Jimmy’s blush when Scott pressed a kiss to his cheek, the way his hair looked like gold in the sunlight and his smile lit up Scott’s whole world.

After Jimmy died, Scott stopped wanting to survive 3rd life. What was the point? The stars can shine on without the sun, but all life on Earth would wither and die. The same happened to Scott’s broken, bitter heart, he found. Jimmy was the first person in years to love him truly, wholly, with no strings attached; it was terrifying how quickly Scott fell for the first person to look at him and not expect him to be anything but what he was. Scott’s world, which used to be mountain peaks and endless blue sky, narrowed to warm brown eyes and a grin like sunshine quicker than he could comprehend. Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy, it all came back to him. What was Scott without Jimmy? The unwanted twin, the unloved child, the un-elven elf. Because who cared if he was a good shot with a bow or good at organizing teams or building pretty little houses? He would always be second-born, second-best.

It was fitting, really, that when Scott died, he died alone. Some might find it ironic that the man who knew enough people to fill the roster of a championship held by a god every month died without a single person to witness it save his enemies, but in the end, it was always going to be like this, Scott knew. He hadn’t been there to see Jimmy die, he hadn’t been able to hold him in his final moments and soothe the agony of death. Maybe this was his punishment. He wouldn’t be surprised; the gods of this world did not smile on him and never would. Why should they, when he had failed the only person who had ever found him good enough?

When he woke up in Rivendell, he was almost disappointed. Almost. He considered ditching the rest of the elves, up and leaving to somewhere that didn’t make it feel like the noose of immortality was slowly tightening around his neck. If nothing else, Noxite would let him crash at the MCC server for a bit until he found somewhere to go. And yet, in the end, Scott’s stubborn sense of duty won out. The elves needed a ruler. Xornoth had disappeared to god knows where, and though they had been braver, wiser, better in every way, Scott was the one who had stayed. Who was willing to take up the crown that weighed so heavily on its bearers. So Scott, who no one ever expected to rule, took up the burden of leadership.

Now, he tries and fails to get out of bed and wonders what the point of that even was. He’s fading, and worse than that, he’s fading over a human. His ancestors are probably rolling in their graves. Rivendell will be leaderless within a decade, and this time there are no heirs to take control. Not even a ‘spare’ like Scott used to be. What a mess.

There are footsteps on the stairs. They’re unfamiliar, meaning they could be a threat, but he’s too tired to bother sitting up. If he dies, well- it’s inevitable, really, in the same way watching the mortals he loves dies is.

The person comes around the corner, and Scott realizes with no joy that he won’t be dying today after all. Katherine looks both curious and concerned, but her voice tilts towards the latter when she asks “Scott?” and then, more hesitantly  “Lord Smajor?”

He blinks at her, exhausted. “Hi, Katherine.”

“I came to talk to you about some empires stuff, but, I mean, if this is a bad time, I can come back later…?” She sounds so thrown off by his state that Scott almost feels bad.

Whatever it is, it must be important if she’s come all the way here, though, so he gestures her to a chair. “No, no, stay. I can muster the energy for a meeting, just don’t ask me to get up.”

Katherine takes the seat. “I came to talk about the corruption on the server, but- are you okay? Are you sick?”

Nothing about the question is funny in any way, but Scott laughs regardless. “In a way, yes.”

“What do you mean?”

“Take my hand.” He offers it out, knowing the unnatural cold is unsettling no matter if you’re elven or not. Katherine does as he asks, the concern on her face only growing as she grips his icy hand.

“Elves don’t get sick like mortals do,” Scott explains. “Nor do we die of old age. But we get...heartsickness, you might call it. We call it fading in our tongue- the cold hands are a symptom of that. Our souls are fragile, and the grief of the mortal plane can be overwhelming. If an elf is too struck by it, they fade away and die.” The words taste bitter on his tongue, a frank reminder of the slow and painful death that awaits him.

Katherine gasps, and Scott knows he’s alarmed her.

He goes on, though. “It usually happens to old elves, world-weary.” Ironic, it’s ironic that he’s saying that as a young elf explaining his own death. “Those who are tired of existence. But any elf who has experienced enough grief is at risk.”

Her face is nothing short of horrified. “You’re- fading? But doesn’t it usually happen to old elves? Wait, are you old?”

“I’m fifty-five.”

“Is that old?”

He has to laugh. “Fifty is the elven equivalent of eighteen for humans, the age of maturity.” Though he feels so much older than that, both in elven terms and in human.

“Oh.”

There’s a moment of silence, then, “How can you be so calm if you’re dying?”

“I’m tired, Katherine. The world tore me away from the people I loved, and..I’m tired of fighting it.” He’s so, so exhausted. So sick of having to claw and scrape and struggle for the barest scraps of happiness.

“Is there a way to reverse fading- to fix it?” Katherine sounds so hopeful that the question seems almost naive even though she’s far more capable of a ruler than he is. Naive in the affairs of elves, maybe, much as she’s intelligent in so many other ways.

Scott tries not to flinch at the innocent inquiry, thinking about the deaths from fading that he’s watched. “Technically, yes. If an elf recovers enough emotionally, it’s reversible. But whatever caused them to fade the first time can- and often does- cause it again.” And again, and again, until there’s nothing to be done but let them die , he finishes in his head.

Katherine nods, a look of determination overtaking the hope. “We’ll just have to reverse it, then.”

“That’s sweet, Katherine, but I’m dying.”

“No. You’re not going to die. Now come on, you can show me your empire while I fill you in on what’s happening on the rest of the continent.” She sounds so firm that he doesn’t dare disobey, though his exhaustion makes a fair effort at convincing him to. Will this really fix anything? Unlikely. But it’s worth it to try, if only to humor Katherine. At least this way she’ll have the comfort of having tried to save him when he inevitably fades away into nothing

Scott takes her hand, though it brings him little warmth, cold from her trek here. “Alright.” He swallows the bitter grief in his throat before it can seep into his words. “We can try.”

He leads Katherine around Rivendell, taking some pride in the way she oohs over the decor. If there’s one thing he can do right, it’s building. While some elven rulers might see it as below themselves to help build houses for their citizens, Scott finds building soothing. It’s one of the few skills he picked up during his time away that people really appreciate; no one wants to live in a shitty house.

As they walk, she also tells Scott about the demon, Xornoth. “The demon’s already visited a lot of people, I think. Gem and Shubble for sure, and Fwhip and Sausage. That’s not even mentioning the corruption that’s been spreading.”

If Scott said that the name Xornoth didn’t make him flinch, he would be lying to himself. It’s not your sibling , he tells himself. It’s just a coincidence .

It’s through the virtue of years of lying that his voice comes out steady. “There’s corruption in Rivendell too. Likely Xornoth’s work. And given that Jimmy still has Vilya-” his heart doesn’t ache when he says Jimmy’s name, it doesn’t- “well, I haven’t been able to do much.”

“Vilya?” Katherine asks.

“A ring of power. My inheritance from the Noldor.”

“Why does Jimmy have it?”

He doesn’t answer. He won’t- can’t talk about Jimmy, not without remembering how he looked with an arrow through his throat, bright smile gone and face frozen in fear. How does he explain how much Jimmy meant to him? How much he’s now giving up, knowing he’ll have to lose it one way or another?

Katherine drops the topic, seemingly sensing that she’s stumbled on something sensitive. When she has to go home, she leaves with a friendly goodbye and a promise to visit, and Scott believes neither. Who would put the effort into visiting him? He’s not a good friend, he’s not a good king, and god knows he’s not a good husband. In fact, he’s actively avoiding his husband. He may have kept the pufferfish Jimmy gave him, but that doesn’t mean anything. He can’t fall in love with Jimmy again. Loving Jimmy will kill him. (Scott ignores the small voice at the back of his head that whispers that he’s still in love with Jimmy and it’s already killing him just as he always knew it would.)

To his surprise, Katherine does come back next week, and the week after that. He’s ashamed to admit it, but there’s some part of him that’s pathetically grateful when she shows up at his doorstep. It’s a chance to not be alone . Much as he dreads the day when she finally gives up on him, it’s nice that someone cares enough to try and save him from himself.

The third week, Katherine doesn’t show up. Instead, the footsteps on the stairs are familiar in a way that makes Scott’s heart twist painfully.

He takes a deep breath. “Hello, Jimmy.”

“How’d you know it was me?” Jimmy asks. Scott can tell he’s startled by the way his voice goes up, almost frightened.

Scott steels himself, taking a deep breath before rolling over to face his ex-husband. “Do you think I could ever forget the sound of your footsteps?” He forces himself to not get distracted staring at Jimmy, instead going on before Jimmy can open his mouth. “What are you doing here?”

“Katherine asked me to visit, I’m not sure why, but...here I am. Say, why is she visiting every week?” Jimmy’s so curious. So naive, as always.

Scott laughs, bitter. “Katherine thinks she can save me.”

“Save you from what?”

Scott hears the concern in Jimmy’s words, and he can’t bring himself to break the news. It’s not as if it matters. It’s not as if Jimmy would care; he came here because of Katherine. Maybe he cared at the start of Empires, but Scott’s been nothing but rude to him since. There’s no reason for him to care. (He cares. Scott’s lying, like always. Jimmy cares and Scott knows it.)

“Save you from what?” Jimmy asks again, more insistently.

He refuses to say it. He needs Jimmy out, out of his room and out of his life before he does something he’ll regret. “You should go.” To prove his point, he tries to stand, finding himself too dizzy to quite pull it off. Jimmy rushes to catch him, and Scott hates himself just a little for how that still gives him a warm feeling.

“Scott, what is going on?”

He brushes Jimmy off, letting go of his arm and hurrying for the stairs. He can’t let Jimmy work his way into his heart again; Scott won’t be strong enough to let him go this time.

“Scott, seriously! Answer me, are you okay? What’s happening?” Jimmy sounds almost angry, but Scott can hear the distress under it and that’s what breaks him.

“I’m fading, alright?” His voice nearly breaks at the concern on Jimmy’s face when he whirls to face him. “I’m dying, now leave me alone!”

Jimmy sputters, seemingly caught off guard. “You- what- but elves don’t die, right?”

“We do. From poison, from swords-” Scott thinks back to third life- “from arrows through the throat, from grief.” The words come out more raw than he intends, leaving him scrambling to recover his composure. He takes a deep breath in and out, forcing his voice to steady again. “Come on. If you’re not going to leave, I might as well show you around.”

“You can’t just drop something like that on a man, you know!” Jimmy calls after him, although Scott can hear his footsteps following as well.

“You did ask, to be fair.” Scott replies. His voice is calm. He’s fine.

“I guess so, but- but still, dude.”

Scott pushes open the side door, holding it for Jimmy. “Here.”

Jimmy nods and slips through the door.  “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Scott starts towards the bridges, intending to show Jimmy the enchanting tower and then the door. He doesn’t care about how fast he’s walking, Jimmy can keep up. He’s taller than Scott and probably has better balance at the moment too. Scott’s struggling not to fall, honestly, but his pride won’t let him go slower.

Jimmy breaks the awkward silence with the question Scott least wants to hear. “So, uh..are we going to talk about 3rd life?”

“No,” Scott says firmly.

“Why not? We need to talk about it some time-”

“I said no .” He can’t talk about it.

“It’s literally killing you to not talk about it!”

The words strike right at the raw wound of Jimmy’s death, and Scott freezes. Inhales. Exhales. Tries to keep calm.

“Tell me I’m wrong, Scott!” Jimmy cries. He sounds so upset, Scott’s heart aches. “I dare you, tell me I’m wrong! Tell me you never cared about me, tell me you didn’t bother to bury me, tell me it didn’t hurt even a little when I died! Tell me I was just stupid little Jimmy, a toy for an elf who’d live far beyond my lifespan! Tell me whatever, just tell me the truth! ”

Scott takes a deep breath. “Fine. You want to know what happened after you died?” He can’t think straight through the rage clouding his head, the desperate need to prove that Jimmy’s wrong , that Scott loved him so much it’s killing him. “You want to hear about me screaming until my throat went raw? You want to know that I kissed your face and sobbed and begged you to wake up, over and over until I couldn’t speak at all? You want to live with the knowledge that Grian had to physically pull me away from your body? Is that what you want to hear, Jimmy? ” His voice damn near breaks on his husband’s name, and Scott thanks the gods he stopped believing in a long time ago that it doesn’t.

“No,” Jimmy says. His voice is soft, gentle, almost as if Scott is a wounded animal that needs a delicate touch. “That’s not what I want to hear, not at all. I’d rather you be happy than love me.”

The words punch the air from Scott’s lungs, raw and soft and real. Scott is an excellent liar. Jimmy isn’t. Scott knows that Jimmy is telling the truth. What he doesn’t know is how to handle that level of devotion. He wonders again how Jimmy- sweet, genuine Jimmy who wears his heart on his sleeve and is hopelessly devoted to an elf who can’t be fully his- chose Scott of all people. Scott, who’s as bitter as Jimmy is sweet, who’s sarcastic and snarky and hasn’t been good enough for just about anything in his life. He certainly wasn’t good enough to save Jimmy, Scott thinks bitterly.

He shakes off the thought. “I buried you on the hill above our houses. I planted a poppy over your grave.”

“Oh.”

“Grian came over the next day. I didn’t want to see anyone who wasn’t you, but I let him in because I had to. He helped me do the straps on my armor and asked me if he could do anything else to make things easier. I told him to bury me next to you.”

“Did he?”

Scott almost laughs at the innocent question. “How would I know? Grian was honorable enough, though, loyal to his allies. I like to think he did.”

“He was a good guy,” Jimmy agrees. “A little bit bloodthirsty, I guess, but good. I don’t suppose he survived any better than the rest of us, though maybe being bloodthirsty helped.”

“Maybe.”

“Can I- can I ask you why you hate me so much now?” Jimmy’s tone is uncertain, hesitant and it hurts . “I mean, if you mourned me in third life and all.”

Scott looks away from his earnest gaze, but he can’t stop the truth slipping out. “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?” Jimmy asks, seemingly bewildered. “But you burned the pufferfish-”

“I didn’t. I kept it.” Scott doesn’t want to think about this, wants to say it even less. “I never hated you. I don’t think I’m capable of it.”

“Then why do you keep avoiding me?”

“I’ve been kind of busy dying,” Scott says wryly, unable to resist a bit of morbid humor at his own expense.

“Scott! That’s not funny!”

“It was a little funny.”

“No!”

Jimmy sounds genuinely distressed, and Scott drops the wry smile. “Jimmy, I’m an elf. I won’t live far beyond you, but only because I’ll fade without you.” It’s a simple statement. The truth, as much as he can give.

“So your solution is to isolate yourself and fade now?” Jimmy’s outrage is justifiable, but Scott just shrugs.

“It does sound stupid when you put it like that, doesn’t it?” It really does. “But I lost you once, and I don’t think I could bear it again.”

A hand lands on Scott’s arm, and he turns, startled. Jimmy doesn’t give him time to react, throwing his arms around Scott and pulling him close. Scott almost lets out a very undignified squeak at the sudden contact, though he slowly relaxes into Jimmy’s hold.

He should pull away. He shouldn’t give Jimmy false hope like this. But Jimmy is so warm , and Scott is so unbearably cold. Every fiber of his being is screaming that this is what’s right; screw Rivendell and obligations and too-heavy crowns, Jimmy is home to him. He’s warm for the first time in months, and the most heartbreaking part is that it can’t last. He can’t do this again.

He pulls away, ignoring the painful hope on Jimmy’s face. “I’m sorry, Jimmy.” For the first time all conversation, his voice well and truly wobbles. “I can’t. Not again.”

“But-”

Scott shakes his head. “Losing you will destroy me. We dared to love, and now all we can do now is lessen the pain when it all comes crashing down.” The words are like glass in his throat, but he forces them out anyways. They have to be said.

Jimmy’s silent, and it hurts more than if Jimmy had yelled at him.

“Goodbye, Jimmy,” Scott manages, turning away before Jimmy can see the way his face twists in pain. He makes his retreat as quickly as possible, stumbling and nearly taking a tumble just before he reaches the door. Unlike before, there’s no helpful ex-husband there to catch him, to make sure he’s alright and ask a million questions until Scott’s forced to admit that he’s not okay and hasn’t been in a long time.

He fumbles with the latch, hands shaking and vision blurring. Finally, it clicks, and Scott stumbles inside and slams the door shut before sliding to the ground. He won’t cry. He won’t . He doesn’t love Jimmy, he can’t love Jimmy anymore. Jimmy was never meant to be his. They might have carved out a few precious moments, stolen them from the universe and giggled like kids with their hands in the cookie jar as they kissed amongst the flowers, but those brief moments were all they were ever going to be allowed. It was always going to end this way, Scott tells himself. There’s no use crying over a mortal who will be dead in the blink of an eye to an elf. What would his parents say? That this was typical of him, probably. Typical Scott, always wanting what he would never be able to have. Typical, predictable Scott, loving a mortal who shouldn’t be worth anything to him.

He’s crying. There are tears spotting his cyan robes, splashing onto the wood floors he worked so hard on. Scott rubs at his eyes furiously, but that only makes it worse, sobs shuddering through him and leaving him hollow and aching. He’s so cold . The ache in his chest has returned tenfold, stealing away his breath, and he curls further into himself, struggling for air.

He’s going to die. He is going to die , alone on the floor of his house because he fell for someone he couldn’t have. For all that he’s spent every minute since Jimmy’s death in 3rd life wishing for some way out of this cruel world, he’s terrified now that it seems inevitable. He’s scared in a way he hasn’t been in forever, breath coming quick and shallow. He's scared, and he is so, so tired of this ache that haunts him, the chill that he can never get rid of.

“Jimmy,” Scott whispers. There’s no way for the human to hear him, but the name brings him some comfort. “ Jimmy .” He wants his husband. He wants someone to hug him. He doesn’t want to fade away freezing and alone, no one there to hold his hand or reassure him that the pain will be over soon. Internally, he begs for someone, anyone who cares to come looking. To find him, even if they’re too late to save him. Someone. Anyone. Please.

No one comes, and Scott lays on his floor until his breathing steadies out again. His head spins when he forces himself to his feet, and he has to lean against the wall for a few moments. There’s no time for dramatics, he tells himself sternly. He has a kingdom to rule. He cannot afford to break over a mortal he never should have fallen for in the first place. He doesn’t love Jimmy anymore, he can’t .

(He’s lying. But Scott has always been an excellent liar, even when it’s to himself.)

[interstellarflare]

Bend and Break || Homelander

-PART TWO-

Warnings: Gore, violence, course language, angst.

Summary: People can only bend their morales so far before they break. Homelander is the world’s greatest superhero, and you, a tech analyst, somehow become entangled in his world when he learns that you provide intel to The Boys. He makes it his personal mission to find out exactly what you know, but he never expected such resistance from someone as damaged as you. But broken things can be mended, sometimes in the most unexpected ways possible.

Author’s Note: As a bit of a disclaimer, I have only seen snippets of The Boys. I haven’t actually watched all of it, so forgive me if there are some details that are wrong, as well as the many spelling errors that will undoubtedly be in this series. There is a tag list open for those who wish to be added. Gif by @voughtgifs​

|PART ONE|

Homelander was keeping you on edge. It had been a week since his abrupt appearance at your apartment, and you knew that the fucker was watching you every hour of every day. And you knew that he was contemplating the best way to scare the shit out of you. It was only a matter of time.

The bruise on your forearm remained. It had turned a darkish purple, almost black, which you assumed wasn’t a good sign. But you didn’t care. It still hurt like hell, and it annoyed you to have to wear long sleeve shirts everywhere, but what could you do other than hang out at your apartment wondering when the bastard would show up?

Well, get drunk of course.

Pissed beyond comprehension at a nightclub downtown, you were happy to be somewhere else for the night, escaping the fucked up reality that you now lived in. Downing another shot of vodka, you cringed at the now disgusting taste. The room was swaying, the music was too loud, and the sound of people cheering and laughing happily irked you to no end. But you loved it. It was something different, and you were too drunk to care. “Another round~” You slurred, slamming the small glass onto the bar top with a slight hiccup. The bartender winced, approaching you with a calm expression. “I’m sorry Ma’am, but we can’t serve you anymore, you’ve had too much to drink” he explained, shouting to be heard over the loud music. As you opened your mouth to respond, the crowd behind you began to cheer ecstatically. You sluggishly turned to see what all the commotion was about, feeling your buzz suddenly disappear, slamming you back into a state of mild sobriety as the crowd chanted a chorus of ‘Homelander! Homelander! Homelander!’.

You turned to face the bartender, leaning against the bar top as you slurred “Please, please just one more. I won’t tell anyone”. Hesitantly, the bartender obliged. He handed you one last shot glass, and cringed as you downed the vodka greedily. Just you placed the glass down before you, a shadow loomed over you to your right, the stupid blue suit and American flag cape obscuring your view. “Out of all the places I could find you, I find you here” Homelander shouted, leaning on his elbow against the bar with a taunting smirk. “Fuck off, I was having fun” You snapped in return, feeling a surge of happiness swell inside your chest as Homelander’s expression contorted into one of pure bewilderment. This was only your second meeting, and you had a horrifying feeling that drunk you would likely get you killed. But that small sober part of you was glad that drunk you would say what sober you couldn’t.

Homelander’s eyes narrowed, watching on in annoyance as you abruptly stood up from your seat from the bar. Tipping the bartender for his amazing service, you left the superhero behind and disappeared into the crowd, silently hoping that you would lose him as you left the nightclub. As you stepped outside into the cool night air, you sighed heavily in a mixture of frustration and content. A few moments of silence was all you could savour, as the door to the nightclub opened once more for Homelander to step out onto the street. You could hear his footsteps close behind you as you did your best to put some distance between the two fo you, though it didn’t help that you stumbled occasionally on raised parts of the pavement. “I have to ask, what are you doing here?” Homelander questioned, suddenly appearing in front of you and standing tall with his hands braced on his hips. You groaned, pushing past him as you could see your car down the street “When one has their life threatened by a supposedly beloved superhero, and their life has completely gone to shit, then I think I have a right to have a few moments of self loathing don’t you think?” you retorted, ignoring his scoff as you managed to fish your car keys out of the pocket of your jacket.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Homelander questioned, his tone of voice suddenly changing from cocky and sarcastic to concerned. You rolled your eyes, spinning clumsily to face him whilst throwing your arms out in exasperation “I’m going home, do you have any objections?”. Homelander’s eyes narrowed, his gaze flickering between you, your car, and the keys in your hands. As he stepped towards you, you stepped back, challenging him with a lopsided smirk. You could tell he was growing frustrated with your behaviour, and you enjoyed pissing him off so much. “You’re too drunk to drive-” “My buzz died when you entered the nightclub, so I think I’m sober enough to drive home....” you interrupted, bracing your hands on your hips and mocking his so-called heroic stance “and if I happen to die whilst driving home, it’s not your problem right?”.

Homelander’s expression changed into a deadly glare, his eyes glowing a faint red in anger. He stepped towards you, so close now that you stumbled back against the side of your car with a small yelp. His jaw clenched as he spoke “It is my problem, because you are the only chance I have to find Butcher. If you die, I have to start all over again, and I’d rather not to that”. “Oh, that’s such an inconvenience...” You responded sarcastically, lightly pushing the bastard away from you and turning back to face your car “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m done talking to you and I just want to go home”. Before you could even manage to unlock you vehicle, the keys were snatched from your hand, and you were suddenly lifted up into the supposed hero’s arms. You screamed, thrashing around in his grip. “Put me down you fucking arsehole!” You cried, hitting your hands against his chest whilst completely oblivious to your surroundings.

Homelander stared down at you with a cocky grin, tilting his head to the side with a small shrug of his shoulders before responding “Very well, if you insist”. And then suddenly, you were falling. You barely had enough time to scream, as Homelander’s form in the sky grew smaller and smaller. The wind blew your hair in all directions, and all you could do was gasp as the ground rushed up to meet you. You closed your eyes, bracing for the painful impact before you felt a strong pair of arms wrap around your form. You shrieked, opening your eyes to loud and obnoxious laughter as your found yourself in Homelander’s arms again. Hesitantly, you wrapped your arms around his neck and held yourself closer to him, out of fear that he would drop you again. You buried your head into his chest, not wanting to watch the world fly by as Homelander flew to your apartment. If you weren’t sober before, you definitely were now. Your heart thundered in your chest, and as Homelander gently set you down on the rooftop of your apartment complex, you leapt from his arms and collapsed to your knees. Your stomach churned angrily, the sick feeling growing more intense, and the alcohol didn’t help.

You could feel Homelander’s stare boring into your skull as you grovelled on the ground, as you tried to stop the world from spinning. Eventually, you managed to stand to you feet, bracing your hands on your knees as you swallowed thickly. You could feel the hero’s presence behind you, “There, that wasn’t so hard was-”

Crack!

Homelander stumbled backward as your clenched fist connected with his jaw. His mouth fell agape in shock, his eyes wide in stupor. As his gaze met yours, you stepped forward and pointed an accusing finger at his chest. Your eyes narrowed, practically seething with rage as you growled “Don’t you ever fucking do that again, ever”. Time suddenly slowed down as you realised what had just happened. You had punched him. You had punched Homelander, The World’s Greatest Superhero. “Oh fuck...” you mumbled, ignoring the throbbing pain coursing through your hand. You stood in horrified silence, as the man before you rubbed his jaw in surprise whilst an amused chuckle. If he said anything, you didn’t hear it, as you fled inside the complex and down to your apartment. Once you got inside, you locked the door, not that it would help much, and made a beeline for the small kitchen. You found a bottle of bourbon, half of its contents already gone, but you drank from it anyway. The amber liquid left a pleasant burning sensation at the back of your throat, but your true aim was to get your buzz back. It was better to be numb to everything if Homelander followed you downstairs. 

Whilst punching him in the face seemed like a good idea and an impressive feat, you were certainly regretting it. You downed the rest of the alcohol that remained and turned back to face your living room, a shocked scream leaving your lips. Homelander stood in the centre of the room, his arms folded across his chest as his expression formed a dangerous scowl. “How the fuck did you get in here!?” You exclaimed loudly, your eyes narrowing harshly whilst your grip tightened around the neck of the empty bourbon bottle. The bastard’s expression didn’t change as he responded “Your window is unlocked, you should probably fix that-” “Who the fuck is going to climb down the fire escape to the fifth floor to kill me!? You can fly, so you cheated”. The room fell into a heavy silence as you ran a stressed hand through your hair, your (eye/colour) eyes never leaving his own blue hues. You took a deep breath to try and calm your racing heart as the blue-clad tyrant approached, but it did you no good.

“Look, I’m sorry I punched you. Actually, no I’m not, you deserved it. But if you’ve decided to kill me now then go ahead and do it. But I’m letting you know that I have done everything you’ve asked. No one knows that you’re here, I haven’t told anyone that you’re practically using me as a hostage. The Boys don’t know anything about your random unscheduled visits, so do whatever you want-”

You froze mid-sentence as Homelander’s eyes began to glow, the red hue increasing in brightness. For a brief second, you thought that this was it. That The World’s Greatest Superhero was going to lazer you into oblivion. You tried not flinch as his gaze moved away from you at the last second, instead directed towards the kitchen island bench. You watched on in dread as your phone completely melted into nothing, the intense heat of his heat vision obliterating the metal mass into nothing. As Homelander approached, you didn’t meet his gaze. You could tell that the fucker was revelling in your fear, as he stood only inches away from you. “Next time, that will be you. Maybe you’ll think twice about punching The World’s Greatest Superhero, hm?” he taunted, before disappearing from your view. When you looked up, he was gone. The window to the fire escape was open, the only sign that Homelander had been here aside from the smouldering hole in your island bench.

You sighed heavily, blinking away the tears in your eyes as you trudged into you bedroom. All you wanted to do now was sleep, and forget about everything that had happened. There would be one hell of a hangover in the morning, but you hoped that it would give you something else to worry about than a mad superhero tyrant. 

[k-llama-llama]

Canvas

TXT AU: 6th member

Sara x TXT

Sara and Hyunjin take an important step.

A/N: Please check out my PATREON (patreon.com/kllamallama) for exclusive posts you can’t get anywhere else, as well as lots of other cool benefits!

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Sara undid the latch on the door, opening it wide. “You’re early.” She said in greeting.

Hyunjin held up a bag. “Food was quicker than I expected.”

Sara stepped aside so he could enter, kicking off his shoes in the doorway. “I thought you went to this restaurant all of the time. How did it surprise you?”

“I don’t know. It just did.” He smiled at her, before glancing around the apartment. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Out.” Sara said simply. “Why? Did you bring food for them too? You do have a lot there.”

Hyunjin shook his head with a laugh. “Soobin gave me a lecture about making sure you eat enough, so I just ordered extra of everything.”

Sara rolled her eyes, closing the door behind him. “That guy.” She shook her head. “I just have to put my paints away.”

“Ooh, paints?” Hyunjin set the bags on the kitchen counter. “Can I see?”

Sara stiffened. It wasn’t like she actively tried to keep her paintings secret. The boys had all seen them hundreds of times, and Tori snooped more often than not. But it wasn’t a common occurrence when someone actually wanted to see them.

“Sure.” She said finally. “I’m not done it yet, though.”

“That’s cool. I just wanna see.” Hyunjin put his hands in his pockets.

Sara turned and walked towards her bedroom without another work. The door was still open, so she walked right in, and Hyunjin closed the door behind her. The canvas was set up on her easel, showing the rudimentary color blocking for the painting she was working on.

“It’s not done.” She repeated, busying herself with putting her paints back in their case. She grabbed her brushed, wrapping them in a cloth so that she could wash them later.

“No, it’s awesome though.” Hyunjin leaned close, looking genuinely interested. “It’s the ocean, right? Like…this part is the sky and this is going to be the ocean? That’s why it gets darker as you go down.”

“Ah, kinda.” Sara bit her lip. “This half is the sky, and then in the middle is the ocean’s surface….and then this really dark bit is going to be like the bottom of the ocean.”

“That’s so cool.” Hyunjin exclaimed. “You can totally tell what it is, even with this much detail. I can’t wait to see it when you’re finished.”

Sara smiled. “Well….I’ll make sure to show you then.”

Hyunjin leaned back from the painting, glancing around the room. She had a sheet down on her bed, covered in paint smears. There was a murky glass of water that she’d obviously used to rinse her brushes as she worked, and the paints were scattered everywhere.

From there, his gaze shifted to the walls. She shared the room, but the walls around her bed were covered with tacked up sketches. It was almost comical, especially when you considered how neat and orderly she was with everything else. It wasn’t messy, just a type of organized chaos.

“You really drew all these?” He pointed at one.

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Eventually I’ll paint them. But I leave them up there until the inspiration hits, you know?”

“Sure.” He laughed. “We should go eat, right? Before the others get home and eat all of it?”

“Probably,” Sara laughed, picking up the cloth that held her dirty brushes. “Let’s go.”

She turned to leave, but Hyunjin stopped her with a hand on her elbow. “You have…uh…some paint…”

“What?” Sara reached up to rub her cheek. “Did I get it?”

“No, it’s right…” He reached up, using his thumb to wipe away the little smear of dark blue paint front next to her nose. “There…” He lowered his hand awkwardly.

Since their first date, there had been a kind of unspoken tension between them. They were probably dating, but they didn’t tell people that they were, and other than a lot of dinner dates and conversations, they hadn’t done anything else. There was always the risk that someone could see them, or that they would somehow make things more awkward.

But there was no way anyone could see them now.

“You can kiss me.” Sara said quietly. “I mean…if you want to.”

Hyunjin gave her an awkward smile. “You sure? You wouldn’t rather go out there and eat-“

Sara grabbed his shirt with her right hand and pulled him down to her level, pressing her lips against his. They stayed like that a moment, and then she released her grip and let him pull away.

“Was that too weird?” She asked. “I figured I’d just…you know…take the initiative or whatever.”

“That was…” Hyunjin blinked. “Ummm…yeah, that was….”

Sara winced. “Sorry. Sorry let’s just forget that ever happened. Let’s go eat the food and then we can pretend that this whole thing was a weird dream.”

“No!” He exclaimed. “Um, I mean…that was…really awesome.”

“It was?” Sara smiled. “Oh thank goodness. Tori said I should just go for it but I wasn’t really sure so I-“

“Tori told you?”

“Yeah.” Sara smiled sheepishly. “Well…she kinda just started talking. But it was okay? I didn’t ruin anything?”

“Not at all.” Hyunjin grinned.

Sara sighed in relief. “Okay, good. We should go eat before the food gets cold.”

“Wait! Can we…uh….just try that one more time?” Hyunjin mumbled.

“Right now?” Sara tilted her head. “What about the food?”

“It can wait a minute.” Hyunjin leaned forward. “Just…ah…close your eyes.”

Sara did.

When she felt him kiss her, she leaned in, letting him wrap his arms around her waist. They were both very tentative, but they started moving their lips together, getting the hang of it.

And then their little bliss was shattered by a scream.

They jumped apart, Hyunjin knocking his head on the bed post. Sara fell back onto the mattress, staring in disbelief at Yeonjun’s horrified face.

“You were…you were….” He looked between them in shock.

“You aren’t supposed to be home for another hour!” Sara shouted.

“What? I can’t come into my own house?”

“Not without telling me.”

“Why? Because you’re here making out with your boyfriend.”

“Okay, we were not making out.” Hyunjin cut in.

“You-“ Yeonjun pointed at him with a fury in his eyes. “I will deal with you later.”

“Jun, don’t be an idiot.” Sara tried to reason with him. “We were just…uh… kissing.” She looked down, slightly embarrassed by the admission herself.

“See, she was showing me her paintings and they-“

“I don’t recall her having any paintings on her face!” Yeonjun glared at him. “How could you? In our own home?”

“It my home too.” Sara rolled her eyes, dropping the paintbrushes onto her easel. “Come on, Hyunjin. Let’s go eat in the park.”

She grabbed his hand, dragging him past an outraged Yeonjun and into the living room.

“I don’t think I can just leave.” Hyunjin whispered. “Aren’t I supposed to beg forgiveness or-“

“You’re supposed to grab the food so we can.” Sara told him. “Come on. I’m hungry.”

“Right.” He clearly was torn between keeping his sort-of girlfriend happy, and making piece with her best friend.

He made the right choice.

“We can get drinks at the corner store.” He grabbed the bag of food, heading for his shoes. “Some of this is spicy so we’ll-“

“You’re just going to leave?” Yeonjun came out of the bedroom. “After I had to look at that.”

“So sorry.” Hyunjin said quickly.

“Yeah, we’re leaving.” Sara said at the same time. “There’s pasta in the fridge. Don’t wait up.”

“CHUNG SOO-JI!” Yeonjun shouted. “We are not done talking about this.”

“I say we are.” Sara gave him a smile. “Come on, Hyunjin.”

“Um, okay.” He took her outstretched hand, and followed her into the hallway.

She kicked the door closed behind them.

“Are you going to be in trouble?” He asked worriedly as they hurried down the hall.

Sara scoffed. “Please. I’m going to kick his ass when we get home.”

“Wow. Okay.” He stepped into the elevator with her. “Are you always that aggressive?”

“Just with them.” She squeezed his hand. “Not with you, I promise.”

“Cool cool.”