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[captainsophiestark]

The Old Me Never Left

Kai Parker x Reader

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Requested by Anon! Hope you like it!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Summary: Kai's SO gets grabbed by some witches in an attempt to make him cooperate, but those witches forgot exactly who they were dealing with.

Word Count: 1,635

Category: Angst, Fluff

A/N: Just a heads up, this has a little more description of violence and the reader in peril than my works usually do! Still very canon-typical for TVD though.

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

My favorite song blasted through my headphones as I walked, the sun gently shining down and making the world around me the perfect temperature. A light breeze blew across my face and I'd just picked up my favorite drink from my favorite cafe. It should've been the perfect moment.

Instead of enjoying the day, however, I was busy glancing in the reflective windows of buildings I passed, trying to keep an eye on the two people behind me. They'd been behind me for a while now, including at the coffee shop I'd stopped at, and my mental warning meter had quickly clicked into the red.

Since I regularly involved myself with supernaturals, especially since I'd started dating one, I'd had to be more on guard than ever for someone coming after me for something to do with all that. Very much inconvenient and sometimes truly terrifying, but lucky for me, I had a secret weapon.

Kai Parker. My boyfriend, and a siphoner-witch who just happened to be one of the most powerful people around. No matter if the threat behind me was supernatural or just regular humans being a problem, I knew Kai could and would take care of it for me.

I sped up slilghtly, chucking my still half-full drink in the trash and pulling my phone out of my pocket. Despite myself, my heart started racing faster, especially as I noticed the people behind me getting noticeably closer the next time I checked in a window. I quickly dialed Kai's number and held the phone to my ear, speeding up even more when I heard running footsteps behind me.

"Hey, sweetheart," came Kai's voice as I started running. I could hear his smile through the phone. "What's up?"

"Kai, I need you to come find me," I said, my voice urgent, the words coming out between fast breaths. "I was on my way to the park. I'm like a block or two away, coming from our cafe, and these people are following me-"

I heard someone behind me shout a word I didn't know, and a moment later, a splitting pain tore through my head. I screamed and fell to the ground, but I knew making a scene wouldn't help; these people were clearly witches. The extra seconds I'd had to talk to Kai were likely only because they'd been busy casting spells to hide me from passerby when I went down.

Vaguely, as I hit the pavement and the world went dark around me, the pounding in my head echoing throughout my body, I thought I heard Kai's voice. He sounded panicked, and he kept repeating my name over and over. I wanted to talk to him. I needed to talk to him, to reassure him, to help him with whatever had him freaking out. But I couldn't make myself move, especially not through the pain.

Finally, everything else faded to black, the pain disappearing with the rest of the world as Kai's voice danced through my head for one last blissful moment. And then he was gone, too.

****************

When I woke up, not everything came back to me right away. I wasn't totally sure where I was or how I'd gotten here, but I knew one thing: my body hurt.

Everything, top to bottom, ached or screamed at me in some way. And when the memories started coming back, of the witches and the panic in Kai's voice on the phone, my heart started clenching in my chest, too.

"Look who's awake."

A gruff voice drew my attention to a few figures in front of me. I couldn't totally make them out, my vision still a little blurry, but they clearly weren't friends.

"Who... are you?" I managed to groan. I tried to move, but found myself bound tightly to a chair. My head swam, a pain like a spike still focused into my forehead.

"We're friends of your boyfriend," said one in a tone that clearly meant the opposite. I groaned.

"What do you... want?"

"We want him to get in line," the one in the middle said. "The powerful heretic, wrongful leader of the Gemini Coven, finally has a weakness—you—so it's time for him to start playing nice."

I huffed a laugh which immediately turned into a painful cough. Still, I smiled and shook my head, even as it made the world spin beneath me.

"You're all fools. You can't control Kai, especially not like this."

"Oh, I think you're underestimating your importance to him significantly," said the one in the lead. I started to respond, but a familiar voice piped up from the back of the room before I could.

"Mm, I don't think this has anything to do with 'underestimating importance'. More like... one person in this room knows who I am, and everyone else forgot."

The men before me whirled around, giving me a clear line of sight to Kai as my vision finally started returning to normal. I swear at least half the adrenaline melted out of my body at the sight of him leaning casually against the doorframe of whatever room we were in. He looked completely casual and calm, until his eyes locked onto me. The teasing smile dropped from his face as he straightened, then faced the other witches again. The smile came back, but this time it had a much sharper edge to it.

"You know, it's funny," he said, voice like a steel blade. "People seem to think that just because I've chosen a peaceful life with someone I love, that I lost all my powers, or something. But I can tell you all right now: the Kai Parker of your nightmares didn't go anywhere."

The witches between Kai and I shifted nervously, removing his direct line to me and shifting backwards in my direction.

"You better be careful, Parker," said the one in the lead, all of the arrogance and confidence gone from his voice despite his attempt to posture. "You do what we say, or-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence before Kai raised a hand, magically yanking the witch forward and striking out with a knife in his other hand, stabbing the witch straight through the heart. The whole room froze in shock as Kai just held him there for a minute, surely siphoning the magic out of his body, before letting him fall to the floor limp and dead.

The minute his body hit the ground, the remaining witches sprang into action. Most of them tried to focus fire on Kai, but one dropped back towards me, moving to stand behind me and my chair. In the time it took him to cross the room, Kai made quick work of the rest of his friends, draining all of their power before finishing them off and dropping them with their fallen leader.

"Stop!" shouted the one behind me. "Don't make another move or I'll- ah!"

He screamed, and I heard a sound like him dropping to his knees. Before me, Kai had one hand extended, a thunderous look on his face. He scrunched his hand into a fist, and the man behind me fell silent, other than the sound of his body hitting the floor.

Just like that, the rage melted off Kai's face. He crossed the room to me in a second, dropping to his knees before me and gently running his hands over my forearms and thighs. A moment later, the bonds holding me fell away.

"Are you alright, baby?" he asked, eyes wide with concern as his hands ghosted over my body, simultaneousy checking for injury while reassuring him I was really here. "I'm so sorry they hurt you. I came as fast as I could."

I nodded shakily, rubbing at my wrists before running a hand down Kai's face. He leaned into the touch, his eyes instantly romaing my expression.

"I'm okay now," I said, voice still a little breathy. "I'm okay. I knew you'd come for me."

"I'll always come for you. Nothing in the world could keep me away. Nothing." I nodded, a smile making its way onto my face as Kai brushed a few tears from my cheek that I hadn't realized had fallen. "And now, none of them are ever going to hurt you again."

Kai's eyes darkened a little as he said it, so I brushed my thumb across his cheek and gave him a small smile. Just like that, the shadows vanished from his face again as his eyes focused on me. I leaned forward and Kai did the same, our lips meeting a moment later in a soft, sweet kiss. I felt the warm tingle of magic flowing across my skin, erasing all the last aches and pains, until Kai and I finally pulled apart.

A fluttering smile made its way onto Kai's face as his eyes scanned mine again. Finally, he sighed.

"You ready to go home, sweetheart?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

"Me too."

Kai shot me a wink as he scooped me into his arms, then carried me out of the room, stepping carefully over the bodies he'd left in his wake. He held me a little tighter to him as we left the room, and I buried my head in his chest. Kai and I had both changed a lot since we'd first met, but at the end of the day, we were still the same people. He would still do anything for me, and although it didn't come up as often, I would do anything for him. And no one, be they murderous witches or particularly rude people I happened to cross paths with in my daily life, stood at chance at bringing the two of us down.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21

[cosmicstarlatte]

You ARE The Father! Pt.2 (Obey Me!)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

->Click here for [Part 1: Demon Bros]

After getting back to the human world you realized you were pregnant. You decided to keep it a secret your whole pregnancy. After having the baby/babies for a few weeks, you finally decide to tell your baby daddy.

»Characters: Dateables

»Tags: Unplanned Pregnancy, Female Reader, Fluff and Angst, Certified Simeon Simp, Just a Smidge of Humor, Half-story Half-bulleted style

»Notes: I really hope you guys like this one, it felt so good to finally write part 2. 🥺♡

Diavolo:

Separating from him to go back home after the program was difficult but you decided it was for the best at the time, for him and the realm. It was heartbreaking and you might've regreted it a little. Anyway when you realized you were pregnant with his child, you were nervous to tell Diavolo about it. He already had so much on his plate everyday. You didn't want to bother him with appointments and other things. He had a whole realm to take care of after all. But you also knew you couldn't keep the secret forever (especially because what if your baby needed special demon care?) You finally call him one day weeks after birth.

"What exactly... are you saying...? I'm a father...? And you kept this from me!? I'm on the way!"

Understandably upset with your decision to keep it a secret from him but ecstatic you gave him a child

A family...his own little family...oh his heart ♡

Still felt guilty, did you not know how much you mean to him!? How broken he was and how much he loved you!? He would've taken care of your every need and been there the second you told him!

He arrived only minutes after the call and alone (He dipped so quick without telling Barb, oops!)

His son was so tiny in his arms! The baby shifted into demon form!

Teared up because he resembled him so much, same horns and wings!

Kissed and cuddled the heck out of you two

"You two will always come first. You're both my everything. Don't ever doubt that. And...we handle everything together, okay?"

He proposed with the ring he never got to give you 🤧

He moved you guys into the castle the same day and Barb lost his shit but in a good way

He noticed his son was a happy giggly demon but with a biting problem, especially when upset

Barbatos:

You wondered if Barbatos knew but ultimately decided he didn't. After all, he would have said something by now. You felt horrible for keeping the secret but you knew he had a duty of serving Diavolo; which helped run the Devildom. Barbatos would have helped you, you knew in your heart he would. You just didn't want to worry him while on the journey is all. Finally when everything was settled, you give him the call.

"Understood. I will visit shortly."

You didn't see the way his eyes widened at the news but he believed you and was well on his way to you after the call

He felt quite guilty and upset that you did something so grand, all alone

Nevertheless he still loved you and was excited yet nervous to meet his baby

The first thing he did when he saw you was kiss your forehead before holding his son

The baby shifted and he gasped at the miniature him, he was absolutely in love and even shifted into demon form himself

"The two of you mean the entire world to me. I feel our future is very bright. I vow to always love and protect you both."

He had called Dia and Luci to explain his absence

Stayed a few days to bond with you two (he grabbed a Go-Bag before leaving, butlers must always be prepared!)

Later moved you two into the castle to a very excited uncle Dia

He noticed his son was particular about his milk

Simeon:

You really struggled with the decision of letting him know. You were scared of the consequences he would face. You decided to keep it a secret as much as possible but one day he requested a video call when regular calls weren't enough anymore. You looked very much the same and everything was going great and that's when his daughter started crying in the background. Simeons' heard the cries before in past calls and to his knowledge you babysat frequently.  He understood you had to go check. You didn't realize he could see the baby when you picked her up, you thought your back kept her hidden from view. He immediately knew. There was no doubt that was his baby girl. He questioned you about her and you tried to deny it but ended up confessing. You couldn't lie to him anymore.

"I'll see you two soon."

He was highly upset but thought about it more and knew why you did it

He didn't mean to put you in that position and ended up being more upset in himself

He loved you so much and hoped he could make it up to you

He hoped you could forgive him for not coming sooner but he had something to do first before seeing you two

He found Luke and chatted with him normally; he told him what a great angel he was and offered a bit of wisdom

He hugged the young angel for the last time

"Luke...I'm sorry and I hope you forgive me."

He knew that left Luke confused after such a normal conversation but Simeon couldn't bear to explain everything

After telling Michael what happened and being banished from the celestial realm, he finally made his way to you

Yes he was hurting from the loss but there was no doubt in his mind and he had no regrets overall

When he arrived and held his daughter, she glowed and he teared up

"You're an angel alright, a beautiful one."

You cried for him and he reassured you that everything will be fine, he was excited for his new family and he had no regrets

"I would do it all over again, and again, and again.♡"

He noticed his daughter loves falling asleep to his stories

Solomon:

You didn't keep it a secret from him actually. There wasn't really a reason to nor would you be able to hide it from him in the human realm.

"Me? A father?"

Was shocked for a few days, he never thought he'd see the day that would happen

He was happy for the two of you of course but it all seemed surreal

Was supportive throughout the pregnancy and tried to find ways to make it easier for you

He tried cooking more and you begged him not to

He nearly fainted at the news of twin girls

On the due date;  all the books he read didn't seem like enough preparation

He teared up when you crushed his hand during labor

Oh he was in love when he heard the cries and even more when he saw they looked just like him

"You girls are going to run this world!" "Solomon."

"Right. WE'RE going to run this world."

Published a book called Dad Jokes Through the Centuries

Solomon: Family Man Extraordinaire ™️

He noticed his daughters seemed drawn towards his magical objects than their own toys

Also:

⬦You might also like: MC Feeling Insecure

[kaminocasey]

25 Days of Life Day: Day 15 - Stuck in the Cold with Wolffe

Summary: You and Wolffe are on your way to a party and you get stuck out in the snow, so you try to find a place to get warm!

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Suggestive content, nudity, light angst

A/N: Okay a few things, I'm SO sorry I'm so behind. I'm gonna try to get caught up! We had the Steel City Con and then I had to go back to work and then we got sick... so it's been a rough week lol. Anyway, I had to throw Gregor and my OC Cassia in there for a little fun-sy thing. Lol. Okay back to our regular programming! S/O to @rebelsriley for the Wolffe inspo! <3

“I told you we were going to be late to the party.” You grumble, your teeth chattering violently from the cold. 

You’re normally a generally pretty happy person, but unfortunately, stepping in the freezing cold foot high snow is what’s putting you in a bad mood. Especially dressed for a party, and not for snow. Where the hell did this snow even come from?

“Yeah, well… if you hadn’t taken two hours to get ready...” Wolffe snips back, frozen white flakes getting stuck in his dark lashes. 

The two of you are on your way to a party at Gregor and his partner Cassia’s apartment. Wolffe had suggested that the two of you walk and then the snow started coming down thickly. He had been saying for the last hour or so “Not much farther” but you’re pretty sure that you’re lost. So when you suggested that he comm someone, he went to pull out his comm device and found that it was dead. Then, you went to try to use yours except you left it at home.

So that’s how your night is going.

“It wasn’t two hours.” You snap. 

“Oh, I’m sorry… an hour and fifty minutes.” He grunts. 

“We need to get out of this snow. Now.” You insist, ignoring his snide comment.

“You think I don’t know that?” He’s been surveying your surroundings for the last fifteen minutes trying to find a safe place to stop and get out of the cold. 

At this point, he’s willing to splurge on a hotel, but the closest thing he can see is a sketchy motel. 

“That place is fine.” You point at the sketchy motel.

“Fine.” He grunts, trying to hide just how cold he is. 

Wolffe also tries to ignore how close you are to him, knowing it’s only because you’re so cold. You weren’t even supposed to be with him right now. Rex had invited you and the look in your eyes was so starry when he asked you. And then Rex had asked Wolffe to pick you up and bring you. He still doesn’t know why.

When you arrive at the dingy motel, the two of you walk into the main office, warm air immediately hitting you in the face so nicely that you both let out a satisfied “Ahhh.” 

The small Aleena man at the desk peers over the counter at you and Wolffe, nervously glancing at Wolffe when he realizes he’s a clone.

You look up at Wolffe, smirking when you realize that he’s thinking of the time that the 104th had to go to Aleen and when he looks down at you, he rolls his eyes. 

“Two rooms.” Wolffe mumbles and you elbow him in the side. “Please.”

You smirk up at him again, going warm in the face from how well he reads you. You have been nursing a crush on the man since the moment you met him, grumpiness and all. You work with the Wolfpack closely as a translator since Wolffe absolutely refused to work with C3-PO ever again. “Only have one available.” He tells Wolffe. 

You and Wolffe share a look and with a sigh, he holds his hand out for the key card. The man gives Wolffe the card and you give the Aleena a polite smile as Wolffe leads you back outside into the cold, and then up some stairs that lead to the rooms. 

When you get up to the room, Wolffe groans and you peer around him, seeing that the room only has one bed. Because of course it does. 

“What a romcom trope.” You laugh, nervously.

“What does that even mean?” He grumbles, going around the room and inspecting it. “Lock the door.”

“Yes sir.” You grumble right back.

He pauses, his shoulders rigid, and looks up at you, his eyes wide. Going hot all over, the cold forgotten, you swallow dryly. Wolffe eyes your form, up and down and you feel like you’re going to combust if he continues to look at you like that.

“What?” You demand, nervously.

“Our clothes are sopping wet…” He turns to crank the heater up and groans, irritated but unsurprised. “Fucking heater doesn’t even work properly…” 

You let out a nervous laugh again and he rolls his eyes, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Glad you think this is funny.” He starts to take his coat off and then his sweater and you turn around. 

“What are you doing?” You ask him.

“You wanna freeze to death in your wet cold clothes? Strip. Now. And then get under the blanket.” He uses his Commander voice and you feel like you’re definitely on fire now. 

You’re absolutely torn because Maker, that commanding tone? But also like… getting naked in the same vicinity as Wolffe? It feels like the universe is playing some cruel prank on you. The man hates you. He makes it well known that he thinks you’re only a burden. 

“I’m… sorry.” He offers, softer, behind you, noticing you pausing. “Just… if you want, I can put a pillow between us… We need to get our body temperatures back up.” 

He’s right. You know he’s right. 

“I won’t look.” He promises you.

But you don’t think you’d mind if he did. Nevertheless, you strip down to nothing and climb under the covers. You’re still shaking under the cover and you can’t tell if it’s from being cold or being near Wolffe. 

“I’m sorry for… earlier.” Wolffe murmurs. 

You shrug, looking over at him. He doesn’t look so big and bad now that he has a blanket pulled up to his chin. You actually can’t help but smile. 

“It’s alright. It’s who you are. I wouldn’t ask you to change.” You shrug. 

“You wouldn’t?” He looks over at you.

“Nah.” You grin.

He gives you a small smile and your chest tightens. 

“Sorry this was a rotten Life Day… I’m sure you’d rather be here with someone more… pleasant.” He murmurs. “Like Rex.” 

You’re still trembling, which Wolffe notices and wants desperately to pull the pillow away so he can pull you to him and warm you up himself. 

“Nope.” You tell him, turning over, scooting closer to the pillow. 

He does the same, so now you’re both cuddling the pillow and your fingers are mere centimeters from each other. 

“No?” 

“Not at all.” 

“I thought when Rex invited you…”

You chuckle. “I think Rex is really nice… but I prefer my men a little grumpy and just over everyone’s shit at all times.” 

He lets out a genuine laugh and it’s probably one of the nicest sounds you’ve ever heard. 

“I honestly thought you hated me…” You admit to him, quietly.

He’s watching your hand and decides to bravely place his over yours. Relief fills his veins when you don’t pull away. Wolffe suddenly realizes why Rex had him bring you to the party. He either owes Rex a handshake or a beating, he isn’t sure yet. 

“I could never.” He tells you, honestly. “Your sunshine demeanor keeps me going most days, if not all days…” 

The breath hitches in your throat at his admission. “Can we…” You pat the pillow and he nods, quickly pulling it away and dropping it on the floor, pulling your body against his immediately, as if he’s been dying to do that. 

He starts to open his mouth to say something, but you clumsily crush your lips to his, making him immediately melt against you. He groans against your lips, enveloping you in his arms, warmth spreading through both of your veins so lightning fast you think you feel warm again.

“I could think of another way to get us warm.” He teases, lightly.

“You read my mind.” You chuckle, tangling your legs with his. 

Somehow, this Life Day turned out to be the best one yet. 

TAGS: @twistedstitcher27 @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting  @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @idledreams @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz  @burningfieldof-clover

[sopebubbles]

Chapter Eleven

Summary: How many men will it take to save you? To be honest, you’ve gotten pretty used to saving yourself. Even though you’re far from a delicate thing, Los Angeles is a dangerous place you can’t seem to escape no matter how hard you try. The top 7 members of Bangtan should never have crossed your path, but they soon find they’d do just about anything to help you escape your past and make it safe for you to stay. But will you?

Genre: mafia au, poly ot7, angst, some smut, honestly a lot more fluff than i expected, POC reader/oc

A/n: I'm sorry this update is a little shorter than the others! I think thematically it made sense to separate them this way. Also I swear I did not mean to post this on beastie-writes 😪 so I'm sorry if that threw anybody off! I made the update and saw my draft was saved under the wrong name and didn't want to start over. The other chapters will continue on sopebubbles!

A/n 2: I am re-posting this chapter because t*mblr did a t*mblr thing and deleted @/beastie-writes, where this chapter was originally posted. It's not new. Now back to our regular programing.

Warnings: angst and lots of feeling (hopefully good ones too!!)

Word count: 3.8K

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It was easy to fall into a routine at the Bangtan house. You’d wake up in the morning, grab something to eat and chat with Jungkook by the poolside before he left with Namjoon to fulfill their duties. Then you’d “go for a walk” around the house. You told yourself that this was to wear off some of your excess energy and become familiar with the grounds in case you needed to escape, but the fact that your walk ended every day with you finding Yoongi was not lost on either of you. 

Yoongi was endeared to see the way you would shuffle and stare at your feet, asking him what he was up to when what you really wanted was to sit on the couch and watch dramas together. You may not have wanted to take him away from his work or maybe you just weren’t in the habit of asking for what you wanted, but regardless of you never expressing your wish, Yoongi was always happy to be the first one to offer.

“Do you want to finish watching that drama from yesterday?” he’d ask, watching your face brighten as you’d nod eagerly. “Lemme finish up here and you can go grab Jimin.”

And you would. Because their roles rarely required them to leave the grounds, Jimin and Yoongi became your natural drama buddies. Every afternoon you’d pile on the couch together while Yoongi gathered snacks. They always seemed to be able to spare a couple of hours for you. Even Jimin, who at first seemed apprehensive around you, was showing signs of enjoying your company.

Jimin started sitting closer to you on the couch and offering you some of his snacks. He liked to look up fan theories on his phone while you guys watched and would often share them with you and ask your opinion about them after each episode. 

But Jimin noticed the way you never closed the distance when you sat near him on the couch, how you kept your muscles tense even as Yoongi catered to you. There was a calculation in your movements so that even as you were at-ease in your body language, you were never quite relaxed. Jimin wondered if he was contributing to your tension. He thought he was demonstrating his acceptance of you, but maybe he needed to do more.

“Val, do you want to cuddle?” Jimin asked one afternoon while you were both waiting for Yoongi to bring snacks.

The question caught you completely by surprise, your face heating with embarrassment, “I…um…”

“You don’t have to,” Jimin added nonchalantly. “I just thought it would help.”

“What would help?” Yoongi asked, setting the popcorn down in front of you.

“Us cuddling with Val.”

“And that would help with what exactly?” You kept your face to the paused screen in front of you, not trusting yourself to look at either of the men giving you their full attention.

Jimin shrugged, “You just hold yourself like someone who’s been rejected, but we’re not rejecting you. So I thought maybe us holding you would make you realize we’re not rejecting you.”

Yoongi chuckled awkwardly. Jimin’s brand of matter-of-fact honesty always toed the line of refreshing and uncomfortable. Jimin was sharply attuned to people’s body language, but not in predicting how his words could make other people feel. “There’s no pressure. You don’t have to,” Yoongi offered kindly, giving you an out.

“It…it might be nice,” you whispered shyly. You thought back to the tender touches and closeness you shared with Taehyung and how nice it used to feel. But back then, it always led to something more. “Only cuddling, right?”

“If that’s what you want,” Jimin shrugged again, leaving the implication that you could want more hanging in the air.

“Only cuddling. And if you want to stop, just tell us you want to stop,” Yoongi assured.

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling awkward about what to do next.

Jimin scooted closer to you, tapping on his chest, “Go ahead, snuggle up. I’m softer than Yoongi-hyung.”

Yoongi scoffed and you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you as you curled up against Jimin’s chest. He was comfy and warm, smelling of clean laundry as he let his arm hang lazily around you.

“You can lay out your legs across mine,” Yoongi suggested, scooting closer to you and Jimin. You were still a little worried as you stretched yourself across Yoongi, but he gave you a reassuring pat. “It’s like I have a Val blanket,” he giggled.

You could have laughed at that too, lost in the giddiness of how cozy you felt. But instead, you hummed in acknowledgement, already being lulled by Jimin’s heartbeat and the warmth of his chest. 

Jimin glanced down to see you completely slack against him, eyes heavy as your breath evened. He smirked, satisfied that he had finally gotten you to relax as he started to play with your hair, earning a happy sigh from you. 

>>>>

“You look rested,” Jin mentioned, as he finished chopping up some green onion. His usual “Kiss the Cook” apron was tied around him while he reached for mushrooms to chop. 

Your stomach swirled with uneasiness as you thought back to how you fell asleep on Jimin’s chest during your afternoon cuddle session. You’d woken up to a gentle nudge from Yoongi, your fists clenched tightly in Jimin’s shirt and a small drool stain where you had rested your head on Jimin’s chest. Jimin was unbothered, and rather amused to see how relaxed you had been, but the thought of you letting go of your well-practiced control, even for a moment, unsettled you. You made a quick apology and excused yourself to help Seokjin, who had started the habit of coming over to make dinner in the evenings. 

“What’re you making?” You asked, pointedly ignoring his comment and hopping up on the stool across from him.

“Doenjang-jjigae,” Jin answered with a happy hum, expertly cutting up the vegetables in front of him. Having watched him for several days now, this was not the first time you wondered what other skills Jin wielded with a knife.

“Jjigae? Is that stew?” You guessed.

Jin nodded, “It’s made with a soy-bean paste. It’s a pretty common dish.”

You gave a thoughtful hum, but said nothing more.

“Is something bothering you?” Jin asked, combining the vegetables together. “Normally by this point you’re asking how you can help and taking it upon yourself to add seasoning to everything. Yesterday I nearly had to wrestle you to the ground to prevent you from dumping a whole tub of gochujang into the japchae.”

“Gochujang is good though,” you grumbled, poking at a bit of mushroom that rolled across the counter.

“Yaeya, dong-uihae! But the secret to good japchae is the right balance of soy sauce and brown sugar and I have been perfecting that balance for decades.”

“You’re not that old.”

“I started young. Do you think I let my mother eat bad japchae after I was conceived? No! She had terrible morning sickness because of me and lots of bad japchae,” Seokjin was basically shouting as he dumped the vegetables into the bubbling broth.

You laughed heartily, hands covering your face at Jin’s overzealousness. With a spirit like his, you imagine his mother probably did get indigestion.

“Why’re you always coming over here to cook dinner if you have your own place?” You asked once your laughter subsided.

“I asked you a question first.”

“I’m ignoring it.”

Seokjin shrugged as if to say “suit yourself”  before responding, “Namjoon asked me to. He wants to make sure you stay well-nourished and I’m the best cook in the bunch, so…” he gestured openly with his arms, “here I am.”

“No offense, but you don’t really seem like the type to follow orders,” you mused.

“None taken,” he replied, focusing now on on the slow-cooked beef from the oven. The smells in the kitchen were starting to blend together and permeate the air, making your stomach rumble inaudibly. “There’s no shame in following orders. Plus, I get to enjoy your company.”

You pouted, unsatisfied and hungry, “I don’t believe you.”

“That there’s no shame in following orders or that I enjoy your company?”

“Both.”

“Well, the most powerful thing you can do is believe you have power in the first place; regardless of if you’re on the giving or receiving end of orders,” Seokjin explained, putting the beef into the stew and lowering the temperature on the stove to a simmer. You grunted, still not impressed. Power was power in your mind. You either took what was yours or you didn’t. “And as far as your company,” Seokjin continued. “It’s a tragedy you’re the last to know, but you’re kinda cool to hang out with.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed. “All I do is sit around all day.”

Seokjin’s eyes widened dramatically and, putting a hand to his mouth, he gasped in mock-horror, “I hadn’t considered that. I guess I am having a terrible time.”

“Cállate, pendejo,” you laughed.

“Once I figure out what that means, I’ll have a very witty comeback,” Seokjin grinned, wagging a finger at you. “Go get the others, dinners ready.”

>>>>>>>

You wouldn’t want to admit it, but you enjoyed the cacophony of the Bangtan dinner table. So often you were left to eat dinner either by yourself or, on rare occasions, with Joaquin, that you weren’t sure how everyone could be so noisy and chew their food at the same time. Even just the hums and moans they made as they ate and complimented the food made the meals loud even without active conversation. It seemed like every meal was the best meal they ever ate. And to be fair, every meal was delicious. Perhaps Seokjin really was the best cook in the bunch, though you hadn’t tried everyone else’s cooking to compare it.

You liked to sit next to Yoongi during dinner. Partly because Yoongi was good at loading your plate while explaining what you were eating and how to eat it. But mostly because, even if you were still embarrassed from earlier, Yoongi always had a way of making you feel safe and unjudged.

“Keep your thumb steady and only move your pointer finger. And remember, we have forks,” Yoongi advised as he watched your kimchi sliding off your chopsticks again and again.

“She’s got it, she’s got it,” Hoseok chanted in Korean. You were sticking your tongue out a bit in concentration, studying carefully with furrowed brows as the red piece of cabbage made it to your lips. The entire table erupted in applause and you scooted your chair back to stand up and take a bow.

“To Val!” Namjoon cheered, raising a shot glass of soju, the other men echoing “To Val!” as they downed their shot.

When you plopped back into your chair, you reached for Yoongi’s hand on the table and while everyone was laughing and carrying on you whispered, “Thank you for always looking out for me, Oppa.”

Your heart swelled while you watched his ears turn red, “Always,” he whispered back, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. 

The dinner continued on in a light-hearted, joyous mood with little talk of Bangtan’s work life or your dire predicament. You tried to let yourself be lulled by the conversation, but the unease you were familiar with was back, bubbling up through your stomach and clawing its way to your throat. You kept quiet though, looking out over the table, listening to the blend of Korean and English around you, wondering when they might confront you about earning your keep or when they might get sick of taking care of you and ask you to leave. No one could really be that impressed with your ability to use chopsticks. It was silly and stupid and everyone else could do it anyway, so why did they need to pretend on your behalf? Were they setting you up for something? Trying to gain your trust? You became acutely aware of how you had slumped in your chair and were no longer contributing to the conversation. Were you killing the mood? Were the boys aware of how untrusting you were? Would they care? Your eyes settled on the empty spot where Taehyung still failed to show up for dinner. He wasn’t there because you didn’t want to see him. You knew that. You had asked for this space and he was giving it to you. It was kind, more kind than you were used to or expected. Everything here was. But why did it feel ominous now? Where was the catch?

“Excuse me,” you said, standing up with a polite smile before you finished your plate. “Everything was delicious, Seokjin, thank you.”

If anyone noticed the way your mood was faltering, no one said anything. Seokjin had been laughing at something Hoseok was telling him when he passively said, “My pleasure! It’s nice to have your moral support in the kitchen.”

“Do you need me to get you anything?” Yoongi asked, searching your face for an explanation as to why you were leaving early.

“I’m good, Oppa,” You lied. “Just a little tired.”

Yoongi nodded, “I’ll clean up your plate. Don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you.”

It felt like miles before you got to your bed, but when you finally reached it, you buried your face into a pillow and let yourself cry.

>>>

The light from outside your bedroom shone underneath the door creating dramatic shadows from the furniture in the room. Sitting up slowly, you blinked and rubbed your puffy eyes. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep but you were grateful that it was dreamless. Unfortunately, it meant that you would have an even harder time falling back to sleep. You sighed, the heaviness of your emotions had subsided but the echo of them was still there. You let yourself be ebbed by the flow of your aimless thoughts until your mind found itself back to when you had napped earlier that day. Between Yoongi and Jimin. Against Jimin’s chest. There was no pressure or expectation in listening to Jimin breathe and the way he and Yoongi avoided clinging to you made you feel secure in the fact that you could leave whenever you wanted. It was nice and you missed it. It was warm and you wanted more.

Before you could chastise yourself for being greedy, you left the room quickly to find Jimin. You told yourself, at the very least, you could apologize for drooling on his shirt earlier. Lucky for you, no one was around as you made your way to the basement, so you could avoid explaining your true motives.

When you approached the door, you heard gunfire and shouting. Jimin was clearly yelling at his TV. You knocked on Jimin’s door tentatively.

“Fuck this, man.” Jimin grumbled from the other side of the door. The noises from the action sequence stopped suddenly as he called, “Come in!”

“I think you’re loosing your touch–” another voice teased as you opened the door to see Jimin leaning back on his couch, game controller to his left as he idly played with Taehyung’s hair and watched you come in. It took you a second to register what you were seeing. Taehyung was stretched out on the couch, head in Jimin’s lap, game controller in hand. Neither of them were wearing shirts and their sweatpants hung low around their hips. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before, but you still looked away. “Sorry, if I’m interrupting something…” you trailed off, rubbing your arm to get rid of the goosebumps.

“No, no,” Taehyung shot off of Jimin’s lap and to his feet. “I’m sorry. I can leave, it’s getting late anyway–”

“It’s okay,” you said, finding his eyes to show him you meant it. “You can stay. It’s, um…Nice to see you.” Even this small confession left your heart aching in your chest. After everything that happened, you hoped Taehyung didn’t hate you, but you also hoped you wouldn’t have to explain yourself tonight. “Please stay.”

Jimin watched the two of you, not sure of what to make of the exchange. He ultimately decided it wasn’t his responsibility to figure out why the two of you looked so uncomfortable, so instead he said, “Did you need something?”

“I just wanted to apologize for earlier,” you answered, sheepishly. Now that you were actually in Jimin’s space, your plan felt very silly. 

“What happened earlier?” Jimin said, confused. He was genuinely unaware of something you had done wrong and you had never visited him before, so all of this seemed highly uncalled for.

“When I drooled on you…” You replied, feeling more and more embarrassed by the moment.

“Oooh,” Jimin realized. “Oh that? It’s fine. Sometimes people drool when they’re relaxed. I think it’s kind of nice.”

“Did you guys play together?” Taehyung asked, trying to hide his shock.

“Play together?” You echoed, having no idea what Taehyung meant.

“Nah, she fell asleep on my chest and drooled on my shirt,” Jimin said easily. “I have an extra controller. Do you want to play with us?”

You looked at the screen with the words Call of Duty across the top, “I’ve never played video games before.”

“This wouldn’t be a good one to start with then,” Jimin thought out loud. “You guys should sit down. I’m gonna get the Switch so we can play Mario Kart. I’ll be right back.”

Jimin stretched as he stood up, cracking his neck as he did so, and briskly walked out of the room, leaving you and a shirtless Taehyung standing in the middle of the room, dim lighting letting the weight of each other’s presence be known.

“Are you sure it’s okay if I stay?” Taehyung asked hesitantly.

“Yes, but could you put on a shirt please?”

“Right,” Taehyung said, suddenly embarrassed. You turned your eyes to him, watching as his white tshirt fell loosely over his tanned shoulders, hiding away the muscles in his back that you once knew so well. That ache you had returned again and you were suddenly desperate for being held. Your emotions bubbled up to your throat as you struggled to swallow them back, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to be soothed. 

Taehyung’s heart broke as he turned back to look at you. You were only a few feet in front of him and closer than you had been in weeks, but standing there, looking so small as you held yourself away from him, he thought you were farther than ever. He wanted to kiss you again and keep you safe in his arms. He wanted to explain that when he called you his before it was only because his heart knew it found its missing piece when he met you and that he was wrong to think of himself as entitled to you and he was sorry he ever did. He was a monster in your life while you were the light in his and he was so, so sorry.

When Jimin walked into the room, he noticed that you were both on the brink of tears. He knew that you both had history with one another, but he wasn’t quite sure what could cause such a reaction when neither of you had even been talking to each other.

“Do you guys need to hug?” Jimin suggested.

“Um..” You knew your answer before Jimin had even asked the question, every nerve in your body was begging for it. 

Jimin narrowed his eyes like he had formed some conclusion while observing you, “I think you guys need to hug.”

“Please,” you had barely gotten the word out when Taehyung closed the distance and wrapped his arms around you. Breathing in the familiar scent broke the last defense you had in protecting yourself from your emotions. You nuzzled into his chest and let the tears fall from your face, feeling a wetness against your shoulder as Taehyung buried his face in your neck.

Taehyung tried not to squeeze you too tight despite the overwhelming sense of relief he felt with having you in his arms. He told himself that even if this was all you were willing to give him for the rest of your life, he would accept it. He would never again ask for more than what you were willing to give. His shoulders shook as he wept against you and eventually he felt you rubbing his back, still not moving away or asking him to let go.

Jimin was content to let the moment continue for as long as you both needed, seeing that there was a lot that you guys needed to process even if neither of you had words for it yet. 

Eventually, your tears had stopped and you whispered gentle shushing against Taehyung, feeling warmth spread throughout your body at feeling the weight of him in your arms. Slowly, he pulled himself away from you, looking down at you with a sense of wonder that you hoped you returned in kind. Whatever the embrace had done for you, it appeared Taehyung had needed it just as desperately.

“Do you guys still want to play Mario Kart?” Jimin asked, already moving to set up the switch as if you had said yes.

You giggled wetly, still high from your relief, “Sure.”

Taehyung also laughed, a little awkwardly as he ran his fingers through his hair, “Yeah, that sounds fun.”

Jimin turned back to the two of you, noticing something he had missed before, “Do I need to put on a shirt too?”

“If you don’t mind,” You said.

“I’ll wear a fuzzy shirt so you can lay against me again,” Jimin announced. “I think you like cuddling.”

You had experienced too many emotions today to be embarrassed anymore or try to deny it, so instead you nodded, “I think you’re right.” You turned to Taehyung. “You’ll stay and cuddle too, right?”

Taehyung could have cried again if he hadn’t already drained himself of all of it. He sniffled, happily, “If you want me to.”

“I want you to,” You assured, taking his hand and leading him over to the couch. Jimin plopped on the other side of you, wearing a fuzzy black sweater. You were all snuggled up together, you leaning into Jimin and Taehyung leaning into you. Your leg was trapped between Taehyung’s body and the couch but you wouldn’t complain. You didn’t want anything to change. 

Chipper music began as the start menu loaded, looking at the tiny controller in your hand, you couldn’t help your fit of laughter.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” you said, not sure if you meant the game or in general.

“Don’t worry,” Jimin said, quickly making selections on the screen before you were able to choose your own character. “We’ll help you.”

[a-casual-kpopfan]

Moreeee angst

-🥹

In Your Eyes - Chuu

A/N: Now back to our regular programs of Loona fics.

This was a different kind of angsts I came out with, let me know how it! (:

“Oppa?” A very excited peach pops out of bed after hearing your voice pop through her bedroom door, but without knowing she trips over the lip of the carpet, but just like Korean dramas, you catch Jiwoo before she had made impact with the hardwood floor of her bedroom. “Yah, Jiwoo, you can’t keep running out of bed every time you hear me.” You were scolding her but then again, Jiwoo falling into your arms is always enjoyable.

“I’m sorry oppa, I was just so excited to see you again.” You pick up Jiwoo maiden style as she wraps her arms around your neck, one hand feeling your face before she leaves a kiss on your left cheek. “Everyday Jiwoo?” “Everyday oppa.”

You lay Jiwoo back down in the bed, kissing her forehead and patting the top of her head, you knew she always loved head pats. “I’ll be back Jiwoo, I brought us some food.” You left her bedroom to make way to the kitchen where you left a couple of plastic bags groceries and a bento box you picked up on the way over.

“Jiwoo-ah, I got your favourite! ~” You brought in the bento with a pair of chopsticks, the smell of the food immediately catches Jiwoo’s attention. “Waaaah, did you get me bulgogi?” Jiwoo can recognize this smell anywhere she’s been to; you knew it’s her favourite dish and you would love to bring it to her whenever you get the chance.

You sat down next to her bed as she sat cross legged, ready to eat. “Open up!” You told Jiwoo as you held a piece of beef with the chopsticks, you feed Jiwoo, as soon as she takes that first bite, she squeals for joy. “MMmmmm, it’s so good! ~” You smiled as you enjoyed watching Jiwoo be happy, she was always happy, never lost her smile no matter what.

~~~~~

“I took some pictures today at the park, do you want to see them?” You pull out some photos and handed over to Jiwoo who was excited to see what you took pictures of. Jiwoo felt the photos and was staring at them for quite some time. “Did you really see a tree this big?! They can grow that huge?!” You smile and replied to each every one of her questions.

“Wow oppa, you must have so much fun taking such pretty photos!” Jiwoo sounds jealous but she doesn’t express it so much knowing that you’ll always being photos home to her. “Which one do you want me to hang up Jiwoo?” You ask as you take a clip off the wired lights that circle around her bedroom.

It’s all photos, photos that you took of her, photos of historic landmarks, photos both of you together. All hung up in her room, clipped on fairy light wires that’s lined along the walls of her bedroom.

“Hmm put it up next to the beach photos.” Jiwoo points over to the beach photo section which you happily did for her. “Have you read anything new?” Asking Jiwoo as you clip the photo to the wire, displaying it like all the other photos you took for her.

“I’ve been reading the Harry Potter books, it’s been intriguing and it’s a long book for me to read.” Jiwoo smiles as she feels the book next to her in bed. You sit back down in the chair next to Jiwoo and you look out the window, seeing that the sky is a clear blue, clouds are white and fluffed, the sun is shining through the curtains onto Jiwoo like she’s an angel.

“How was the weather today?”

Jiwoo was staring straight through the window, into the sunlight. You smile and held her hand as you look out the window like as if she can as well. “Jiwoo honey, the sky is clear, the birds are flying around, clouds are floating.” Jiwoo then lays her other hand on top of your hand that’s already holding onto hers.

“How did it feel outside?”

“It was a little cool today, breezy. I had to wear one of my jackets today.”

“Which jacket was it?” A tear started to come down her face, you noticed it and tried to keep that smile. You wiped her tear gently off her face and kissed her cheek.

“The black one, the one you bought me two years ago for Christmas, when you called my old one too ugly to use?” You tried to remind Jiwoo of the old times, the fun times.

“I remember, that brown worn down jacket.” Jiwoo smiles and looks down, in the general direction of where both of your hands are interlocked.

“Hey, that jacket was that bad.” You tried to keep the mood light, you surely aren’t ready for tears if there to be more than that one.

“Darling, that jacket had patches over the elbows, it was worn down.”  Jiwoo starts to giggle, thinking about all the times she had to sew patches to your jacket just so you don’t get cold. “How’s your jacket now?” You look over to your jacket showing signs of it getting worn down like your old one.

“It’s okay Jiwoo, it’s lasting.” You tried to make it sound like it’s still completely fine, you are thinking about buying a new jacket but you know you need to save as much as you can.

“That’s good darling… I hope you can keep using it for a long time.” Jiwoo brings her hand up looking for your shoulder, you knew what she wanted.

You open up the blanket so you can sit in next to her so she rest her head on your shoulder. “Are you okay?” Jiwoo nods as she’s leaning onto you.

“Thank for always telling me how the outside looks like… I miss seeing the sky, I miss seeing you.”

“We’ll save up enough for that operation Jiwoo, We can see the sky together again.”

“I can’t wait to see you with my own eyes again.”

[lifeaftermeteor]

The Fandom Binder

For those of you among the 'fandom olds,’ you may recall a time where we actually printed copies of art and fic we enjoyed - many of us being unable to create websites or save too many files to our computers at the time...long before the likes of Google Drive and AO3.  This was back when fandom was nurtured by individually maintained series, ship, and/or character shrines connected by webrings like Anime Turnpike.  

Some of us printed these fandom treasures and organized them in binders, now presumed lost to time and the trash heap years ago.

Well...rummaging around in my parents’ storage space, guess what I found.  My fandom binder!

Apparently I had a thing for collages - I actually covered my half of my freshman dorm room in a much larger version of the above. 

So come with me as we wade through my teenage fandom days...

The inside cover is a treat, with a quote meant to be terrifying and empowering (?) alongside a snarky comic about Gackt’s dick.

The first folder included only a TIME article on phobias, a few damning pages of notes from my high school calculus class on which I scribbled all my pent-up teenage angst and anger, and a printed out email flame (no joke) to someone who apparently my friends and I were having it out with.  

We’ll skip those and jump into the actual fandom content.

First out of the gate is Digimon Adventure, which had grabbed me in 1999-2000 via the Fox Kids channel programming.  We have here some print-outs of MST3K-ified (or “MSTied”) Digimon fic, most of which involved the Digi Destined serving in the roles of Mike/Joel and the bots.  Such fics were initially permitted on Fanfiction.Net before they were purged alongside other content guideline updates between 2000-2005, since they were both (a) reposting someone else’s work and (b) script format.  

This is followed by fanart printouts (Yamato was my clear favorite, second only to the amount of Taito I printed).  And a saved note to a friend printed in computer class that extolled the fact that Odaiba is REAL. 

I have no words. I can only assume that my little brain was just so used to stories in made up locations that the thought that the series would involve a real city just was too much for my little fangirl brain to handle.

Moving right along...

This note is followed by printouts of various fanart, predominantly of Yamato and the Taito ship.  This is in turn followed by extensive planning, character costume designs, and inspiration art printed off of Elfwood (c.2001-2002) for the fantasy AU / isekai fic, The Realms (which, yes you can still apparently find the first two chapters of via FF.net).

After that, we also have a printed, separately bound copy of my first ‘official’ (i.e., posted) multi-chapter fanfiction, An Unexpected Death, which took about 1.5 years to write and upload...and is also still on FF.net

Moving past Digimon, we land in Gundam Wing territory.  Like the previous section, we kick off with printouts of fics, art, and other fun things.

I apparently kept some notes passed between my friend and I.  As was typical of the day, fans all interacted with the characters as if inhabiting the same universe.  Emojis made regular appearances in our script-format notes (I also apparently shared half-formed plotbunnies via scripts).

We also had grand plans of co-authoring a “the GBoys are undercover at our high school” story, which was also common at the time among fellow fans.  Here is the rough idea of the school schedule: 

I also found some casting for a Matrix AU...

...and the makings of a roadtrip series of quintessential “American” locations: 

We wrap it all up with some truly phenomenal crackfic by Celes Maxwell: 

Closing out the remainder of the binder is some JRock fanservice, an autograph from Gillian Anderson (c.1998), and a random table of contents that only had empty pages or nothing behind them.  Presumably all these sections had more content, but I can say without a doubt they are GONE at this point. 

.

.

.

So yeah, that’s my fandom binder, put to good use between 1998-2004.  Show me yours!

[punchdrunkdoc]

Chapter 11

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness?

Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 3 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

——————

This is a shorter chapter than usual, but I couldn’t wait to post it - things are really picking up pace now, and it won’t be long till we get to the scene that inspired this whole fic...

——————

Chapter 11

“Lay it out for me, Anya.” Calina whispered into the burner phone. It was meant to be used only for emergencies…but this felt pretty damn urgent.

“Wait, are you calling from your apartment?” Anya asked. “Because if so, he can probably hear you.”

“No, I’m in a diner around the corner from our building, and I’m getting strange looks from the regulars, so please explain, and explain fast.”

“I sent you all the evidence. It’s all there.”

“It’s all there if you’re you. But I’m not you, so explain it to me like I’m an idiot.” Calina wasn’t an idiot. She could understand complex mathematical theorems and speak a dozen languages, but her intelligence was different from Anya's. Anya thought outside the box. She could see patterns in things where others saw only chaos.

And she often forgot that most people weren’t on her wave length.

“Okay. There’s this magical thing called the internet. And some people like to write things on the internet.”

“Don’t be facetious,” Calina replied.

“Fine.” She dropped the condescending tone and continued. “When you told me about your lawyer, and how he seemed to perceive things he shouldn’t be able to, I remembered a theory I’d come across in the depths of the internet from a Hell’s Kitchen blogger. He had no following to speak of, so his speculation went nowhere.”

“What speculation?”

“That Daredevil had superpowers. This blogger had seen him in action up close and said it was like he had 360 degree awareness. As if he was using senses in addition to sight to orientate himself and dodge attacks. The blogger thought it was some form of telepathy, but I had a different theory. See, when Daredevil was first on the scene he wore a black fabric mask over his eyes. So I started to think, maybe he was using senses other than sight, because he couldn’t actually see.  From there it was just a matter of plugging in some Daredevil footage into a program I designed that analysed his movements and spatial awareness, and it proved my theory - he’s blind. Then I used facial recognition software to compare him against your lawyer and - even though it only ran on the bottom half of his face - it came back with a 92% probability of a match. Simple.”

Calina shook her head, dumfounded. At both Anya’s idea of ‘simple’…and the fact that her neighbour - her kind, handsome, blind neighbour - was a super-powered vigilante.

“You’re sure?” Calina whispered.

“I’m insulted you even have to ask,” was the dry reply.

“Sorry. It’s just a little…out there.”

“More ‘out there’ than the existence of a secret cabal of mind-controlled female assassins?”

“Good point. And thank you, Anya. For figuring all this out.”

“I didn’t just do it for you,” she replied in her typical blunt fashion. “This guy’s senses must be off-the-charts powerful for him to be able to fight and leap across buildings without using his eyes. So he can probably detect things about you that you don’t realise. Which means your secret - and ours - is at risk. I suggest you find another place to live before he figures it out.”

“I-I’ll take that under advisement,” Calina replied before saying her goodbyes and hanging up.

She sat back in the booth and blew out a long breath, still stunned at the news.

Matthew was Daredevil.

Matthew was Daredevil.

She hadn’t heard of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen prior to moving to New York; but she’d become very familiar with him since. He was like a folklore hero in these parts. Graffiti art of a red-suited man with devil horns graced the facades of several buildings. His antics made the local news, and were splashed across the tabloid papers.

He had his detractors - people who thought any form of vigilantism was wrong - but most thought he was making a positive impact on this little section of New York.

And he lived next door to her.

So should she move out?

She no longer had to worry about him reporting her to the Sokovia accords - not when he was operating outside of them himself. But it didn't mean that he would be accepting of having a former spy/assassin as a neighbour. And if he found out about her sisters - who were still engaging in covert, and sometimes deadly operations - would his moral code allow him to ignore that?

Because he did have a code.

All her research indicated that Daredevil had never killed a single one of his victims.

The Widow's hands were not so clean. Even now, freed from Dreyokov's control.  

Should she move out?

Calina contemplated the prospect as she stared out of the window. The night sky was dark, but the street was a riot of colour; the puddles on the sidewalk reflected the bright blue of the diner's sign. The lights of the cars on the roads were red and white blurs as they sped passed. The traffic signals blinked in amber and green. And the revellers headed to the bars and clubs were dressed to the nines in metallics and pinks and, multi-hued garments.

This place was so...alive.

She didn't want to move.

Not anymore.

She liked her building, and the residents she was slowly getting to know.  She liked her dance classes and her coffee place, and the subway, and the parks.

And though she’d come to accept that they’d never be more than neighbours, she still liked living next to Matthew. She liked hearing the clack of his cane as he walked to his door, and his deep voice, and the way he looked in his suits. Strange as it sounded, she even liked the feeling of longing that came when she caught a glimpse of him in the hallway. Her juvenile crush on him - the first she’d ever experienced in her life - felt like a piece of her lost adolescence that she’d regained. It felt so normal.

Was she being selfish, putting her sisters at risk for a bit of joy and a sliver of normality?

She thought back over the past 6 weeks, for anything that might have give her away to Matthew's heightened senses…but there was nothing.

No incriminating conversations that he might have overheard - her only visitor had been Yelena, and they hadn’t discussed Widow’s business in earshot. There was the incident in the mail room, but she wasn’t regularly fighting people in the building.

She shook her head, grabbed her phone and scooted out of the booth. She left the diner and started the walk back to her apartment, resolved to keeping it her apartment.

She hadn’t given anything away to Matthew that would point to her being a Widow. And as long as she was careful going forward, she never would.  

———

Her harmless crush on Matthew Murdock evolved into a bit of an obsession over the next few days.

She was fascinated by his double life: crusading lawyer by day; masked vigilant by night.

She started following Daredevil’s nightly adventures through social media - there was a hashtag that the locals used whenever they spotted his red-suited form flying along the rooftops, and she tracked it religiously.

She read all the articles about his exploits and watched the hours of videos that had been uploaded to YouTube over the years - shaky camera footage from bystanders that documented his athleticism, his strength and his skills.

It started as just another strategy to distract herself. The dance classes and the library visits and the coffee breaks worked to fill her daytime. But the nights were trickier, formed of seemingly endless hours in which her mind tormented her. Sleep was held at bay by memories of her past and the things she had done. When it eventually came, she was plagued by nightmares, her psyche not allowing her the peaceful respite of unconsciousness.

Shadowing Matthew online, studying his past, and following him in the present, helped fill the worst of those hours - the stretch between midnight and 3 am, when she was so tired she could barely move, but rest was an impossibility.

And the more she learned…the more impressed she was by her fearless neighbour.

She was particularly enamoured of his fighting style. It was an unusual mix of traditional boxing with martial arts, which somehow blended into a powerful but graceful technique that seemed uniquely his own. She couldn’t help but imagine sparring with him. Her own method of combat was so different from his - he opted for aggressive offence, whereas she excelled at defence. Strength wasn’t her greatest asset, so she’d been trained to escape rather than attack, which suited the nature of her missions - get in, get what was needed, and get out.

How would their two very different styles come together? Would it be an even match, their methods complimenting each other? Or would there be a clear victor?

It saddened her that she would never find out.

But while she gained respect for his skills...she started to worry about his safety.  

The leaps he took across rooftops defied gravity. The punches that landed on him looked brutal and punishing. He went after armed, ruthless criminals with nothing but a bit of armour and some sticks.

It didn't feel...sustainable. He was only human, after all. An incredibly gifted human, but flesh and blood and mortal just the same. And he’d been at this for years already. Almost every night, for years. It felt like he was tempting fate every time he stepped out onto their roof.

The urge to leave her apartment and follow him in person became a constant temptation. Not because she thought he needed back up. But just to see for herself that he was being as safe as possible. The twitter posts and the blogs and the footage weren’t enough. She needed to watch him in action. It was an urge that she couldn’t full explain, and one that she couldn’t ignore for long - it became an itch under her skin. A compulsion that had her pacing the small confines of her apartment at night as he risked his life somewhere out beyond her window.

Until one night…she gave in.

She pried up the floorboards in her bedroom and retrieved the bag containing her Widow suit. She’d stashed it there the day she’d moved in - buried it, more like, as if a body in a tomb. But just like Poe’s Tell-tale heart, her buried secret was not a silent corpse to be forgotten. It tugged at her, a constant reminder.

Maybe it wasn’t surprising that she suffered insomnia, with a skeleton like that beneath her bed.  

She shook out the thin black fabric, a kevlar-reinforced neoprene that allowed for as much protection as possible while providing maximum flexibility. She zipped herself into the suit and adjusted the leather reinforced shoulders and knee pads. She contemplated the belt with the attached thigh holsters but left it behind in the bag - she wasn’t going out looking for a fight, so her guns wouldn’t be necessary. But she didn’t want to be completely defenceless, so she strapped on her Widow’s bites - bracelets that could deliver powerful electric shocks, both up close and from afar.

She slipped on her fingerless gloves, and braided her long hair to keep it off her face. As she grabbed her newly purchased balaclava - a black woollen mask that would keep her identity hidden from the people of New York - she caught a glimpse of herself in the full length mirror beside her wardrobe.

She froze. Then straightened up and stared at the image of her past self.

Widow 118.

The spy. The covert operative. The infiltrator.

The liar.

The thief.

The occasional assassin.

She felt an overwhelming sense of revulsion. The taste of bile rose in her throat, and she could feel her skin drain of colour.

Fighting back the sensation, she took a deep breath and turned her back on the reflection.

This was different, she told herself.

This was her choice. Not a mission she’d been compelled to undertake.

And she was different now.

She wasn’t going out to do harm. Just to observe. Just to placate her fears over a man she had grown to admire and respect. The suit was just a practicality. She was comfortable in it, knew how to move in it, knew it would protect her.

It didn’t have to mean anything more.

———

The first night, she watched him from a distance.

She found a spot on a fire escape a couple of blocks away, and lifted a small pair of binoculars to her eyes. She trained them on the access door that led from his apartment to the rooftop - their rooftop - and waited for him to emerge.

She didn’t have to wait long.

After twenty minutes, when night had fully descended on the city and the moon was high overhead…the Devil appeared.

She held her breath at her first glimpse of him in person. He seemed…bigger somehow. More imposing than the lawyer in his suits. The blood-red armour fit him like a glove, showcasing his solid thighs and the breadth of his chest and the curve of his ass. The mask was suitably intimidating, the horns and the opaque red eyes hiding the kindness and humour that she knew lurked within.

He looked amazing.

Even more so, when he took a running start and somersaulted across to the next building. He sprinted over open spaces and vaulted over air vents and slid down gables, his movements fast and confident and…almost joyous. As if he was stretching his muscles and relishing his freedom.

What must it be like to have all that speed and agility and have to conceal it all day long?

Calina was struck by the feeling that she was only just now getting to see the real Matthew. That so much of what he presented to the world - to her - was a front.

A persona.

Just like her.

When she started to lose sight of him through the binoculars, she followed him across the skyline. Always several blocks behind, but always on his tail.

She felt the same exhilaration as she leapt and somersaulted across the concrete terrain, finally getting to utilise some of her own skills after so many weeks.

That night she watched as he stopped a would-be mugger in a dimly-lit gas station forecourt; as he saved a woman from sexual assault outside a nightclub; as he foiled a major drug deal at the docks, taking down a group of thugs in a chaotic melee. He was outnumbered by five, but he seemed completely in his element as he engaged the gang, incapacitating them one by one, and sometimes two at a time. It was a brutal, fast display of power and proficiency, and she once again admired his skill.

There was a beauty in his violence, that only a fellow fighter could understand. An efficiency, and a surprising amount of mercy.

There was no punishment in his attacks. No gratuitous pain.

He fought to put his assailants down, so they would stay down. That was it. He wasn’t sadistic or cruel.

He was a hero.

A hero who didn’t need her to worry about his safety. He dodged everything the gang threw at him -  punches, kicks, knives...

And even a bullet.

One of the men who had been felled by a leg sweep fumbled at his ankle holster as he sat on the ground. Calina gasped as she watched him draw a gun and point it at Matthew’s back. She had a moment of panic - too far away to warn him; too far away to do anything - as he fired.

But Matthew just...stepped to the side. As if he'd known that the weapon was trained on him. He sent one of his escrima sticks flying back at the gunman - knocking him out with a blow to the head - then continued fighting.

All without looking.

It was incredible.

Did he hear the movement of the finger on the trigger? Did he sense the the shooter hold his breath as he lined up his target?

How the hell did he do it?

It was yet one more mystery that she'd never get an answer to.

———

She followed him the next night.

And the one after that.

Always making sure that she arrived home before he did, not knowing the extent of his abilities and how careful she had to be.

So she erred on the side of very careful.

She snuck into her bedroom via the fire escape, in case he scented her on the rooftop. She showered off the sweat and adrenaline that clung to her, in case he could detect that. Then she lay in bed and worked to calm her heart rate and breathing to simulate deep sleep in case he checked.

She was probably being paranoid.

And overly hopeful.

Even if his senses were so powerful and finely tuned that he could pick up her heartbeat from across the hall...why would he bother?

He had made it clear that they were nothing more than two people who happened to share a corridor. They weren't friends, and they would never be more than that.

But still, she felt compelled to follow him out into the night.

To satisfy herself that he was okay...but also because it was helping her sleep. Whether it was the physical exertion tiring her out, or the fact that she was able to concentrate on something other than herself and her past for a while, the result was that she was getting a solid five hours of uninterrupted sleep after sneaking home in the early hours.

It was wonderful after so many restless nights.

So she continued the routine.

Until the fourth time she followed him.

She didn't sleep well that night.

Not at all.

——–

CHAPTER 12

Taglist: @hollandorks, @yanna-banana, @stilldreaming666, @tearosearts-blog

If you’d like to be added, let me know!

[legobiwan]

A week or two ago, this post was going around. The TCW plot generator CRACK ideas were WONDERFUL and RIDICULOUS and WEIRD and for some reason I felt compelled to challenge myself to write one. 

I am almost as sorry for subjecting you guys to this as I am for subjecting myself to writing it. But a challenge is a challenge, even if it is stupidly self-imposed. 

So without further adooodoo----

“Jar Jar Binks is a baker and Eeth Koth is a scientist. They are facing an intimate encounter with a tentacle-limbed life form on Chandrila. Optional plot: They are falling in or out of love.“

———————————————————————————————————

It was a pity, really.

Eeth Koth, stone-faced scientist of Iridonia, a planet known for raising disciplined minds capable of tolerating the greatest physical suffering…

…had been reduced to this.

Oh, sure it had begun as a mere dalliance. A hidden peck outside the ‘fresher. A taste in the alley outside his lab.

Perhaps even a stolen bite in a back closet after lunch.

It hadn’t been enough, though, the casual exchange flowering into something beyond the Iridonian’s steely control.

“But yousa liked my buns before!” came the plaintive cry of the culprit, his dealer in dopamine, his co-conspirator in comfort.

Once a week had soon become once a day, and then even more, two, even three times in an afternoon. It was an obsession, an addiction, and his scientist brain chastised him for the irrationality of it all, even as he dreamed of the next time, of the future, long and hazy in its optimism.

The ballads of Alderaan were now as clear as solutions, the poetry of the Snivvians replete with meaning.

Eeth Koth had fallen in love.

With Jar Jar Binks…

…’s baking.

The Gungan himself was beyond intolerable, tripping over his own feet (and accidentally letting loose a few extra pastries which Eeth carefully pocketed), wandering into what should have been high-security areas (where he was always happy to sell his wares), and announcing his presence in the research facility’s cantina with an unmistakable bleat (oh, but how would Eeth have known he even existed, if not for those commanding, albeit warbling tones?)

Still, it was time to put an end to this. Especially as the Gungan had started to interpret Eeth’s passion for his baking as…passion for something else.

Baked goods had started to appear outside of Eeth’s lab. A tray of cream horns. A pile of breadsticks. A quick perusal of Gungan culture on the holonet proved his worst suspicions.

Binks was pursuing Koth in the Gungan tradition.

Which apparently involved a lot of chasing. Something to do with their ancestors’ flight to the sea millions of years ago.

The  day a crate of dough balls - one million of them , to be precise - had appeared in his lab, Eeeth knew something had to be done.

And so he did what every proud member of the Iridonian race would do.

He requested a transfer to investigate the biological attack on Hanna City on Chandrilla.

For a few short weeks, everything was back to normal. Eeth took readings, scraped residue from the remains of buildings, and willed himself to forget the whole baked goods debacle on Coruscant. Near the end of his third week on assignment, he traveled to the shoreline, to the edge of the Silver Sea.

Which was not looking so silver anymore.

The normally iridescent body of water had turned pale and dull, undulating in wide, grotesque waves. Curiosity won out over self-preservation, and Eeth inched forward, poking a gloved finger into the mass.

He was not prepared for it to reach up with long, sinewy limbs and…

And…

His cheek was wet, a trail of slime running from his eye to the base of his neck.

The sea, whatever strange being it had transformed into - had caressed his cheek.

It was incredible.

And dangerous, he reminded himself sternly.

But like all scientists, Eeth housed the embers of childlike wonder at something new inside of him, and this was an extraordinary display of evolution. To encounter a creature that evidenced this level of sentience warranted much further investigation and he should get a team and -

“Aaaaa!”

A starchy limb encircled his leg, worming its way up his inner thigh and past his belt buckle and suddenly Eeth was not feeling so enthusiastic about scientific research, batting away the offending arm. But just as he did, another on his left tried again, and a third trying to…

“Damn this thing and its lascivious advances!” he yells, and that’s when he hears it. All the fight goes out of him and Eeth just groans and takes one hand to his forehead, only to wrench it back to his waist as the sentient pastry makes another pass at him.

“Yoo-hoo! Mista Koooth!” a voice sings, its source wading towards him through the sticky, glutinous mass.

“Jar Jar! What are you doing here! This a restricted area, there’s been a biological attack and - “

“Mista Koooooth! I knooooow!”

Eeth stilled.

“What? Jar Jar you didn’t - “

He wouldn’t.  Right? Eeth’s heart trilled. There was infatuation, and then there was biological warfare via baked goods for unrequited lust and not even the displaced Gungan would go so far -

“Mista Koth!” Jar Jar waved a finger as another tentacle rose from the mass of dough wrapped itself around Eeth’s waist.

“Jar Jar - get back you damned thing!” The tentacles were multiplying, encircling the scientist in a warm embrace. Eeth pulled and pushed, but there was no give and he was stuck with a salacious biscuit while Jar Jar stood beaming at him and so help him if he got free -

“JAR JAR WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?”

“A Giant Amorphous Bantha Breakfast Biscuit!”

“What?”

“Mista Koth, yousa don’t knows the Giant Amorphous Bantha Breakfast Biscuit? It was on the holo shows.”

Oh no. He did know what they were, they had showed up in several research journals. The amazing self-perpetuating breakfast food that devoured its chef. A feat of biology. And now it was here on Chandrila, and Eeth Koth, respected scientist, master of his craft - he was going to be eaten by a sentient, tentacled, horny kriffing pastry.

Something warm grabbed at his chest. Eeth yelped, heat racing to his cheeks.

“Jar Jar! Tell me you have the sauce.”

The only thing capable of halting the growth of the Giant Amorphous Bantha Breakfast Biscuit was blue sauce, which, was the only condiment served with the Giant Amorphous Bantha Breakfast Biscuit.

It was also probably the only mandatory condiment in the entire galaxy.

The Gungan fished through his pockets, loose change, a few spoons, and even a jar of insects falling into the swelling mass. Eeth shut his eyes, imagining what his colleagues might say at his funeral, or worse, what awful headlines the holonet reporters would come up with.

Dead by Dough.

Pulverized by a Pastry.

Lascivious Lattice Leaves Lab Scientist Leavened.

“Here we are!”

With a sweeping motion, the Gungan spilled the sauce on surface, blue creeping into the pores of the dough. The mass came to a halt, emitting a loud hiss as the entire thing deflated, sinking into the water without further incident.

Eeth stood and brushed himself off - powder and crumbs fell from the folds of his clothing and he can feel the granules of dough in his shoes, down his shirt, and his pants. It is like sand - rough, coarse and getting everywhere.

He coughed to cover his embarrassment.

“What yousa think of that, Mista Koth?”

Eeth fixed the Gungan with a glare.

“Jar Jar. No more pastries.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Not evens a bun?”

“Not even a bun.”

“But yousa liked my buns before!”

Eeth sighed and trudged towards the shore, leaving a bewildered Jar Jar in his wake.

——-

Back at the compound, Eeth locked the door to his quarters. The smell of dough and yeast had followed him for weeks, and not even the strongest cologne could rid the offending odor from his senses. After the incident, he quickly wrapped up his investigation on Chandrila, returning to Coruscant with a tersely-worded report and a number of strong words for his more inquisitive colleagues.

He glanced behind his shoulder, making certain that he was alone. Eeth entered a code on a nearby panel, and a door clicked open. He reached into the secret closet, napkin around his hand.

A satisfying crunch echoed in the chamber and the scientist moaned in pleasure.

One of the advantages of being a senior researcher was the ability to sneak field samples back from investigation sites.

Even if they were tentacled Gungan desserts.  

[honeymoonjin]

Pairing: Taehyung x reader, Jungkook x Taehyung

Genre: Romance, a splash of angst

Summary: Raised on a faraway island with no trace of modern life, Kim Taehyung must be the most isolated man on the planet. And perhaps you’re the most naive person for choosing to leave the world behind and join him.

Word count: 30.8k

AN: the location where this fic takes place is fictional, as well as any historical facts presented. Mentions of violence on a large scale, not done by or involving the main characters. The title comes from the phrase which means “a clean slate” or the lack of preconceived ideas. I originally heard it from a Bjork song by the same name which talks about wanting to give her child and children in general a clean slate from the “fuck-ups of the fathers”. You’ll see that both these themes play pretty heavily in this fic.

You swallow down the knot in your throat as the bespectacled man in front of you reads leisurely through your resume, one hand mulling at his chin.

“You’re currently unemployed?”

You start at the sudden question, but dip your head in a hasty nod. “That’s right, sir.” Your eyes roam over him as he makes no indication of acknowledgement bar a single deep breath, flipping over the single page. You knew your stats weren’t particularly impressive; you’d been shocked when the agency had even responded to your application in the first place, desperate enough to apply but without any real hope of employment. Now, with your apartment lease coming up and no money to extend it, you were terrified that you might mess it up.

“As you know, the job listing asked for candidates with a versatile skill set,” the man begins, focusing a sharp gaze on you.

You shift. “Well, uh, I’m very proficient in Microsoft Office 365, I’ve had a lot of customer service experience and also-”

With a twitch of his brow, the grey-haired man swiftly cuts you off. “I had one of my men attend your most recent performance at the Blue Velvet Lounge,” he states, leaning back in his leather chair to appraise your reaction.

It takes you a moment to even decipher him, as simple as his sentence was. In all the years you’d helped out at your friend’s club, you never considered playing the piano in the background as performing, though that wasn’t the part your mind was snagged on. “I- That wasn’t in my resume, sir.”

“Neither was your home address or lack of familial relations, but home security tends to find these things out.” Your eyes dart to the door of the office, still shut but not locked, and the interviewer lets out a hollow laugh. “I’m not saying this to threaten or intimidate you, Miss. But this job is very high clearance and we take our application process very seriously. Tell me; how long have you played the piano?”

“Since I was seven.” You try to take a deep breath in to steady your racing heart and your unanchored thoughts, but your lungs won’t seem to fill. “Why does the national security program need a pianist? I’m not even that good, I’ve never won any competitions or played in any proper orchestras-”

“Having any kind of renowned or famous individual in this role wouldn’t serve our purposes,” he answers shortly, avoiding the half of the question you were more curious to know. Instead, he reaches into a briefcase at his feet and pulls out several sheets of paper, stapled together. Laying it on the table and pushing it towards you, you recognise the title. “An NDA,” he explains, “like I said, this job is very high clearance. No unauthorised information can be taken in or let out. Even if you don’t accept the job, I cannot tell you more without this contract signed.”

Once he falls silent, you stare at him for a few moments, but he simply gestures wordlessly to the printed pages, until you pick them up and begin to read through. For the most part, it follows the regular beats of a non-disclosure agreement, but with a few mysterious additions. If you turned down the job, you’d be kept on surveillance for the rest of your life to ensure you didn’t expose details of the position. If you accepted it, the same would happen once you returned home upon completion of your contract.

“This is ridiculous,” you murmur, frowning at the document in front of you. “I’d be signing my entire right of privacy away.”

The man across from you is emotionless. “That’s why most people don’t sign.”

You narrow your eyes. “This isn’t seeming remotely worth it. Besides, the ad never stated the pay, only that it was above living wage.”

He nods once, hands interlaced on the table. “Our rate is twice the living wage.”

“That’s not even that much for what, a year’s contract? And then I’m back under Big Brother.”

“For the rest of your life-” he specifies. “Our rate is twice the living wage for the rest of your life. Of course, you’d be well within your right to still get another job should you continue to wish to work after that time. As a courtesy, we’d waive secondary income taxes.”

Goosebumps run down your body like a cold wave, and you attempt again to take in a deep breath. “So- you- this-” You clear your throat, eyes unable to leave the dotted line on the final page, awaiting your signature. “What’s the catch? Will I be in danger?”

“Not at all,” your potential employer responds. “Most people simply aren’t willing to comply with our requirements for privacy, so they don’t believe the reward is worth the risk. I’ll leave that choice up to you.” He reaches into the pocket of his pale blue button-down, retrieving a pen which he rests on the table beside your hand.

Almost instinctively, your fingers flex towards it, before pausing. “How– how long has it been since you’ve hired someone? This isn’t the first time I’ve seen your ad, it’s just the first time I’ve been desperate enough to apply.”

A muscle in his jaw pops as he fights a frown. “He’s been alone for three and a half years.” His mouth audibly claps shut after he’s finished, bushy brows furrowing together as if he’s said too much.

He? You can’t deny your curiosity is overwhelming. The job listing had indicated that you’d be working in a separate location outside the country, though it was never specified, and you knew you’d have to christen the NDA with ink before you’d find out.

It’s not curiosity that emboldens you to pick up the pen, however. The strongest emotion in your chest as you sign your future to them is empathy. He’s been alone for three and a half years.

For the first time since you’d sat down across from him, the man smiles. Age crackles the skin around his eyes as he does so, but it brightens his features and you naturally return it as he stretches his arm out to you for a handshake. “Jung Minhyuk. A pleasure to finally be introduced.” You give him a warm smile, but your lack of reaction otherwise makes him chuckle sheepishly. “Sorry, I should be more specific. I’m the director of the Korean National Intelligence Service. Y/n, we’d be happy to have you. Come.”

He releases the firm handshake with a quick bow and gestures towards the door of his office, leading you out. As you make your way through a narrow hallway, ducking around harried office workers with handfuls of photocopying or phones tucked between their ear and shoulder, you can’t help but feel a little confused.

Director Jung, surprisingly personable for his high ranking, notices the way you frown at the nondescript facility, and feints back to walk at your side, leaning in with a low, conspiratory voice. “This isn’t our headquarters, of course, we’re not even in the right country! Every now and again, we move offices to a new city if we find no luck in the current one. To be honest, I really shouldn’t even be here, but I just feel more comfortable handling recruitment for this myself. You’ll understand, I’m sure. Here; this way.”

Though you certainly don’t understand, and are beginning to feel a little overwhelmed, the director’s complete change of personality is actually rather reassuring, like he’s genuinely appreciative of your willingness to sign. You follow him into a meeting room down the end of the office floor, where a much younger man awaits, fiddling with an overhead projector and a battered-looking laptop. He looks up when the door shuts behind the two of you, and beams. Immediately, you can see a striking resemblance between the two of them in the slope of their nose and their bright smiles. Though the director’s hair is grey with age, the young man has rich brown locks, cropped short on the sides but hanging over his brow a little.

“Y/n, I’d like you to meet your liaison for this job, and my son, Jung Hoseok.”

You reach out for a handshake, which he grabs with both hands and shakes enthusiastically, greeting you before indicating you could take a seat. His father doesn’t sit, instead bidding the two of you farewell, leaving Hoseok to lock the door and join you at the table.

“What a day, huh!” He laughs, eyes crinkling into crescent moons. “We were certain this would be a bust. It’s been so long since anyone has even taken this offer up. I don’t blame them, of course, but boy are they missing out!”

You let out a surprised laugh at the bold energy the director’s son has, before he clears his throat and pulls up the first slide onto a screen at the front of the room. It’s simply a long code of letters and numbers, presumably pertaining to the job you’d be filling, and Hoseok stands up, brushing his blazer lapel and taking a decisive huff of air.

“Okay, please excuse any technical difficulties that may arise, it’s been a very long time since this laptop has been taken out. We don’t even bother, usually, since everyone says no, but you were our most promising candidate in a while.”

You tip your head to the side. “Why is that? I thought I was pretty underqualified for a government job.”

Hoseok pauses, biting onto his lip. “Uh… No offence to you, but the people that apply are usually already in a well-paying government job, and their stability makes them more risk averse. Dad thought that your money struggles and low qualifications would make you more likely to take a chance on us. Sorry.”

Blinking, you try to let the stab of indignation go, focusing on the presentation slide. “Right. That’s... okay. I am looking forward to getting some answers, though.”

“Oh! Yes, of course!” Hoseok hurriedly flicks through a couple of official-looking slides bunched with legal text and classified stamps until he stops on a grainy photo of a rather large, official-looking building with Korean signage, one corner of the building orange with flame, and billowing grey smoke pouring out of the windows everywhere else. Hoseok sobers up, frowning at the picture. “How well do you know your history?” he asks softly.

“Not well,” you admit, your voice going quiet to instinctively match his.

“April 12th, 1996. The President of South Korea at the time, Im Do-kwon, gets re-elected for another term. His competitor, Kim Sanghoon, claims the vote is fraudulent and hires three men to go into the Blue House where the President is residing and set fire to it. This was all meant to be concealed, of course, but his involvement is revealed, as well as the fact that the three men were gang affiliated. News stations begin digging over those long hours that it takes to extinguish the fire, and as more and more evidence of Kim’s alignment with that gang is revealed, he goes into a rage.”

Your heart falls into your stomach as Hoseok solemnly moves to the following side, a snapshot from a news outside, as a Korean reporter stands outside an elementary school covered in yellow police tape. “Oh my god,” you whisper without thinking, veins cold with dread.

“Instead of hiring more gang members - who by now are laying low and trying to avoid all interactions with the man - Kim takes his pyromaniac tendencies to the elementary school where the President’s children are. The school had been put on lockdown. All the children were still inside. Less than thirty survived the blaze, mostly teachers.”

It takes a steady breath and biting down hard on your tongue to prevent the urge to be sick, and your heart breaks when you see Hoseok dabbing at his eyes, sniffling slightly.

“Anyway,” he says in a hollow voice, quickly clicking away from the slide, where a family photo appears of a mother and father, the former cradling a swaddled newborn. “Kim was shot on sight by police once he aimed a firearm at the squad cars arriving, but he left behind a wife and infant son. A mid-ranking member in the NIS went to their home address to see the news playing on their television, and the wife dead in front of it. She’d suffered a fatal heart attack. The infant was still in his crib.”

Hoseok sinks into his chair again, eyes glazing over slightly as he recalls the story. “That NIS officer was my father. He’d been working up for the Director role for years at that point. Was close to the current one, too. The regular protocol would be to put the son up for adoption, or even into witness protection with a willing caregiver, but dad didn’t want to take that risk. If the son ever found out, or if anyone found out where the son was, his life would either be ruined or he’d be killed in some form of revenge. The president was very well-loved, you see. The fire hadn’t killed him, but the smoke in his lungs was severe enough that he never recovered, and didn’t even survive until the following election.”

“What happened to him?” you ask hoarsely. “I still don’t understand why you’re telling me this.”

“That son is in his late 20s now. We’re hiring you, Y/n, to teach him how to play the piano.”

You shake your head, disbelief resounding in your head. “I- what is going on? Where is he, how is he…”

“Still alive?” Hoseok reaches forward to change slides again. This one is an aerial shot of an island, lush with vegetation, from the single peak in the centre to the beaches that ring it. To the bottom of the island is what looks like a fairly large building, though you can’t make out much detail from the distance. “I-134340. Its original intention was to be an emergency location for any high ranking members of the Korean government if needed, but it was replaced with a more secure base in the early 90s. My father and the old director decided that the best way to give the son a full life was to remove him from the society that would be a danger to him. To keep him unaware of the crimes of his father. A small team of operatives that had experience in child rearing raised him until he was old enough to fend for himself, and since then we’ve been sending in people such as yourself with a skill to keep him occupied and, hopefully, creatively fulfilled.”

Your mouth falls open. Part of you feels like you’re in some absurd prank show, or a social experiment, but it’s so hard for you to believe that on that island, a man is all alone, entirely removed from the rest of the world. “So he just has to live his life out there forever? Wouldn’t he want to leave? Be a part of society?”

Hoseok knits his eyebrows together, more somber than ever. “He- He doesn’t know modern society even exists.”

“What?”

“There’s no cell service, of course, no internet connection. But the base was originally built without any computers or even electricity to prevent any form of hacking. For our purposes, it’s safer that he has no grasp of current technology.”

You’re beginning to realise why the NDA was so oppressive. “That’s- that’s inhumane, keeping him in the dark ages like that!”

Hoseok’s brows furrow in sympathy. “It’s the best chance at a life we can give him. Ignorance is bliss. We send shipments of resources every two months. He has pets there to keep him company, he’s been taught several languages, including English and his native tongue, we’ve given him several books written before the modern age. He has access to a whole orchestra worth of instruments, we even allowed a record player for music. It’s not ideal, but…”

Hoseok grimaces suddenly, eying the locked door before leaning in closer to you. “It was intended to be temporary,” he admits in a low tone. “Just enough until there was some other disaster, or the world moved on. But South Korea is a relatively peaceful country, and the old director and my father underestimated just how hated Kim was. We haven’t even managed to hire a single person from South Korea to keep the son company. We don’t think they’re ever going to forget. So we have to stick with it, and give him the best life we can.”

“So you want me to go babysit a man who thinks it’s the 1800s or something? Teach him Mary Had a Little Lamb on the piano but act like I’ve never seen a light bulb before. Is that it?”

He sighs, sinking backwards into the desk chair. “My empathy keeps me working here, Y/n. I feel bad for the guy. He’s only a few years younger than me, and he’s living in his own fucked up version of the Truman Show. So I do what I can to make sure he’s happy there. Was it just financial need that made you sign that document, Y/n? Or are you willing to follow through to give him the right of human connection?”

“Do you have a photo of him?” you ask weakly, already half-knowing your answer. Already beginning to accept that you can’t just walk away. All you need is something real to keep you holding on.

Hoseok clears his throat and nods quickly, scrolling through a few slides of text that you don’t have time to read, before he stops on a black-and-white photo, slightly fuzzy at the edges. “Nothing digital, of course. This is from about six years ago, when we hired a German amateur photographer to bring this boxy old camera on stilts and teach him how to use it. Quite the looker, isn’t he?”

That he is, with raven-black curls, a sculpted face, and graceful poise, chin tipped up almost defiantly at the camera. But it’s not his good looks but rather the depths of his eyes that capture you. It’s a little hard to see with the low quality of the imagine, but his gaze is dim with sorrow. Your heart clenches. “When do I leave?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Hoseok simply smiles for the first time in a few minutes, gratitude plain on his face. “Let’s get you ready.”

In the end, it takes several weeks before you’re allowed to board the ship that will take you to the island.

First, there’s the issue of basic survival. Kim Taehyung, the son raised in isolation, is used to living without electricity, without internet or microwaves or televisions. You, however, spend your first week on the job reading a hefty book on all the items you’ll have access to and how to live off them: cooking, washing, entertaining yourself - you’d need to learn to live without modernity.

Next, you spent a day being measured for new clothes. Taehyung wasn’t exactly dressing like a Victorian aristocrat, Hoseok quipped, but jeans certainly weren’t going to cut it. A lone seamstress specialising in historical garments was hired to fit you some dresses, tops, skirts, all the way down to a few nightgowns and underwear. All simple things for your benefit, blessedly with no corsets in sight, but once they were done you still had to spend some time getting used to dressing and undressing, and lifting your skirts when you walked. The little things, you were informed, were just as important in maintaining the fiction Kim Taehyung was living in.

Finally, you were tested on your proficiency in basic history and general knowledge, things that might come up. The last person to visit the island - a violinist - informed the NIS director that Taehyung was an avid reader, often requesting new novels when his shipments came, and that he would spend hours alone in his room, listening to his old record player late into the night. Like cramming for a test, you read the Sparknotes of Jules Verne, Shakespeare, Dickens; you spammed your Spotify with the likes of Mozart, Chopin, Vivaldi. You even spent one night googling popular painters from the 1800s.

As it happened, Taehyung hadn’t been given access to anything made later than 1879, and - where possible - any identification of the date of production had been removed. You’d been warned, about a quarter of the way into your information packet, not to mention any specific dates or times, and to not bring up politics or history whatsoever.

Shipments to the island came every two months. One would bring you on it, then you’d have two throughout your stay, and finally the fourth would bring you home. That meant if you wanted to communicate to Hoseok or anyone else while on the island, you’d have to write a letter (away from Taehyung’s eyes) and slip it to the ship’s captain when he came. If there was an emergency between times, nobody would help them, so you were highly discouraged from taking part in any risky activities.

By the time you’re shivering in the brisk winter breeze, stepping onto a docked ship, it’s been just under a month since you accepted the offer, and it still doesn’t feel real.

Pausing to tug his heavy coat around himself tighter, Hoseok - with his feet firmly planted on the dock - reaches out to pull you into a tight hug. You shift within his grip with the slight rocking of the ship, having to hunch over to match his level.

He’d been with you in every step of your training, and you had found it impossible not to become extremely endeared with him. You mumble a thanks into the lapel of his coat and he hums in acknowledgement.

“I wish we had more time to ease you into this,” he confesses, his breath hot on your neck. “But I know you’ll be just fine.” Hoseok squeezes you even tighter for just a moment before pulling away, giving you a sad smile. “Please be safe. I’ll be thinking of you.”

“Likewise,” you admit, a curl of sadness sinking in your stomach at the thought of being separated from your newfound friend so soon after growing close to him. “I’ll be alright. I’ll look after him.”

Hoseok lets out a light laugh, resting his hand on the edge of the ship like he’s not quite ready to part with it. “I’m sure you will. Besides, if you need me, or need anything, just write a letter and give it to Seokjin. He’ll pass it on.”

You cock your head in confusion. “Seokjin?”

The voice that responds comes from behind you as Hoseok’s eyes lift above your shoulder. “At your service, Miss.”

You whirl around just as the newcomer presses himself beside you, your chests almost touching. He’s dashingly handsome, the type of good looks you’d expect to see on the screen or stage, but his overalls are so worn the buckles have rusted, his rubber boots are scuffed, and his hands as they reach past you are roughened with callouses.

As you suck in a breath and press yourself further onto the side of the entrance, he quirks both his brows at you with a cheeky smile. “‘pologies for reaching past you,” he drawls, beginning to undo the snag of rope coiled around a post on the dock. “We’re just about ready to set sail, little lady, so I’d suggest you find yerself somewhere comfortable to sit. Best spot is down that ladder there. I’m Jin, by the way. The Captain of this here vessel.”

You feel distinctly like you’ve stepped into another time with the way he acts and speaks, and your linen dress, high-necked and heavy-skirted, certainly doesn’t help.

It’s only the noise of Hoseok scoffing fondly and reaching forward to clap the captain on the shoulder that breaks you out of your momentary daze. In a sleek designer coat and modern undercut, he’s the dash of the real world that you need. “Come on now,” he chuffs, “you can drop the Ye Olde English. Let the poor girl adjust.”

Jin’s face lights up with a mischievous grin, all too proud at himself, but drops it with a sigh. When he speaks again, his voice is clear and airy like daylight, and you find it suits him far better. “Alright, sweetheart. Get out of the cold; I’ll get us on the way.”

You and Hoseok share one final farewell, before you hoist up your skirts in one hand and make your way to the aforementioned ladder. It’s one of two entrances on the ship’s deck; the first is a trapdoor swung open near the front, revealing what looks like crates and barrels stacked high, no doubt bringing necessary supplies to the island. The other, near the back, is a narrow opening with a wooden ladder disappearing down. It’s an effort to maneuver down the rungs with one hand free, unable to see your feet past the layers of fabric, but you manage, turning around to see the small cabin you’ve landed in.

It’s simple and cosy, retaining warmth far better than the deck, and you waste no time in finding a place to sit. There are two small couches on opposite sides of the room, with a short, bolted down table between them. One is clearly Jin’s, covered with piled up blankets, a ragged teddy bear and some strewn clothes. You chose to sit on the other couch, slipping off your brown leather shoes after a moment to tuck your feet up, sighing at the comfort it brings you.

Like you already have countless times today, you begin to grow overwhelmed at what lies ahead, at what you’ve agreed to do. Your few suitcases you’d been allowed to bring were in the hull already with the rest of the supplies, and you’d had to leave your cellphone with Hoseok in the car before you boarded. More so than anything else, it’s the lack of a phone in your hands or near you that draws up your anxiety, and you have to force deep breaths into your lungs to stay calm.

The ship begins to shift, and you turn your head to watch the single round window that lights the room as the coast slips out of view, replaced by an endless blue horizon. Thankfully the rhythmic rocking of the ship, as well as the acceptance of that open ocean, soothes you for the first hour or so.

By the time Jin joins you, you’re so relaxed that his loud entrance - skipping the rungs and just jumping straight down into the cabin - is enough to make you jump.

“She’s looking smooth out there,” he comments happily, launching himself back-first onto his couch, with his boots dangling off one end and his head propped on a pillow. “How you feeling, little lady?”

Even as he drops the cheesy accent, he keeps that nickname, and it has you smiling as you shrug. An automatic ‘good’ is on the tip of your tongue, but you pause, unable to commit to the lie. You lapse into silence trying to think of a satisfactory answer, barely able to navigate your own emotions, but Jin seems satisfied with the lack of response.

“It was like that for me too, don’t worry. It gets easier.” He lets out a fond breath, propping himself up on an elbow. “I started out just like you, going over for a short stint. He was nineteen, and he’d requested to learn fishing, since the island has some nice spots. I was hired, a poor fisherman’s poorer son. Someone talented enough but unremarkable. Mind you, I wasn’t much older than Taehyung at the time.”

Your interest is peaked, this being the first time you’d had the chance to speak to someone who’d walked the same path you were setting out on. “What was he like? Taehyung.”

“Mischief,” Jin responds without hesitation, eyes glazing over with memory. “Kept sneaking up on me to give me a fright, put too much pepper into my meals just to make me sneeze, or played music that he knew I didn’t like right into the early hours of the morning. Even grew better at fishing than me, the cheeky bugger.”

You think back to the black-and-white picture of Taehyung, with a serious face and lonely eyes. It’s hard to imagine him playing practical jokes, but Jin talks about it with so much love in his voice that you don’t doubt it for a second.

“Smart, too,” he continues, oblivious of whether you’re even still listening, “could quote Shakespeare like nobody’s business. He picked up on what I was teaching him just about faster than I could even teach it. We spent many of our evenings playing chess together, as his last instructor had brought him a set. I never won a single game.”

“He sounds like a really good person,” you say softly, not wanting to break Jin’s reverie.

He hums, eyes still distant. “I was meant to be signed onto a three month contract, get my money, and get outta there. But I found I just couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him. I extended my contract to a year, and when I ultimately had to go, I replaced the old captain and took up the shipping route. But it’s been almost a year since I’ve seen him. He just stands at his balcony when I deliver the supplies, far enough away that I can only just see his silhouette.” Jin sits up suddenly, eyes focusing in on you with a sharp stare. “I’m so glad you accepted this job, Y/n. I worry about how much time he’s been alone.”

You frown, brows furrowing. “How can you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Play along,” you explain, “keep him in the dark. He deserves a chance to live in the real world with the rest of us.”

“I suppose he does,” Jin says with a shrug, “but I don’t have the power to go against the South Korean national intelligence. The only options I had were to walk away, or to play along. I chose the latter. So did you.”

You remain silent, mulling over his words. He doesn’t state them with any judgemental inflection, but you still feel a bloom of doubt in your chest.

“I chose to play along because I felt sorry for him. I chose to play along because I couldn’t imagine how lonely he would be if nobody did.”

“That’s a nice way of looking at it,” you admit, voice barely more than a whisper. Clearing your throat, you try and lift your mood about by thinking about something else. “By the way, how long is the journey to the island? Hoseok didn’t tell me its location for privacy purposes.”

Jin laughs, throwing an arm up over the back of the couch, tipping his head to the side to rest on it. “Get comfy,” he states, “because you’re sitting on your bed for the night.”

Despite the tumultuous thoughts in your mind, the ocean outside is peaceful, rocking gently enough to lull you to sleep. Jin lends you a blanket, though your heavy skirts are weight enough. He doesn’t change either, accidentally waking you briefly at different points at the night from the noise of him getting up to check the ship’s bearings.

Apart from those hazy moments of consciousness, you sleep deeply, and it takes you a few moments upon waking properly to realise where you are. As your body is wracked with the urge to stretch - careful not to pop the handmade stitching in the dress - you can’t help but let out a deep yawn, fingers finding your hair to comb it down.

“Hot cocoa?”

You jump, not having heard the captain’s return to the cabin. He’s holding what looks like a thermos made entirely from lacquered wood, cupping it with his bare hands.

Taking your silence in stride, Jin sends you a sheepish smile. “Well, moreso lukewarm cocoa. But it’ll do the job. You need some more colour in your cheeks, little lady.”

You accept it gratefully, popping a cork on the top and pausing before you take a sip. “Do you want some?”

He makes a show of waving the suggestion off humbly, jumping back onto his couch with a graceful smile. “Ah, no need,” he deflects in a warm voice, “I drank my flask when it was still piping hot. Captain’s privileges.”

“I see,” you quip with a playful frown, but happily take a deep swig of the drink. It’s still just hot enough to warm your insides, and the creamy chocolate lingers on your tongue. “Oh my god, are you sure you don’t wanna stay on the island with us? This is incredible.”

He puffs up proudly, the tips of his ears turning pink with the praise. “I’ve packed some of the chocolate mix in the crate with the flour and spices. Just get in there before Taehyung does; he downs the stuff like nobody’s business.”

The reminder of your sole companion for the next six months sobers you up. You take another sip of the drink, savouring its taste. “How much longer to get there?”

Jin beams, patting his thighs before he stands up, tilting his head back the way he came. “Come up and see for yourself.”

The moment your head breaches the level of the deck, it’s like you’re entering an entirely new world. Unlike the port you left from, the air here feels alive with warmth and salt spray. You must have travelled closer to the equator, the sun tinting the world in gold, the sea a brilliant turquoise.

But it’s not just the open ocean that captures your attention. As you steady your feet on the main floor of the deck, rushing towards the front, you’re faced with a vast island, far bigger than you’d anticipated. The port that greets you is roughly U-shaped, the island curling around it and rising higher at the back, like a fortune cookie. You can’t see beyond the green peaks, and wonder if there’s more to see on the other side. For now, you happily spend the remaining time it takes Jin to pull in to dock basking in the views.

Almost more impressive than the island itself is the building on top of it. Though it doesn’t look too wieldy from your vantage point, it seems to have four rows of windows on its front face. It’s closer to the coast than the low mountain range, but boasts a long gravel driveway, surrounded by overgrown gardens and orchards on either side. If you squint, you can just make out, on the third floor, an ornate white balcony in the centre of the building. There’s no silhouette there to greet you.

The reminder that there was someone living in there, that you’d be living with him for the next several months, has your heart racing. You quell your nerves with a huff of salted air and turn to Jin as he mans the wheel - carved wood with bulbous spokes, like something off a pirate’s ship - with a single hand.

He smiles at you, at the overwhelmed look on your face. “Quite something, isn’t it? Never gets old.”

“The house is… not what I was expecting,” you muse, turning around to take it in again. With sunbleached white detailing, a terracotta shingled roof, and delicate pale brickwork on the corners of the building, it looks more like an old Italian villa than anything. “I thought this was originally a secret Korean base or something.”

“Was indeed,” Jin says easily, smoothly turning the wheel to bank the ship left slightly, on track to slot beside the sizeable wharf. “If you were a drone or an army pilot flying over this you wouldn’t exactly think it was a Korean base at all, though, would you?”

“Definitely not,” you answer immediately, before letting the words sink in. “Oh.”

The laugh Jin lets out is hearty, tipping his chin back slightly. “Exactly. Besides, works well for its current use too. It would be a little more hard to mask all technology if it was a high-tech military base.”

You hum in acknowledgement, bracing yourself as the right side of the hull bumps gently against the wharf and settles in. Jin abandons the wheel in favour of tethering the vessel, and you feel your nerves rise again, so suddenly and totally that your knees wobble beneath you.

It’s easy enough to keep your hands occupied, though. First you grab your own luggage from down below, depositing it on the wharf. Jin insists that you can start exploring, but a part of you isn’t ready just yet, so instead you bargain with him to help unload the supplies.

For the next half an hour or so, your job is to drag the crates and barrels to the entrance, helping Jin lift them out and carry them off the ship. It’s slow going, but you know he’s given you the easy job. From the increasingly disappointed look on his face, there’s still no sign of Taehyung.

It’s not until the storage cabin in the ship is hollow again, and the two of you step onto solid land, that you turn to him in worry. “Do you think something bad happened?”

Jin waves it off, but he can’t deflect the genuine concern in his eyes. “Ah, I bet he saw me and figured there was nothing new. Normally I’ll leave the supplies here and set sail back home again; gives him some exercise, lugging them up to the house, and god knows I don’t need it. But just in case, let me give you a hand, yeah? We can do the necessities first.”

You pick out your luggage and Jin selects a crate of eggs and long-life milk to go under one arm, some salted meat under the other, and rolls a barrel in front of him, one kick at a time. It’s a long way up to the double doors of the massive house, and the only sounds around you are the crunch of gravel, your pants of exertion, and the seabirds calling out, swooping high above you.

At one point you swear you see a person standing at the balcony, but a second glance, and he’s already gone, though a tall white curtain billows gently in the breeze.

You frown, tipping your head to the side as you force your feet to keep making headway. Was the window open before?

You dismiss it, striking up small talk with Jin about what he’d do upon returning to the mainland, but you’re a third of the way from the sprawling house when a hoot and a bang make you jump.

Directly in front of you, the double doors of the house have been slammed wide open, and a slender, dark-haired figure takes bounding leaps, running towards you with his arms in the air.

“Oh my god,” you murmur instinctively, not prepared for this kind of reception, but Jin just laughs heartily, voice rich with relief.

“That’s what I thought!” Jin shouts to the quickly approaching man. “Get your ass over here!”

Taehyung is clad in what looks like a satin robe over matching pyjamas, catching the breeze behind him like a cape. He’s barefoot, and you wince at the unflinching way he sprints, bare feet crunching on the gravel. You can vaguely recognise his face from that blurry photograph you saw back home, but he looks so different now, not just with longer, naturally curly hair, but with the broad grin and lively eyes that run over the two of you as he closes the gap between you.

When he finally arrives, he just about tackles Jin with the force of his hug, forcing the man to awkwardly drop the cases under his arms. Even past your bewilderment at the sudden warm welcome, you don’t miss the way Jin’s eyes mist over, the way he tightens the hug and tucks his chin on the man’s shoulder.

“It’s been too long, old friend,” Taehyung murmurs, so low that you’re taken off guard by the honeyed rumble of his voice. His face is angelic, almost cherubic, yet he sounds straight out of a silky noir. But his words aren’t meant for you, instead burrowing his face deeper into Jin’s chest.

“And whose fault is that?” Jin reprimands, no acid in his voice. “I’m so glad to see you out here again, Tae. I worry, you know.”

You barely make out Taehyung’s acknowledgement, muffled by Jin’s overalls, but when he pulls away, hair poking up above his ear on one side, his eyes find yours. His lips open but no sound comes out, his eyes suddenly crinkling and cheeks heating like a shy child.

“I know, I know,” Jin lets out with a sigh, “I’m not the only pretty face you came to greet.”

Taehyung’s eyes, swimming with bridled curiosity, don’t leave yours for a second even as he addresses his friend. “You found one,” he remarks in wonder, taking a hesitant step forward. “I did wonder if they’d given up on sending me tutors.”

“Hey,” the fisherman rebuffs gently, “we wouldn’t leave you alone, Tae. We were trying to find a really good one, I promise. Go on; introduce yourself.”

This makes the younger man perk up, humming when Jin reaches out to dislodge the stray curl of Taehyung’s hair, letting it join the rest. Taehyung waits until he’s done and then bows deeply to you, eyes seeking yours out again sweetly. “My name is Taehyung,” he divulges warmly, and crooks a hand back to gesture the way he came. “This is my humble abode, where you’ll stay with me.”

Smothering a grin at Jin’s scoff, you return the favour and introduce yourself as well, dipping into a quick bow to be polite.

Taehyung’s eyes glimmer with every word, leaning forward further. “Are you a philosopher by chance?”

“I- No, I’m not,” you answer, seeing him deflate. “Sorry.”

His mouth curls in a displeased pout, turning to Jin. “I asked for a philosopher.”

“Namjoon promised to return in a few years’ time, once his children are old enough to attend their schooling. You wouldn’t want to disrupt that, would you? The two of you got along well, I thought.”

Taehyung huffs slightly, though the fight has left him. “That’s true. I keep asking him to post me some photographs, but he never does.”

Jin grimaces. “The twins can’t seem to sit still long enough for a photo to develop, I’m afraid. All his attempts come out blurry.”

“Still,” Taehyung offers up redundantly with a sigh. “Anyway!” he exclaims, turning to you with a clap. “What do you do?”

“I’m a pianist,” you offer up, the phrase still feeling like a lie. “I brought some sheet music with me, too. Liszt’s newest concerto, among others.”

Again, the lie is bitter on your tongue. Newest is over a hundred years old, but Taehyung lets out a cheer like a child on Christmas morning, and all of a sudden a warm hand is clasping yours, tugging you towards the house as he begins listing off the other Liszt pieces in his collection, and what instruments he can play them on.

As you’re pulled up the long driveway, you crane your neck back, where Jin is beginning to lug the boxes up behind you. Guilt flares up, but he catches your eye and waves you off, sending you a friendly wink.

With Taehyung’s undying enthusiasm for music narrating your trip, it’s not long before the rough textured gravel evens out into polished stone, the pavilion in front of the double doors to the sprawling estate.

You have to tilt your head back to see the roof, slicing into the blue sky, and you imagine it would be a long walk to reach either end of the building if you started from the middle. “All this for one person,” you muse breathily, taken aback by the mammoth in front of you.

Taehyung just shrugs, delicate fingers playing on the gold-plated doorknob. “I like to stretch out when I sleep.”

A surprised laugh bubbles up, and the quip is enough to break any lasting anxiety inside you, taken over by that sweet thrum of excitement. You were getting paid to live here, in this gorgeous house on this gorgeous island with a-

You flush, tugging your eyes away from the dark-haired boy in front of you. Get a grip. “I’d love a tour, but I think we should help Jin with the luggage, perhaps,” you offer up as way of self-distraction.

“Ah,” Taehyung replies shortly, “you make an excellent point. Very well, let’s assist. Only-” He clears his throat, the bronze of his cheeks turning dusty pink. “I would prefer to go put some shoes on first.”

By the time all the barrels, boxes and battered suitcases are sitting on the parquet floor of the entryway, you’re longing for the comfort of air conditioning. Jin makes his leave quietly, giving you a tight hug and Taehyung a tighter one. It feels so sudden, leaving the island far emptier, but it’s too hot to stand on the dock and wave off the receding ship.

Instead, you make do with the shade inside, letting Taehyung lead the two of you to a kitchen on the opposite side of the house, towards the back.

Like something out of a period piece film, the kitchen is rather rustic but overly large, with a wooden island in the middle wide enough to be a table of its own. Hanging on hooks in the doorway are strings of chili, garlic and onion, and Taehyung ducks around them with practiced ease. Inside, a stone oven appears to be the most modern addition. One door leads to a pantry; another is closed, perhaps the entrance to a cellar. The rest of the kitchen is simply bench space and a dining area, with only two chairs tucked into a cherrywood table.

He pulls one out for you with a slightly shy flourish, and you sit. From a cupboard Taehyung retrieves a half-eaten loaf of baked bread and a glass jar of some type of jam.

“It’s not much, I’m afraid,” he apologises, setting them before you and fetching some plates and a knife, “but I imagine you must be famished from your journey.”

As you wait awkwardly for him to cut off a thick slice of the bread for you, you’re filled with the same feeling that being on a first date would give you. You want him to like you. You want to like him. If not, it will be a very uncomfortable experience.

“Thank you.” You pull the plate closer, admiring the fluffy inside and crunchy crust. “You like to bake?”

Taehyung shrugs, his eyes only meeting yours for brief bursts. His lips are tightened slightly with nerves, but that brown gaze is teddy-soft, making you wish he’d look at you more. “I mastered it out of sheer necessity, but it has become quite the hobby. I made the strawberry jam too, from fresh strawberries on the island. Do you like strawberries?”

“I do. I guess it makes sense for you to grow and make most of your own food.”

“Of course,” he affirms, pausing to take a bite, chewing with leisure. He’d grown up without any real need to ever rush, you supposed. “All this land, it would be a waste not to make use of it. Do you also enjoy the pursuit of gardening?”

You think back to your old apartment, the one plant that draped over the windowsill lifelessly, leaves slowly shriveling up despite you watering it. “It’s not my strongest skill,” you admit with a slight cough, “but I live close enough to a market that I haven’t needed to rely on it.”

Taehyung hums, mouth full of bread. You fall silent waiting for a response. Once he finally swallows, he tilts his head to the side. “You’re extremely beautiful,” he states without question.

“Oh-” you splutter, cheeks heating and the jam on your tongue tasting even sweeter. “Thank you.”

“Perhaps they didn’t tell you. You’re the first woman I’ve seen since I was eight years old.”

Your eyes fly wide, unable to even picture what that must be like. But a glance at Taehyung gives you pause. His eyebrows are lifted, and the corner of his mouth is curling up expectantly, like he can’t wait to see your reaction. “What I’m hearing,” you declare slowly, “is that you don’t really have any context then. To call me beautiful, I mean.”

“I’ve seen paintings,” he rebuts with a small frown, “you’re more beautiful than them.”

“What paintings have you seen?” you ask, grinning in spite of the absurd turn the conversation has taken.

“Several,” he insists emphatically, “the Mona Lisa, for example. Never the originals, of course, just copies from a printing press. But still. If da Vinci had seen you, I do suppose he would’ve painted you instead.”

Words fail you as your mouth opens and closes. A strangled noise leaves it before you’re burying your face in your hands, laughing in disbelief. “You can’t just say things like that, Taehyung,” you whine from behind your palms, “that’s too… I bet you’d say that to any woman who came on the island after so long.”

Taehyung purses his lips, like he’s genuinely considering the prospect. “Perhaps,” he allows, “but I do find it unlikely. I shall have to wait until another female tutor comes to the island and see.”

You can’t help from laughing again, shaking your head. “You want to know something?”

“Always.”

“I’ve seen a lot more people than you probably have, Kim Taehyung, and you’re the most intriguing one I’ve ever met by far.”

He goes silent for a moment, not flustered like you were, instead studying your expression with a keen but gentle eye. “Will you play something for me?” he asks at length. “On the piano? It’s been so long since I’ve heard live music from another soul.”

You finish the last bite of your bread quickly, standing up with a decisive nod. “Lead the way.”

When he stands up with you, he holds out a hand. Though there are only two of you in this empty place, he still entangles his fingers with yours and guides you there carefully, pausing often to give you information about the type of tiling in the foyer, how many steps there are on the staircase, even what year he’d received each painting in the second-floor hall.

The piano is in a ballroom with high, rounded ceilings. The room is so delicate in white and gold that it takes your breath away, makes the glossy grand piano look like a black stamp in the far half of the room.

“Play for me,” he asks again softly as he perches on the corner of the narrow stool, like you may have forgotten his wish on the way upstairs. His voice, as quiet as it is, seems to linger in the air like a golden thread, winding throughout the open air. You join him, your sides pressed flush together, and the shared body heat feels intimate.

When your fingers find the keys, they disturb a layer of fine dust, revealing the ivory beneath. “It has been a long time,” you murmur to yourself, heart aching to see such a beautiful instrument go unused. “Any requests?”

Taehyung takes a brief moment to think this over, head tilting inwards towards you, curls heavy on his brow. “Play a piece that feels like falling in love,” he decides, turning his torso to you with bright eyes. “I recently finished re-reading Pride and Prejudice, you see, and I should like to hear something romantic.”

You smile softly at the sentiment, but your brain sparks as you recall having learned a piece from the soundtrack of the movie itself (thank you, high school English class), and figure that should fit the bill. You let the piece solidify in your mind for a moment, steadying your hands in position, and begin to play.

The notes are light, weightless but so gentle. You’ve only played four or five bars before you hear Taehyung sucking in a breath, and then his face is dipping into your peripheral, a dreamy smile on his face as he leans his ear closer to the piano, hunched forward. His eyes dip closed, and as the piece begins to crescendo you almost wish you were proficient at it enough to not have to look at the keys. Your eyes spare glances at the joy on his face, his dark lashes, his pink lips, taking every second they can.

You don’t know whether to curse or praise fate for sending you to an island with a man more gorgeous than any you’d seen before. Should he be here today, it wouldn’t be you da Vinci was painting.

Taehyung requests a second piece after then - “one that comforts you in moments of strife” - and a third, and a fourth, all with unique atmospheres. It doesn’t surprise you, with such a lack of socialisation that the young man has infused so much meaning and emotion into music instead. Before you know it, the sun is setting, and Taehyung has leaned in so close to the sound, eyes closed in bliss, that his forehead is almost touching your shoulder.

When you finish the last piece, he lets out a breath, going lax like he’s deflated, and opens his eyes again. “That was beautiful,” he whispers, before clearing his throat and straightening up, shaking himself out of that dreamy fog. “I am entirely delighted that you came.”

You quirk a smile, heart warming at his acceptance of you. “I’m delighted I came too.”

“You can begin your lessons tomorrow,” he instructs, stepping up with such sharpness that his robe swings out before catching at his shins again. “But for tonight… I’ll give you a quick tour, and you can get some rest. I am certain we can find something simple for dinner in the boxes Jin brought with you on the way. Shall we?”

Taehyung offers an elbow with an expectant look, so you gingerly slip your hand around, resting it in the crook. Immediately, he tucks his arm in so that your wrist is pressed snugly against him, places his other hand on top of yours, and starts off around the second floor of the house, guiding you around.

He has a running commentary for every inch of the property, it seems. The floor you're on is mostly for entertaining - the ballroom with the piano, of course, a library that takes up almost a third of the space, the shelves still in the process of filling up, and a large study that sits in the centre of the floor, facing the back of the island.

You pause in this room, gently detaching yourself from Taehyung to approach the windows. With glass panes reaching the ceiling, and a long, upholstered bench below, it looks like the perfect reading nook, but that isn't what catches your focus. You sit on the bench and stare outside as the setting sun ignites everything in swathes of orange. The central crest of the island is further back than you initially thought, and between the manor and the peak is a sprawling plain, divided into rose gardens, vegetable patches and even some paddocks with animals inside them. You see tiny bobbing dots emerging from a henhouse, a small gathering of cows, and even a strange glimpse of orange that stands apart from the sun's rays. It disappears into a grove of trees before you can catch it.

"Ah, you spotted my companions," Taehyung murmurs from behind you, his voice sending a slight shiver over your skin. You feel the crushed velvet of the bench cushion shift beneath you as Taehyung makes himself at home, one leg lifted up and his back to the wall, facing you head-on. "We can go down and meet them, if you'd like. If you're not too tired."

It is tempting. But exhaustion tugs at your eyelids and weighs your tongue. You don't feel like you have the energy to socialise much longer. "I think I might go to bed after the tour, if that's alright with you."

Something in his eyes dulls slightly, but he nods quick enough to bounce the curls on his head. "Entirely understandable. Forget the tour; let me guide you to your room and allow you to rest up."

Internally, you sigh gratefully, but give him a warm smile. "I appreciate it," you say honestly, pushing up off the reading bench and offering your elbow. "Shall we?"

He brightens up again, teeth bared in a boxy grin. In a reversal of your previous position, he tucks his arm around yours jovially, holding himself close as if the two of you are old friends. Your heart warms at the enthusiastic contact, and you make no complaint as he leads you out of the study.

"I often take my lessons in there," he chats idly as you climb another set of stairs, "but for our purposes I suppose the ballroom is best. Wouldn't you agree?"

You hum, nodding. "There's theory involved too, you know," you mention, "so we might split our time between the two. That desk in the study looks big enough for the both of us to work at."

"It certainly is." Taehyung clears his throat, and ducks his head slightly as you begin to ascend, still pinned side-by-side. "I do hope you'll enjoy it here," he mumbles quietly. "I have to apologise in advance about the state of your room. I stopped preparing one for a tutor when they stopped sending them. Were I aware of your impending arrival, it would not be so dusty."

"It's fine," you brush off, but the defence dies in your throat when you arrive on the third landing, and he twists the glass knob of the door closes to the right.

Inside is a bedroom, almost the size of your apartment back home, with a large four-poster bed, a small writing desk, a claw-footed tub concealed by a delicately embroidered paper screen, a matching mahogany wardrobe and vanity, and an armchair beside the bed. All of these items individually looked like something out of a period piece movie, seeming two hundred years old, and with the thick, almost solid layer of dust on everything, you could just about imagine they were.

Your mouth falls open before you can smother your reaction, and Taehyung himself lets out a strangled noise of surprise.

"That... I do have to apologise profusely, Y/n, I did not think of just how long it's been..." He sighs with a flourish, tipping his head back like nothing could be more distressing. "This is unacceptable. I'll have to clean this before I allow you to breathe the air in here. You'd catch a cough overnight."

You can't even rebuff that statement, seeing just how many dust particles fly into the air when he levels a kick at the foot of the bed. "I... Is there a living room downstairs I could use in the meantime? I don't mind sleeping on a couch."

Taehyung looks utterly horrified at the prospect, and without a further word, snakes his arm around your waist and is rushing you from the room, pausing only to decisively slam the door shut, and then directs you back the way you came, stopping at a door in the center of the floor. With a pat on your shoulder to keep you in place, he opens the door and waves you inside. "These will be your living quarters for the time being," he declares, jumping in to start patting down the thick duvet of the bed inside, straightening out any invisible crinkles.

The room itself has a similar setup to the previous one, only with far less dust. At one end, a set of French doors are open, showing off a marble balcony. Facing the opposite direction to the study, this looks forward onto the coast and the vast sea from whence you came. The evening air blows in thinly through the open doors, gently billowing the floor-length cream curtains.

There are some tins and glass containers on the vanity, as well as a wooden brush, and the writing desk has a inkwell, a leatherbound book as well as several worn novels resting on it. Like a sudden realisation, you think back to the sight of a figure standing on a balcony when you arrived, of the doors pushed open. This was Taehyung's room.

"Please - make yourself at home," Taehyung requests. "I can bring up your luggage for you while you take a moment to settle. I might go open a few windows in the other room to let it air out overnight, but I'm afraid it may be a few days before I can return it to a clean state. In the meantime, this should suffice."

"I can't take your room, Taehyung," you frown, fiddling with the sleeve of your dress. "That's not fair."

"You're the guest," he insists emphatically with furrowed brows. "I could not sleep in comfort knowing you were banished to a stiff couch after traveling so far for me. The bed is yours."

"Where will you sleep?" you ask, your raw exhaustion stopping you from protesting further. It draws you to the side of the bed, sitting down on the surprisingly comfortable mattress. It doesn't spring under you like the ones you're used to. Instead, it feels full and light, as if stuffed with feathers. Your spine aches and feet buzz at the feeling of rest being so close.

Taehyung smiles, shoulders dropping in relief once you sit. "I have fallen asleep while reading in the study many a time," he responds, "I shall spend my nights on the bench there for the time being."

"On the bench?" you repeat incredulously. "Taehyung-"

"I assure you, it is quite comfortable," he states.

"Then I'll sleep there," you fire back. He grimaces, but a sigh of resignation deflates him. "There's no reason either of us should have to sleep out there, Taehyung. This bed is massive."

He catches what you're hinting at immediately, lips tightening. "It would not be proper..." he defends, though you don't miss the way his eyes linger longingly on the bed you're sat on.

"Who's here to judge us? Who cares?"

Taehyung falls silent for a moment, before nodding. "Very well. Once I bring your luggage up, you may change into your night clothes. I might visit Lily before I come to bed."

The phrase 'come to bed' feels so intimate that you suppress a shiver, focusing instead on the unfamiliar name. "Lily?"

He beams immediately in fondness. "You can meet her tomorrow," he promises. "For now, sleep is the larger priority."

The word itself triggers a yawn, and you swear you hear the quietest chuckle from Taehyung as you clap a hand over your mouth. "Okay, I won't fight that," you decide, "just let me come down and help bring up my luggage. There are only a few suitcases, anyway."

By the time you undress and slip into a cotton nightgown, slipping your feet underneath the puffy duvet, your mind is already shutting down. Part of you had intended to wait for Taehyung, to thank him for his hospitality or the use of his bed or something, but instead your body rests into the cloudlike bed, tucked on one side to give Taehyung more room to stretch out, and consciousness leaves you like the flick of a switch.

You wake in the middle of the night, briefly, a wave of disorientation tugging you from sleep before you recall the past twenty four hours. Adjusting yourself, you turn around to your other side and flip the pillow, seeking the cool. Rubbing at your eyes, you crack them open briefly and are met with the sight of Kim Taehyung sleeping. Not right across from you, though. Instead, he's curled up in the armchair, neck twisted at an awkward angle, mouth open slightly.

Your heart melts at the sight, and you manage to muster the energy it takes to sit up and hop out of bed, padding around on bare feet, using a blanket folded at the foot of the bed to drape over him, and tucking a pillow between his cheek and his shoulder.

He's beautiful, achingly so, even when asleep. Even with a corner of his mouth damp with drool. The planes of his face catch the moonlight coming in through the window. It glints silver on his cheekbones and the tip of his nose. It winds in strands of his hair that hang low on his brow. The photograph could never have encapsulated these details, and it feels like a privilege to be witnessing him in real life. More than his gorgeous face, he seemed kinder than you'd expected, a curious spirit that had none of the inhibitions or judgements that society bred into you, into everyone you'd met before him. He was so entirely himself, uninfluenced, that it took your breath away.

His breath catches, and he lets out a throaty grumble before shifting slightly in the chair. Heart racing at the sudden movement, you scurry back to your side of the bed, barely taking a minute of stillness to fall asleep again.

“Good mor- Well, good afternoon!”

You groan, hands balling up clumsily to rub at your eyes, toes curling and mouth stretching in a yawn.

“Ah, there she is. Welcome back to the land of the living, darling.”

You crack a single eyelid, squinting up at the figure crouched at the bedside. Taehyung looks surprisingly well-rested for his uncomfortable choice in bedding last night, and his hair has been brushed back, revealing bright eyes and a broad set of brows, raised expectantly.

“What time is it?” you make out with rusty vocal cords. Pushing yourself upright, you yawn again and prop your back against the headboard, blinking away the dregs of sleep.

“Three in the afternoon,” he states without hesitation, eyes glinting with bemusement, “I would have left you sleeping longer, only- well, to tell you the truth I was worried you may have slipped into a coma. Your snoring sounded suspiciously like a death rattle.”

Your cheeks heat violently as you splutter out an apology, but he just laughs, the sound throaty and golden. “I’ve taken the time to unpack our supplies,” he continues on, lifting from his haunches only to sit on the bed instead, just about pinning your legs under the duvet. “I’ve put the boxes with your equipment in the study for now, as I wasn’t sure how you wanted to arrange them. But worry not; I’ve decided we don’t have to begin lessons until Monday. I shall insist on giving you weekends and evenings off, as is proper for a teacher.”

“Thank you,” you let out automatically, even as your brain overheats from the sudden info dump so early in the morning. Before either of you can open your mouths again, your stomach growls, causing you to flush deeply.

Taehyung is unruffled, simply rising to his feet with a wordless exclamation. “Of course! You must be starving. I’ll be down in the kitchen making us some… lunch? Some lunch,” he decides. “My bath is connected to the hot water system here, so please do not hesitate should you wish to wash up before you get dressed for the day. I will not disturb you, simply come downstairs at your leisure.”

With that, he turns to leave in a flurry, leaving you alone.

After sitting in the silence for a moment, still catching your bearings, you decide to take him up on the offer of a hot bath after all. The tub is not particularly wide but very tall, and the water fills up quickly, pouring in somewhat uneven bursts from the delicate silver faucets. Though it boasts some silver feet at the bottom, they appear to be decorative, as the bath itself is still attached to the ground by the pipe underneath it. It snakes from the drainhole, under the tub and out to the side of the wall, where it disappears.

It’s quite the balancing act to get the temperature right, adjusting the cold and hot water taps several times until it feels just right, dipping your fingers in to check before submerging yourself entirely.

With the shape of the tub, you have to bend your legs, but the level of the water is displaced high enough to almost reach the tops of your knees, heating your whole body from the shoulders down. It feels heavenly, and you don’t even make any motions to reach for the block of soap or the perfume on the side table, instead just shutting your eyes and letting the tensions of your journey and all the changes finally seep out of your muscles and into the water.

Your mind wanders. Staying there until the water is nothing more than lukewarm, you think of how far you’ve come, of what more might lay in the future yet. Of how strange it was to be wearing vintage clothes, or listen to Taehyung’s charming old-fashioned way of speaking. The world you left behind has never felt so far away. Were you at home, you’d probably be on your phone, mindlessly scrolling on social media or queuing up a new Netflix show. There is still a strange hole inside you at not having those comforts available to you, but it isn’t nearly as cavernous as you’d expected. Life here, at least the day of it you’ve experienced, doesn’t feel empty or lacking. But perhaps it’s the person on this island with you that makes it feel so full.

With the reminder of him, and the fact that he’s currently on the first floor making lunch, your stomach growls impatiently again, and you scramble to soap yourself down before you drain the tub. Hunger gnawing at you makes you hurry, getting dressed and brushing through your hair a bit before rushing down the stairs, a fistful of fabric keeping your skirt high enough that you won’t trip.

The smell hits you before anything else, and as you round the corner, the rich aroma of beef is matched with the sight of Taehyung leaning leisurely against the kitchen counter, lazily stirring the contents of a comically large pot on the stove.

The scuff of your shoes alerts him to your presence, and he turns around with a broad grin, directing you to sit at the dining table. The sight of him takes your breath away. Gone is the matching pyjamas-and-robe ensemble. Today, it seems, he’s dressing to the nines. A deep navy waistcoat with gold buttons keeps snug to his form, a white blouse with tight cuffs and ballooned sleeves showing off a delicate lace pattern. His pants are a warm brown, leading down to leather shoes. Instead of a tie, his neck stays bare, the top button of his blouse undone to expose the base of his throat. Even his hair is styled; it looks as if he’s wet it slightly to comb it back, but a stray lock to the left has escaped the clutches, curling at his temple.

“Excellent timing,” he chimes, unaware of - or unbothered by - the way your eyes rake over him, “the stew is just about ready to go.”

He serves the dish with a comically large ladle, pouring the stew into two stone bowls. It looks nothing short of incredible, filled with chunks of tender beef, potato, onion, carrot, even some slices of egg. You can barely hold off long enough for Taehyung to sit and pick up a spoon before you’re doing the same, diving in with a much dignity as you can muster.

It’s unbelievably good, the meat so tender you barely even chew it, the broth rich and full-bodied on your tongue. You suppose a lifetime of cooking for himself was clearly paying off, and you count your lucky stars that he’s happy and willing to make such an impressive meal for you on your first real day here.

“I want you to meet someone today,” Taehyung announces at one point, pausing to tip his bowl up and drink the last of the stew.

You frown, instinctively glancing around the room. “There’s another person living on the island?”

“Not so much.” He sets the bowl down with a dull thud and leans back in his chair, two broad hands smoothing down his vest. “There’s several livestock out back that you caught a glimpse of last night, but I do keep a pet, too. She’s outside.”

Burning with curiosity, you quickly help Taehyung rinse out the bowls and leave them upside down in the sink to dry, following behind him as he leads you to one of the back doors close to the kitchen.

“You’ll require shoes,” Taehyung states, retrieving a pair of worn sandals from a cupboard beside the door, “you can use a pair of mine for now. Just tighten the straps and they shall suffice.”

While the shoes are significantly larger than your feet, Taehyung is right. You wrap the ties as tight as they go, pinning your foot to the sole, and the two of you set out into the heat of the afternoon.

Outside, you’re in a cosy valley between the manor and the mountain ahead, so very little wind reaches you. The salt of the sea is masked by the fragrant smell of blooming flowers and pollen, not just restrained to flowerbeds but growing all over, from bushes of bright pink azaleas to tiny white petals climbing up a trellis on the back exterior wall to dandelions and daises dotted amongst the thick grass.

You walk along a central path, still grass but worn flat from treading. It leads you between mostly garden beds of vegetables and flowers, but also paddocks of farm animals; a chicken coop you’d seen the night before sticks close to the house, with a patch of sheep and three cows grazing further out towards the slope of the mountain.

“She is my dearest companion,” Taehyung explains as you make your way close to a grove of trees, unbothered by the heat even in his warm clothes, “though not all of my tutors take to her as well as I have. I should hope you can grow fond of her, Y/n.”

You smile at the earnest look on his face. “Is she a cat? I know some people don’t get along with cats that well.”

His grin widens, hands clasped behind his back. “She is indeed.” Inclining his head forward, he looks intently into the thatch of trees, scanning the shade. Suddenly, he perks up, and speeds up. “There she is!”

You strain your eyes to seek out this mysterious companion, barely noticing the wooden fence in front of you until you bump into it, Taehyung reaching out a hand to steady you and lifting a heavy metal clasp, letting the two of you in and shutting it behind you. Your smile falters a little; why would a cat need a gate?

“Lily, my dear!” Taehyung calls out jovially, heading further into the fenced-off field. The majority of it is open grass with the trees gathered further back and a small pond to the right, birds gathering around the edge to wet their beaks.

You hear the snuffling and pawing before you see her.

Brilliant orange, the tiger steps out from the shadows of the trees and pads towards the dark-haired man, meeting him halfway. Your stomach drops at the sight of the big cat, rich black and snow white stripes lining her face and body, sleek all over but long-haired around the neck and chin. Even in zoos, you’d never seen a predator this close, and to be entirely vulnerable to one had you frozen in terror.

Taehyung wasn’t the least bit stiff, falling fearlessly to his knees, arms splayed wide to bury his whole upper body into her fur. She snuffles again, a flash of teeth sending a shock through your system, but gently buffs her head against his head, all but nuzzling in.

It takes several moments for your life-or-death instincts to settle, but as you do, the murmur of Taehyung’s voice greets your ears.

His hands run over her, scratching behind her ears, patting down stray whiskers, rubbing her chin, and beams, showering her in affection. “Oh, my sweet girl, my deepest apologies for making you wait, did you miss me? Hm? Oh, I missed you too, you big baby.”

Despite sharing the same oxygen as an actual, grown tiger, you find yourself smiling at the bond between the two. With a solid thud that resonates in the ground, Lily falls onto her side and lifts a wide paw up, batting at Taehyung until he buries his splayed fingers into the fur on her tummy, giving it a hearty rub. She snuffles again, stretching out under his touch, playful and content.

He looks up after a moment, crooked smile and tousled hair, and waves you over. It takes a moment of sheer concentration and determination to will your feet to move closer, but eventually you gingerly kneel down beside him and look at the gorgeous animal in front of you.

She’s bigger than both of you put together, but leans into Taehyung’s cuddling and petting like a kitten, or a dog that doesn’t realise how big it is. You reach out slowly, hand trembling, and settle your fingers on top of her heaving chest, just beside Taehyung’s. Her fur is like rough silk, richly soft yet textured, and her skin beneath is warmed from the sun. A smile stretches across your lips as she arches off the ground slightly, licking her chops and stretching her paw up in acceptance of the contact.

Taehyung sucks in a slow breath, and you feel the weight of his head rest onto your shoulder. “She likes you,” his honeyed rumble affirms, “she never warmed up to the others.”

Your hand freezes, even as Lily makes no change in behaviour. “I thought the other tutors didn’t like her?”

Taehyung chuckles, the movement jostling your shoulder. “Would you have come down here had I told you she was unfriendly?”

You harrumph, but find no real annoyance inside you. “How did you even get a tiger here? This is insane.”

With a slight grunt of effort, Taehyung lifts up off you and twists, letting his head rest on the tiger’s side instead, dwarfed by her body. He pats the ground beside him, but you shake your head obstinately, not ready to put your head so close to a predator. “One of my previous tutors brought her. Jungkook, his name was. He was the most brilliant carpenter, making not furniture but tools and delicate ornaments. I keep them still in my room. I digress; his father was a zookeeper, or so he told me, giving sanctuary to orphaned creatures too wild to be housepets. Lily’s mother was rescued from poachers while she was pregnant.”

You frown, staring unabashedly at Taehyung’s graceful face now that he’d closed his eyes. “But why did you get Lily? Did she not stay with her mother?”

Taehyung shrugs lazily, making Lily adjust and huff beneath him, also drifting off into a comfortable nap. The only sign Tae is still conscious is his willingness to engage in conversation, and even then his voice is slurred with relaxation. “Their zoo was not so well off, you see, financially. One senior tiger was one thing. A cub? They wanted to release it into the wild and pray to the Lord for the best. Jungkook pulled some strings for me, the sweet boy.”

“Why Lily?”

A single eye cracks open, staring up at you balefully. “I did just say.”

“No,” you fumble, cheeks heating, “why the name? Why Lily?”

“Well; what do you suppose a tiger should be called?” He waits for a moment, letting the rhetorical question dangle in the air before he allows you the answer. “Jungkook’s birth flower was a tiger lily. Tiger, lily. He had to leave, serve in the army, but I did not wish to lose all of him. He was my first love, you see.” A sad smile stretches across his face, and the light dulls from his eyes, reminding you hauntingly of that photograph Hoseok had shown you. “I do miss him terribly, despite Lily here to keep me company.”

You find yourself stricken into silence, heart aching for him. You don’t know what to say, whether to ask if he was finishing his stint in the military soon, or whether to avoid the discussion of the boy altogether. Taehyung seems to settle into the silence, breathing in turn with the quietly snoring tiger.

A solemn air clouds around you, heavy and pressured. Behind your eyes, you feel a sting as your mind wanders where your tongue holds, at the thought of being left behind by the man you love, having nothing more than a namesake and some carvings to remember him by. Of not knowing where he was, if he was okay. You blink hastily, tilting your gaze up to the sun.

Although his eyes have slipped shut, Taehyung seems to feel your change in mood. His lip quirks in reassurance. “Do not worry for me, my dear,” he consoles, “that love no longer pains me like it used to. Even during our time together, I did feel that affection hurt uniquely. We both knew our company was finite. There’s an agony in that, woven with euphoria.”

You find yourself scrambling for words, unmoored by how easily he spoke with such conviction and colour. “I hope you don’t feel pain like that again,” you offer up after a moment.

He swallows, throat bobbing, and hums, a low smile gracing his features. “I do.”

With no idea what to say to that, you lower your head to the field around you, watching Taehyung’s head rise and fall with the tiger’s chest. Watching his fingers fiddle with blades of grass, his own breath even out. The two of you sit quietly with Lily until the sun begins to set and the air finally cools. As the sky erupts in purples and pinks, and the sinking sun casts royal orange over Taehyung’s already golden skin, you yearn for that agony too.

Life on the island is easier to adjust to than you’d been expecting. The void of your phone dissipates slowly, but other conveniences in your prior life are so quickly replaced by new routines that you don’t find yourself missing them.

Taehyung is a clever and diligent student, never complaining about the theory lessons or hours of practice you ask him to complete. While he isn’t the quickest learner, what he finally masters seems concretely rooted in him, and he never forgets a bar once he’s memorised it.

You end every lesson playing a piece for him upon his insistent request. Like the first time, he challenges you to call upon compositions that fit certain emotions and atmospheres. When he plays, demonstrating the few lines of music he’d learned that day, you feel a soul creep between the notes, his fingers sliding along those keys so reverently.

Outside of lessons, the two of you grow closer still. There’s a certain intimacy in shared meals, and Taehyung seemingly never tires of cooking, offering to teach you but never expecting you to provide. You try, nonetheless, growing accustomed to the stone oven and rudimentary utensils. No dinner is ever quiet; despite spending most of your hours together, Taehyung never runs out of conversation to make, and is always genuinely interested in what tidbits you offer up yourself.

You learn about him rapidly through these tangents and asides. His favourite novel was a Jules Verne book, Around the World in Eighty Days. “I’ve read it a hundred times,” Taehyung once confessed, “and yet I can never begin to imagine it at all. Isn’t that curious? I find myself rather addicted to it.”

His taste in music was expansive, and he ended almost every day sat by his record player, staring deeply into space, ear angled directly at the bell-shaped horn. His foot would tap but he’d be otherwise still, so enraptured in the tune. He acted much the same whenever he looked at prints of famous paintings, staring at them intensely, unmoving. If anything, you wish you could hear what was going on inside his head at those times.

The first two months race by, and before you realise how settled you’ve gotten, Jin is back with a new shipment of goods. He receives a warm welcome from the two of you, and remarks with a meaningful weight in his tone just how happier Taehyung seemed to be compared to the previous time.

Thrilled to see another human, you ask for him to join the two of you, but he agrees to sit down for a cup of tea exclusively.

“Storm warning coming up tomorrow,” he explains, legs splayed wide and arms crossed over his chest as the three of you converge in the kitchen. “I want to head out ASAP just to get ahead of it in case it hits early. Can’t be too careful out there.”

“A-yes-apie,” Taehyung repeats with a crinkling of his brow, leaning against the kitchen counter with only two wooden chairs at the table.

“A-S-A-P,” Jin corrects warmly, “‘as soon as possible’, old chap. I must’ve picked that lingo up at the docks, I suppose.”

Taehyung seems to perk up at the new phrase, lips mouthing the letters silently to recall it. “Do you… have anything else like that?”

Jin’s eyes dart to you, so quick you almost miss the way his lips tighten, but his posture remains casual. “Check out the books I brought, maybe they’ll have some other figures of speech in there. Dickens, maybe. I brought you David Copperfield.”

Taehyung nods emphatically, the furrow in his forehead finally lifting. “I’ll be sure to read it carefully. Much obliged.”

Jin downs the rest of his tea in a single gulp and gathers his heavy coat, taking his leave so quickly that you barely get the chance to really enjoy his company or catch up at all. Only at the door, after Taehyung hugs him one last time and heads out back to feed the animals does Jin hook your arm in his gently and pull you aside.

“The two of you seem happy,” he states soberly, “which of course is a good thing, but be careful, Y/n. With yourself and with him. You’re on a timed contract.”

You frown, face falling. “What do you mean?”

“I- nothing, I suppose, I just want the best for you both. It’s a very… unique situation. Keep your best judgement in mind.” He sucks in one last breath, frowning at the spotting of clouds on the horizon, and glances back, tugging you into a sudden hug. “You’re a good fit here, Y/n. I’m glad he has you for the next few months.”

Thoroughly confused, you savour the hug as best you can before Jin is departing, rushing down the gravel path back to his docked ship. He’s gone within the next ten minutes, and your mind is soon occupied by the thought of what to have for dinner.

The storm Jin had rushed out ahead of hits you a day after his departure. Your lesson is cancelled in order to herd all the animals under cover around the island when thick black clouds get hooked around the top of the mountain. Before you’re able to as much as brew a cup of tea, a tropical rain pelts the manor, soaks the land and encloses you firmly indoors for the foreseeable future.

Back home, life goes on as normal when there’s a downpour, just with added umbrellas and rainboots. There is enough shelter in a city to keep it at bay, and the infrastructure to ensure as little flooding as possible. Out here, the elements reign over the island and you’re kept under their mercy.

Taehyung assures you that this happens seasonally, and that the fields quickly turning to swampwater will return to normal in due time. Apart from Lily, who is carefully lead into her own stables and hooked to a post, the animals huddle in wooden coops and huts, using their own judgement to stay dry.

The two of you make the most of the time together. It’s too noisy in the ballroom to attempt a piano lesson, so the rain on the roof becomes white noise as you whittle away the hours on the first floor living room, Taehyung reading to you (his new Dickens, much to his delight, is just as enjoyable as the last one) or you telling him highly-edited stories of your childhood.

Despite the storm being humid, the house is surprisingly cool, and over the days of unbroken downpour, you find yourself naturally sitting closer and closer to Taehyung every time you make your way down there. The Dickens book doesn’t last long, so Taehyung digs out other things to keep the two of you entertained. An old untuned violin, a stack of playing cards missing the seven of hearts, even a worn joke book with puns so bad that you can’t help but laugh.

It’s the sixth day of straight rain when things turn sour. It’s early in the evening when Taehyung decides to go out to check on the animals.

“I’ll come help,” you offer, already jumping off the chaise lounge, but Taehyung whirls around with an emphatic shake of his head.

“Unwise,” he insists, “I wouldn’t want you to catch a chill. Besides, I know all the nooks and crannies they’re taking shelter in. They tend to spread around the island more than usual when they have to find cover.”

“At least let me keep an eye on you. I have a raincoat,” you insist, and he sighs but protests no further.

Outside, the rain is pelting with a vengeance. You grimace in sympathy for the creatures stuck outside, not granted the same care as the two of you and Lily. Even with your oiled leather rain jacket on, you quickly become drenched.

Taehyung, in nothing more than his usual blouse and dress pants, bursts out into the fields behind the sprawling mansion without a care in the world. His hair is plastered to his scalp, the weight of the water removing even the most stubborn curl, and his blouse clings to his skin, turning transparent enough that you can see the shadow of a mole between his shoulder blades.

When he turns to you, he has to yell over the crashing of the storm, the rain near deafening. “The chickens have their henhouse, but I do worry it might flood. If you can check it out, I shall go find the cows.”

“Find them?” you yell back. “I thought you knew where they would go?”

He smiles widely, teeth glinting as water runs off the tip of his nose. “I know a few spots, dear Y/n, but I did not meet with them directly to witness their choice.”

You frown, but Taehyung is already setting off, warning you to be safe as if you’re the more at danger. As you see his figure grow smaller, not running towards the hilly range but instead parallel to it, you give up and turn the other way to the henhouse.

It’s fairly large, and although it looks as old as time, it’s the stout kind of old rather than the rickety one. The posts holding it in place are worn entirely glossy smooth, and the nails have all but sunken inside, never to be shifted.

You can’t hear the chickens, and as you approach your heart races, scanning the roof for any visible holes or weaknesses. There don’t seem to be any, but still you make haste for the entrance to the coop, boots sinking ankle deep in the mud with every step.

Finally, you get there, calves aching from yanking your feet free the whole way. Catching your breath, you don’t even mind the thick sheets of rain that continue to slip beneath your raincoat and fill your boots.

Your grip on the window cover is slippery at best, and it takes you an embarrassingly long time to fiddle with the hook that keeps it closed. The chooks still have their own hutch doors to come and go as they choose, but you’re worried about startling them and causing a feathery exodus.

Eventually you lift it up and off, and slide the window to the side as quietly as you can, grateful that the rumble of the rainclouds muffles most small sounds.

Fearing the worst, you lift up on your tiptoes and peer inside. Instead of a flood of water and drowned chickens, you’re greeted with the smell of hay and the humid air of shared space. Below, the chickens have huddled together on the dry hay, sleeping soundly. None of them stir as you look around, and just as slowly as you opened the window, you latch it shut again.

Turning back the way you came, you keep your eyes peeled for Taehyung. Sprawling fields, waterlogged and empty. You can’t make him out along the foot of the hills, which means he must’ve continued further towards the west coastline.

You make your way over there, straining to hear or see anything over the chaos of the summer storm. Passing Lily’s shelter, you check inside, but he’s not returned their either.

She watches you with intelligent eyes, bucking her snout at the ice chests of meat you keep stacked in the corner for her. The metal receptacle is impossible for her to open with strength alone, but she’s seen you and Taehyung use it to feed her enough times to recognise it.

“Okay, sweetheart, just quickly.” To be safe, fearing for your heart that hasn’t quite gotten comfortable in her free-range presence, you take it outside to open, pulling a slab of ground beef out.

Lily didn’t mind chewing it like an ice block, so you simply close the chest again and enter, lobbing it to her immediately so she doesn’t come to you.

She’s more than content to snap it up with a happy thud of her front paw, ducking her head to drop it on the floor directly in front of her, gnawing at it side-on.

Setting the ice chest back down, you rub your icy hands together, working the heat back into them. “An early dinner, huh? Cheeky thing. I promise I won’t tell Taehyung that I already fe-”

You cut yourself off, going ramrod straight. Lily even pauses her eating, watching you warily. You swear you heard something, a yell or cheer or…

Without pausing to say goodbye to the big cat in the barn, you rush outside and squint, looking for what could’ve caused it. Inside, you know there’s only one other being on the whole island, but the dread swirling in your stomach is already too much to handle.

Wiping your face in frustration, blinking away water that keeps returning, you fight the churned-up ground and half-jog towards the coastline.

Even as you approach, the only noise is the thundering rain, and you feel like you’ve gone crazy, but the lack of further sound just makes you more paranoid.

You’re almost running now, heart burning and legs screaming at the effort it takes. It feels like running in a nightmare, sluggish and not fast enough, but eventually the rocky beach comes into better view.

Suddenly, a movement catches your eye, and your heart stops. Following the flash, you see that the edge of the hill closest to the beach turns to rough stone. Halfway up, the rocky slope turns concave. Under the lip, the cows are lying down, tails flicking lazily as they chew their cud.

You frown, eyes following the cliffside down. There’s no trail, no easy way. Did he climb up to check on them more closely? Maybe he slipped a little and it caught him by surprise, you ponder, but the thought is weak even in your own head.

“Taehyung!” you scream out desperately, fearing the worst. “Are you out here, Taehyung? Do something, make some noise!”

Your voice is quickly swallowed up by the pounding of rain, but the closer you get to the beach, the more the sprawling sand absorbs the impact and lessens the volume.

If you weren’t straining your ears so intently, you would have missed it.

A weak whistling rings out, reaching you on the last legs of its strength. You follow it, heart thudding as you place the tune. The song you had played for him on the piano weeks, months ago, when he’d asked for something romantic.

The sound grows louder the closer you get to the foot of the hill, and the first glimpse of him you see is his inky hair contrasting against the sand.

“Tae,” you yell out, “oh my goodness, are you okay, what happened?”

He’s unable to answer you beyond a grunt of acknowledgement, and your heart flares at the pained tinge it carries. The whistle trails off with it and somehow the silence that follows is worse.

All there is is the crash of rain on sea and rocks, and him.

Without care for your already soaked clothes, you collapse at his side the second you reach him. Further away the rain had clouded your vision, but leaning over him like this, you see the golden crests of sand clinging to his bare throat and jaw, some grains even stuck on the pale pink of his lips.

It’s vastly overshadowed by the harsh pink that covers the rest of him.

The rain has watered the blood down almost to nothing in some places, but the shadow in the sand beneath him and the stained fibres of his clothing hold the pigment stronger.

He’s bleeding from somewhere on his face; the well doesn’t stop, ebbing from close to his hairline and mingling with angry rainwater.

His brows are furrowed deeply with the ache of it, and he’s still, hauntingly so. But still, when you go to wipe the muck and violent matter from his face, you catch the way his lips tilt just slightly, a smile in spite of it all.

This whisper of his humanity is what snaps you out of your shock. You take in a gasping breath, mind running a mile a minute. “We have to get you inside,” you half-shout over the crashing storm, “is anything broken? You can feel your legs, right? Taehyung? Fuck, what do I-”

He’s not responding fast enough, and here isn’t the place for an interrogation. With no other choice, you dig your hands into the bloody sand beneath him and lift him from it, gritting your teeth at the dead weight.

The movement rips a guttural cry from him, and a shaking hand flies up to cradle his face. He still doesn’t speak a single word, but clings to you like his life depends on it.

It probably does, and that fact makes you endure with a greater haste.

It’s a long trek back to the estate. Wet sand turns to wet dirt, and with the added load your feet sink into the mud even deeper. Every step is a juddering thwack that makes Taehyung whimper, and more than twice you find yourself crying out with him, half to drown that anguished sound and half to curse the skies that pelt you without mercy.

Your muscles scream at you, but you push forth. By the time the massive building enters your blurred vision, you can barely breathe, throat worn thin from gasping. Taehyung has stopped responding to the jerking tug of your uneven movements. You suspect he’s lost consciousness, and the fire in your chest pushes you the final stretch.

Lily’s hut is closer than the back door, so you stop in that stable and lay Taehyung down on the hay, lungs screaming at you.

He doesn’t move an inch, simply sinking into the dried grass with his natural gravity. From her perch on the other side of the room, Lily goes silent too.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you pant out when your voice returns, heart warming when she abandons her prized ground beef popsicle to come to Taehyung.

Padding over, she gingerly nudges his jaw with her nose. His face lolls lifelessly to the other side. With her uncanny intelligence, she ducks her head down and presses it to his stomach, waiting a few moments. Her red ochre eyes watch you carefully as her head barely lifts and falls with his shallow breathing.

After a minute, she mounts the hay beside him and lies her full weight on it, gently nosing at his body until it’s tucked neatly beside her. Although she’s lying as if to sleep, her eyes don’t leave him for a minute, nor do they close.

“Keep him safe,” you request of her with a cracked voice, though you know it’s redundant to even ask. “I just need to grab some things.”

You use the side door to enter the house directly, so exhausted that perhaps even fifteen seconds of the pelting rain might cause you to collapse entirely.

Inside the house, the air is cool and a little humid. You drip a trail over the polished floorboards, marble and Persian rugs that fill Taehyung’s home. There’s no time to waste in getting changed into dry clothes, so you simply shuck them in a random hallway, remaining only in your soaked undergarments.

With that burden removed, you move quicker to his room, grabbing his blanket. Your next stop is a necessary one, linen from a closet you can use to clean and bandage his injuries, plus towels to dry him as best you can.

For the first time in a long time, your isolation feels like a curse. There’s no ambulance you can ring, no internet to search for help. He doesn’t even have ibuprofen, wouldn’t know what it was even if you told him.

The best you can do is some plain bread from the kitchen pantry and a reserve of Finnish vodka that he’d been saving for something special.

Hurrying with your arms full, you almost slip down the wet corridors, but in no time you’re back in the warm stable, now filled with the worried purring Lily is attempting to rouse Taehyung with.

“He’ll be okay,” you promise, beginning first by pressing a balled-up bedsheet to his forehead. He doesn’t even have the energy or awareness to cringe at the pressure, but luckily the bleeding slows enough for you to clean the rest of him clumsily with your other hand, towel after towel quickly becoming waterlogged with a dirty pink.

After tying a fresh cloth to his forehead, large enough that it covers one of his lidded eyes, you tentatively begin to undress him.

It feels wrong, exposing his cold and clammy skin like this. But you know he needs to get dry and warm, and can’t do that lying in pounds of soaked fabric. Lily moves back enough for you to slide his pants off and gently pull his unbuttoned shirts from behind his back.

Even the hay is dampened and compacted now, so with a grimace you lift him to a dry spot, laying half his blanket underneath him, and wrapping the top around.

With a light huff, Lily returns to her place at Taehyung’s side, this time settling lower down, resting her head on his thigh. Perhaps pleased at your level of care, she twitches her nose and closes her eyes to sleep.

It’s a long day, and an even longer night.

Once you’re confident the bleeding has stopped, you use a bucket of rainwater and a fresh pillow case to carefully erode the dried blood from his face and ear. It’s slow going; you’re terrified to hurt him more than he’s already injured.

He flinches a couple of times, when you dab closer to his temple, but doesn’t wake. You finish in silence, revealing the nature of the injury.

It’s a nasty scrape, but shallow, and luckily with the rain, no sand has managed to embed itself in the maw. Some of his hair has come away, leaving an uneven hairline just above the shell of his ear.

Biting your lip hard enough to taste blood, you brace yourself and tip some of the vodka over the partially dried wound. Taehyung’s fingers curl into claws in his sleep, but still he doesn’t rouse from the slumber that’s taken him.

In the end, you feel good about your cleaning and dressing of the wound. An unused handkerchief is the perfect size to fold into a triangle and tie around his head, and it looks far less serious now that it’s tidied up and treated.

What keeps you awake is what lies beneath.

How are you supposed to know if he’s got a concussion? If there’s internal bleeding, or his brain has blown up like a balloon inside his skull? You’re unable to research any symptoms and even if you did, there’s probably very little for you to do.

Until he wakes - if he wakes - you can’t even question how high up he was when he fell, and if it was a clean tumble or if he injured himself further on the way down.

Lily doesn’t seem to be able to stay asleep either. She barely finishes her dinner, and wakes almost on the hour every hour to check if he’s awake. He doesn’t.

The second day is somehow worse.

Torn between not wanting to leave his side and wanting to bring more supplies for him, your day is a long stretch of anxious waiting interspersed briefly with mad dashes into the house.

You forget to eat, but it doesn’t seem important. You worry more about the way his lids have begun shifting, as if the eyes beneath are restlessly rolling in his skull. There’s no way for you to tell if this is a good sign or an omen.

There’s no way for you to tell if he’ll wake at all, and when the storm finally lifts on the third day and yet Taehyung remains asleep, that’s when the if starts feeling insurmountable and ominous.

Maybe he’s dying behind closed eyes. What would you do if he stopped breathing for good? Bury him in the sludge outside? Or worse, keep him inside to rot aboveground until Jin comes to pick you up off the island?

This whole place was his home alone. You suppose it would be his tomb alone, too. The thought keeps you up at night, trembling fingers pressed against his neck and wrists, trying to tell if that thud is his life essence or your own terrified pulse.

In the early hours of the fourth morning, it strikes you that there’s no reason to keep him in the stables. While Lily has been a loyal companion, it’s far from all your necessities and you have no doubt lying on a pile of hay wearing nothing but underclothes and a blanket for days on end is particularly comfortable.

It feels a little wrong to move him, at first, but once you put your will to it, you get the strangest premonition that this might be enough movement and life to rouse him, that perhaps if you got him settled nicely in his bed, he might recognise the smell and decide to wake.

Whether it’s overtiredness or denial that brings about this hope, you latch onto it and whisper promises to Lily that you’ll take care of him.

He’s a little lighter in your arms without wet clothes, but still the dead weight makes you wobble precariously up the stairs. Several times you almost believe he shifted in your grasp, but you’re stumbling about too much to be sure.

You make it to his room, starting to grow a little stale with lack of use, and gently tip him onto the mattress.

He bounces on it, the blanket dislodging and revealing his bare chest. Flushing, you turn away and busy yourself in his closet, trying to find a tunic or robe that would be easily put on for his privacy.

You’re so focused that you almost miss it.

The softest voice, calling out your name.

You go ramrod stiff, turning around like something’s about to jump out at you. Taehyung has a hand pressed to his face, fumbling over the slightly crusty handkerchief tied onto it. You watch in near disbelief as he groans again, bare toes wiggling near the edge of the bed.

“Y/n,” he calls out weakly again, “you have not left me, have you?”

This thaws your frozen body in an instant, and you rush to the side of the bed, tripping in your haste and banging awkwardly on your knees at the bedside. “Taehyung, I’m here, can you hear me?”

He swallows, a slow and laboured movement, before replying. When he does, his voice is a little clearer. “Of course I can, my dear, my ears appear to be intact.”

You almost can’t talk, half-scared he’s some kind of mirage from your tired brain. How does he sound, well, fine? As if waking from a rejuvenating sleep. “Your… your head doesn’t hurt?”

His smile quirks. It’s been far too long since you’ve seen it, and your heart pangs sharply when it vanishes with a grimace. “Alas, it pains me greatly. Never mind it, I have no issue with enduring the consequences of my actions. I don’t suppose you have water on hand? My throat feels rather dry.”

You inform him you’ll fetch some from the kitchen, and he hums sweetly, letting his eyes slip closed again. Spilling a third of it on the floor along the way as you rush, you make it back to the room in record time, praying he hasn’t fallen back under.

Quite the contrary, he’s sitting up in bed, propped by pillows and stretching out the muscles of his limbs methodically. He glances up, almost shocked at your frazzled state. “You seem unlike yourself,” Taehyung comments mildly, accepting the glass with a grateful stroke of your hand.

The contact electrifies you, and you stubbornly push down the urge to take him in your arms, instead clutching at the bed as you kneel back down by the edge of it. “You’ve been unconscious for almost four days.” Your voice is flat, but you know the sting in your eyes betrays your emotion. “Do you not remember falling off a cliff, Taehyung?”

“Four…?” The curly-haired man blinks in a daze, brows pulling together as he shakes his head lightly. Letting out a sigh, the worry lifts from his face, and he downs the last of his water, eyes warm as they regard you. “Ah, the cliff. I slipped a little, perhaps, but I wasn’t too worried. The cows needed tending. I apologise for scaring you, but I really am quite alright.”

“Scaring me?” you echo, incredulous. “You petrified me, Taehyung. What were you thinking?”

His eyes are faraway, twinkling as he stares up at the ceiling. “I had an angel looking over me.”

Shaking your head emphatically, you let out a noise of frustration, though it’s so thick with concern that there’s no bite to it. “Tae, you climbed up a slippery slope in the middle of a raging storm. What help is a celestial being going to be when you put yourself in danger like that?”

“You misunderstand me,” he corrects gently, finally focusing back in to meet your exasperated stare. “You are my angel.”

Your anger evaporates into a strange sense of hopelessness. “You could’ve died,” you state weakly, chin sinking to rest on your folded arms.

His eyes go a little cloudy then, regretful. “I am relieved I didn’t. When I fell, when you found me-” he breaks off with a small sigh, gaze skirting around you, “-I couldn’t make out your face through the rainwater in my eyes. It was… troubling to me. That I might leave this earth without seeing you one more time.”

Your nose twitches violently, and your eyes well up, unable to contain the swell of mixed emotion inside you. “Tae, don’t speak like that,” you plead, lip quirking to try and make light, “you’re just flattering me because I nursed you back to health.”

Instead of easing at your attempted joke, Taehyung’s face darkens in hurt. “I do understand that you don’t return them, but please do not trivialise my feelings. They are all I have here.”

You don’t quite know what to say like that. Your heart races, such a heavy thud that you wonder if he can feel the vibration through the mattress. “I’m sorry,” you land on, though it’s weak and doesn’t quite encompass all you wish to say. At his tense nod, you try again. “It’s… it’s not true.”

His mouth tilts down in confusion. “What is not true?”

You can’t bear to look at him. You can’t bear to look away. “That I don’t return your feelings.”

Taehyung stays silent for a moment, watching you carefully as your cheeks heat. When he moves, he does so with a careful sigh, fingers stretching out to brush along the back of your hand light enough to tickle. He doesn’t linger on it, letting his hand fall back to his lap.

“You have to think carefully now, my love,” he begins in a measured tone. “This has only happened to me once before and- it isn’t clean. Your contract will end, and we will part. I made the decision last time to seek love, and it very nearly killed me. I adore you far more than is wise, considering the heartbreak I’ve felt before, but I would choose it again. I would choose you and all the pain your absence would ignite. But this is not a decision I make lightly, nor one I can make alone.”

Taehyung’s voice is hushed, a smokey whisper intended only for you. “We can grow closer and face what may come, or we can protect our hearts and remain as we were, as friends and companions. I will take my lessons, and that will be it. I will not turn to anger for it. Please choose wisely.”

With the way he begins to settle himself deeper into the sheets, it’s clear he expects you to take your leave and think it over for a while. But this exact dilemma has been in your mind for far too long, and his near-death experience has provided clarity enough that you don’t wish to waste any more time. “I choose you, Taehyung. If you’ll have me.”

His eyes seek you out. The deep brown belies a flicker of gold as his face tentatively lights up. “And you mean that?”

You nod once. “I’m certain.”

“Then… I would very much like to get up and bathe, so that I may accompany you for- lunch? Breakfast? Whatever the hour is, I find myself rather peckish.”

“Of course!” You stand up quick enough to make your vision blur. “I’ll go make something, are you okay on your own?”

He glances down the side of the bed to the carpeted floor. “Oh, I should think so,” he mentions casually, voice rich with mirth, “it’s not as far a fall as the cliffs.” When Taehyung smiles, you feel your heart race at his beauty. Dark curls have even more volume from going unbrushed for days, and his cheeks are pink. He looks cherubic, angelic, and it takes considerable energy to remember your prior words and leave his side.

The biggest change between the two of you for a while is your proximity.

Taehyung still suffers from occasional headaches, and he walks with a gingerness you hadn’t seen from him before, so neither of you attempt anything out of the ordinary, but no longer do you sit side by side on the couch, or at opposite ends of the table.

Now, you run your fingers through his hair as he lays on your lap in the evenings, and mealtimes are lengthened with interludes of Taehyung holding your hand, or offering you bites from his own plate. His gaze lingers more than his touch, no longer attempting to keep his feelings subtle - if such a thing were ever true.

It isn’t unwelcome; on the contrary, you cherish your time spent with him even more. It feels almost like a fairytale, more so on this island that is entirely bereft of societal obligation or routine. There’s nothing to stop you from spending an entire day in the library, reading out passages that remind you of each other. You can waste away hours attempting to draw portraits, or take long walks through the gardens without concern of how the time is passing.

But perhaps your favourite moments together with him still are his lessons.

These days, you teach him piano with your sides pressed together, his fingers playing over yours as he shadows your movements. He often feigns difficulty in his scales or timing, requesting that you aid him if only to hear you play again.

Truthfully, he’s an incredibly talented student, and when you encourage him enough, he’ll play for you beautifully, rocking on the stool in rhythm.

“It sounds more full when you play, love,” he divulges one day, tapping lightly enough on a key that it barely sounds out, a whisper of a C sharp. He’d been attempting a relatively complex Beethoven piece and would’ve mastered it were it not for his insistence on having you repeat the bars each time he attempted it. “How does that trill go again?”

You bury a smile, reaching up to seek out the right keys. “You know it,” you rebuke softly as you let your fingers flutter over the piano, sweet notes echoing in the large room, “you did it perfectly yesterday.”

“After the accident, my memory is not as it used to be,” he responds, lifting his chin. “I have forgotten it.”

“Then why were you up at 5am this morning practicing without me?” you question mischievously. You’d heard him in the moments were your sleep was light, and had sat up in bed to listen to him play. The sound was muffled through the walls, but you recognised the tune, even going further than the pages you’d taught him before. “Gotcha,” you tease, picking up his hands by the wrists and depositing them in place. “You’re a maestro in the making, Taehyung, don’t you wish to make your teacher proud?”

With one eyebrow raised in challenge, Taehyung concedes. “Alright,” he allows, fingering the ivory, “I was simply wishing to savour the piece as long as possible in the hopes that Captain Kim might have a new one for us when he next comes. I should like to know if any of my favourite musicians have composed something new in these past few months.”

You nod in understanding with a small smile, but something ugly pangs in your chest. Guilt. All of his favourite musicians have been dead for over a hundred years, and he has no idea.

“Are you alright, love? You look away with the fairies? We can end the lesson if you’re tired.”

You shake your head at his worried words, pushing down that sickly emotion. “I’m okay, just zoned out for a moment. Come on; I wanna hear you do the whole thing, we only have a page and a half left.”

“And now,” he starts, his voice suddenly booming and his shoulders high, “all the way from a faraway island, playing Beethoven’s best, it’s Taehyung! Ladies and gentlemen, enjoy.”

You try to let yourself relax and enjoy his beautiful playing, resting your head lightly on his shoulder, but like needles, guilty thoughts prick your conscience. He doesn’t even know his last name.

Taehyung takes the bandage off after a week.

The skin there is a little pale from lack of sunlight, but his eye is bright as ever, blinking happily as his full vision is returned. A partially-healed scar dips from his temple to just behind his ear, silvery-pink.

The headaches aren’t as bad these days, he says, and with his return to health, a strange, childlike excitement arises between you. He holds onto your hand longer when you go for walks, he tucks his chin into the crook of your neck when he hugs you goodnight, lie in his bed in the evenings, legs tangled, talking about nothing and everything for hours before you return to your own room.

But still, you find yourself hesitating. The nature of your deception follows you like a dark cloud. You promised yourself to him, and yet you’re a dam that’s holding him back from the truth of the world. How easy would it be to let something slip and confess all you knew?

These days, he’s reading David Copperfield. While he usually speeds through novels at an alarming pace, it takes him a long time to progress in the Dickens book. In your moments alone, you spot him taking it out and curling up on the couch, holding it close to his chest.

You aren’t familiar with it, so you ask to read it once he’s finished, and a strange look flickers across his face. He agrees, but the answer is so uncertain that you decide not to bring it up again.

Instead, you let him enjoy his private moments, not pressing him. There are plenty of things to do on the island and in the house on your own, anyway, and truth be told you don’t mind the time to think.

It’s one of these days apart. Last you saw, Taehyung is in the field with Lily, reading his book under a tree. She’s more protective of him these days, and if he’s outside, so is she.

You’ve spent the morning at the beach yourself, enjoying the salty air and the sunwarm sand. It feels like the days are going by faster than you can count them, even though you do very little with the time.

Although you’d chosen to pursue something more, it feels like both Taehyung and you are hesitating, procrastinating, and while you know your lingering guilt is what’s holding you back, you can’t help but run circles in your mind trying to work out what his reason is.

There are only a few days before Jin’s next trip. That means the two of you have just over two months left together before you leave him. Is he having second thoughts? Is he remembering his first love, and wondering if it’s all worth it?

You squint at the horizon as if Jin’s ship is going to breach it any moment now. You wonder what he’d say if you told him you’d fallen in love with Taehyung. You wonder if he also feels this overwhelming remorse about keeping Taehyung in the dark.

Every day now, right when the two of you get closer than close, and you think he might be leaning in even more, the urge to spill your secrets floods your system, and you find yourself unable to match the distance.

The sun has passed its zenith; you’ve been here, in this one spot, long enough that the afternoon is hooking it back down again.

You’d be content to spend the day here, running through your options over and over as if the magical solution will spring forth from them, but as if he can hear your thoughts, Taehyung appears.

“Mind if I sit?”

You glance up, startled, and see him casting a shadow over you, the sun making his curls glow burnished bronze. He has a single hand splayed out, gesturing at the sand beside you.

“I mean, it’s a little crowded, but if you can find a spot,” you respond back, rewarded by the smile he sends you at the quip.

“This is an extremely popular destination, I’m not surprised.” He sits down beside you, less dressed than usual. It’s a hot day, and instead of his trimmed suits and cummerbunds, all he wears is a loose cotton blouse, such a pale beige that it shows the shadow of his skin, and a pair of tan pants that clung slightly around his thighs when he crosses his legs. “I wanted to see you.”

“Missed me?”

He simply lifts his brows. “You’d be surprised.”

“I want to ask you something,” you blurt suddenly, half-surprised at the statement. He pauses, leaning on his knees and pinning you with his gaze. “Are you- Are you happy here? You don’t want to go out and explore the world?”

Taehyung tilts his head like he’s confused at the question. “I- Well, I do believe I’m happy. And I can live well here. I have you, and I have Lily, and my art. My home is beautiful.”

This answer doesn’t satisfy you for some reason, and you shift, nervous about your loosening tongue. “Yes, but aren’t you curious? There’s a whole world out there. You barely even ask me what it’s like.”

His face goes solemn, voice a low rumble. “Do you want me to ask about it? What would you be able to tell me?”

Your blood runs cold for a moment, the air freezing in your lungs. Does he…? “What do you mean?”

Instead of answering, Taehyung straightens up again and sends you a soft smile before turning to watch the waves. “I have my art,” he says again, “my books, my music. I get the good things. The beautiful things. Perhaps ignorance can be a beautiful thing, too. I’ll listen to anything you have to say, my love, but I do feel happy with all I have here. Are you worried about me?” he asks, head crooking to send you a wry grin, teeth poking through.

You take in a slow breath. This is something you didn’t consider, that maybe only having the niceties wasn’t entirely cruel at all. But even as you consider letting him keep his ignorance, it feels wrong still.

He was a human, and he deserved the dignity to choose whether he stayed here or ventured out into the world, but right now he didn’t have all the information to make a true choice.

As you watch his eyes wander over you aimlessly, so filled with love that it makes his whole face gleam, you make your decision.

“I- Taehyung, I need to tell you something, but… I want to do something first.” Before I open Pandora’s box, you think.

A flicker of seriousness returns to him, but doesn’t soften the warmth as he reaches over to grasp your arm gently, just above the elbow. “Of course, my love. What is it?”

You take your time lifting your chin to him. Partially to give him time to move away if he wasn’t interested, but partly from the anxiety in your heart that this was all a mistake.

You hear him suck in a breath, thumb stroking over your arm, searing hot through the linen of your dress, but he remains in place, letting you join the gap.

When your lips touch for the first time, it feels like a balloon pops inside you. You jolt with the shock of how soft he is against you, slightly salty from sea air.

You can feel his lip curl up, and in the milimeter between you, he whispers your name like an oath.

It’s the first time, but you kiss him like it’s the last. The arm not in Taehyung’s soft embrace comes up to hook around his shoulder and neck, keeping him close, and he tilts his face to deepen the kiss in approval.

He’s a gentleman all the way, never more than the lightest flicker of his tongue against your lips, but still it’s the most intense kiss you’ve ever had. You feel ablaze like a forest fire, burning bright together under the afternoon sun.

Everything is Taehyung, his lips, his hands, his curls tickling your brow, and you hold yourself to him for as long as you have air in your lungs.

When you pull away, you’re gasping for it, front feeling cold with his absence. He’s blinking away the daze, lips swollen and hair mussled, with one hand buried in the sand for support.

“I-” You swallow away the lump in your throat that lingers, “I hope that was okay.”

Taehyung simply crooks a smile. “I have been waiting for this very moment for quite some time now, my love. It is far more than okay.” His face falls just enough to be noticeable. “What is it you wished to tell me?”

It feels like a bucket of cold seawater has been dumped over you. Reality kicks back in faster than you’re prepared for. “Taehyung,” you begin, almost stumbling over his name itself in your nervousness, “why are you on this island?”

He blinks, frowns, and shakes his head. “Well, this is my home.”

“But why?” you insistently question. “Everyone else in the world is born and lives in a community, a society. The real world. Why are you here, alone?”

The brunette is still, eyes not leaving yours even as his jaw tightens. “You know why. Is that what you wish to tell me?”

Dumbfounded, you reflexively shake your head. “I don’t understand. You’ve never wondered the reason? Never tried to ask anyone until now? You just… don’t know?”

“I’ve simply been informed that this is my place in the world,” he answers at length, voice stiff like he’s reluctant to part with the knowledge, or like he isn’t quite used to saying it aloud. “And what is the point of interrogating one of my tutors further? I’m Socrates’ prisoner, Y/n.” He waves a vague hand around, indicating the island. “This is my shadows in the cave. Perhaps it’s more simplistic than your reality, but it’s all I know.”

Indecision roils angrily in your stomach. A throb has appeared in the back of your head, sharp and unrelenting. “Do you… Would you want to know what it was like?”

It takes him a moment, but Taehyung shrugs, shoulders lifting gracefully under the thin cotton of his shirt. “It seems like you wish to tell me.”

That’s not the black-and-white answer you’re hoping for. Frustrated, you exhale a rough breath. “Taehyung, you’re living a lie,” you confess.

“Quite a nice one,” he remarks simply with a small quirk of his lip, eyes darting to yours before he looks out again at the slowly setting sun. “I imagine there are many people beyond this ocean who are living very painful and unpleasant truths.”

You find yourself lost for words, feeling somewhat defeated. “I guess that’s true… Taehyung, I- I don’t know.”

Taehyung reaches out, fingers brushing lightly against your cheek and chin, pulling an unconscious smile from you. “Anything you desire to tell me, I shall happily listen to.”

The smile doesn’t fade, but your uncertainty is still smoldering away within you. But still, now that you’ve started the conversation, you don’t think you can walk away from it - and eventually from him - knowing that he might be wondering. “I think you deserve to know the truth.”

“That’s kind of you, my love. I’m all ears.”

You get the strangest sensation that while he’s not averse to finding out, he doesn’t seem all that curious either. But then again, you can’t begin to imagine how you would react in this kind of situation. He has no idea of how much he doesn’t know about the world, that perhaps it doesn’t feel as important as you think it is.

Pushing on nonetheless, you adjust yourself in the sand to face him head-on. He mirrors you, raising his eyebrow in what appears to be amusement at your somber disposition.

“Taehyung,” you begin, “your father did something terrible. Has anyone told you anything about him, or your mother?”

“What did he do?” he asks instead, eyes locked on yours more intently now.

“He got a lot of people killed. Children among them. You were a baby at the time, Tae, and they were worried about you and your wellbeing if you were raised in that kind of environment.”

“They,” he muses wryly to himself. “Why did they not send me to another country, then? Or simply hand me into an orphanage as a nobody?”

“That’s…” you suck in a deep breath. “I mean, I can’t tell you for sure, but in our world, we have a lot of- of modern inventions that make it very easy to find out information about anything. I think they felt that nowhere you were registered would be safe enough for you.”

Something strange crosses Taehyung then, like a ghost or a shadow passing over. He sinks into himself slightly, and the light air evaporates. He watches you with baleful eyes. “Did they tell you it was for my safety?”

You blink. “You- know them? And why is that…?” You can’t quite process the words he says in time, and you feel your brain racing to keep up with potential implications and hidden meanings. “Taehyung, what is going on?”

To avoid looking into your eyes, he plunges his hand into the sand and pulls loose a handful, watching the golden grains pour through his splayed fingers. When he speaks, his voice is rueful. “I have not been entirely honest with you either. To tell you the truth now, I was waiting. Waiting to see if you would do exactly this.”

“Waiting to do what? What do you mean, not being honest with me?”

“I have been acting entirely naive of your world when that is not the case. Captain Kim, Jin, he tells me what he can. I have not met the ones that put me here as an infant, but he has explained my unique predicament as far as he sees it. I am happy to accept this fate, but it deeply troubles Jin. He hides it well, is excellent at playing innocent, though all the while is digging into this matter as deep as he can.”

“Jin told you everything? Not just about you, but about… the world? Technology, current affairs?”

“Ah, how current could it be when I only have the pleasure of his company six days a year?” Taehyung questions rhetorically. “He provides important updates in my case should there be any, and otherwise shares news from the outside world.”

You frown. “When did he have the chance to tell you that stuff? We were with him together.”

Taehyung’s smile is rich with mirth, eyes glinting through his low-hanging curls. “I believe you’ll find if I lend you my copy of David Copperfield, it will have less about Victorian England and more about the new anti-discrimination policy in South Korea. I must say, out of the whole world, I find myself most fascinated with them. They are the people that rejected me, but they are still my people.”

Reeling from this, you sink your chin into your hands. He had been extremely protective over the novel, but never would you have guessed that the ship captain was the one smuggling modern information into Taehyung’s limited world. “What- what about your case then? What is Jin finding out?”

When Taehyung beams again, it’s faraway and nostalgic. “He works with some people together on it. The son of the man who put me here, I believe you know him?”

“Hoseok?” you question, internally pleased he was one of the people helping out.

“That’s right,” Taehyung confirms. “I wish I could meet him to thank him personally. But him, and many of my past tutors… They connect in secret, trying to expose the nature of my exile to the world. It appears the decision to leave me here is considered among those in the know to be a mistake, though the ones in charge are the rare few who maintain its secrecy. Jin believes they fear the public reproach for their actions. You’ve met one of them; would you agree?”

“I-” You don’t have to think for much. “He seemed nice, but knowing the way most people in power are - yeah, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

Taehyung nods slowly. “I find it a shame that those words are true of your society. But nevertheless, Jin and his band of renegades are seeking to reveal me to the world and return me to modern society. It shall be quite a spectacle, I do not doubt.”

You frown, brows furrowing at the serene look on his face. “But do you want that? The spectacle?”

Silence blooms between you. Slowly, his slight smile turns melancholy. “I don’t believe I do.”

He falls silent after that, and despite your best effort to put your thoughts into order, to comment on how sad you find that lack of control, you can’t quite work out what to say.

You keep each other’s quiet company until the dusk air begins to chill your skin, and then you make your way back to the house, wasting away the last of the evening with the violin and the piano ebbing away at the solemn hush.

As the weeks go by, the weather cools, leaving you ever-aware of your shrinking time together. Both of you quietly dreading the news Jin might bring.

You spend more and more time tangled in his arms, kissing until you feel dizzy with it, but he never once takes it further. You’re not sure if it’s hesitance or reverence, but you’re quite content with what he chooses to give you.

Taehyung improves further in his studies, exponentially so. It’s hard to believe he’s only been learning it for four months, but his background in other instruments paired with the frenetic enthusiasm he’s garnered recently no doubt contribute to his quick proficiency.

The lessons get longer, but they don’t tire you. Instead, your heart swells with pride and fondness at his progress and his beautiful playing. He picks up on the emotion of each piece more than even you can; it’s no rare occasion that you feel yourself on the verge of tears or even laughter from his nimble fingers and the gorgeous bars they produce.

Like that fateful storm was flagging the end of the season, the weather begins to cool. The seawinds that rip up the coast are not as balmy as before, and you find the night air brings a unique chill once the sun reliquishes its hold.

As autumn closes in, the season of harvest begins, and Taehyung takes it upon himself to teach you how to tell when different fruits and vegetables are ripe, when to pluck them from their roots. Ever-diligent, he makes sure that the reserves of grain and feed for the animals are enough to last until Jin’s arrival and then some, and that the two of you don’t eat too many rations before he comes.

“You never know,” he mentions one day, “sometimes the ship can’t come on time for whatever reason.”

The two of you are enjoying a picnic in the midday warmth, savouring it while it lasts. A blanket covers a patch of grass in the back field, providing you a scenic view of the mountain’s crest to enjoy over sandwiches and cakes.

Taehyung is lying on his back, elbows propping himself up as he soaks in the warm rays. The golden light skips along his features, highlighting the moles and blemishes of his skin, but it only makes him look more heavenly. You get so caught up in observing him that you realise belatedly that he’s continued your prior conversation.

You hastily swallow down your mouthful of tangy lemonade. “Does that happen often?”

“Not outside of the stormy seasons,” Taehyung divulges. “Once, when I was a young boy - before Jin’s time, even - the ship took damage on a different route. It took a month to be fully repaired. It was my first winter without a carer, and I did not think it unwise to eat indulgently from the stores. I drained them bare, and spent three weeks scavenging on the island, eating what I could. I was foolish. Never again.”

You frown. “You were a child,” you state emphatically.

“Perhaps,” he admits stiffly, running a hand through his hair to bare his forehead, before the curls spring back, “but I did not have the luxury of a parent to hold my hand and tell me right from wrong. I learnt responsibility the hard way, but I learnt it quickly.”

“How old were you?” you ask softly, stomach curling. “When your carer first left?”

He has to think on it for a moment. “I believe I was eight years old.”

The number strikes through you like an icicle. “I- Tae, I’m so sorry. That’s inhumane. What if you’d died?”

He smiles guilelessly, eyes bleak. “My death is not an issue for them, Y/n, not really. Would it not make their lives easier? What they provide me is a courtesy. Something that, if word got out, they could use to ease the blow of their actions. But do not believe that they truly care about my safety. I am their skeleton in the closet.”

You watch him carefully from across the picnic blanket. He’s dressed up today, as if for the occasion of a picnic with you, but chosen to leave his suit jacket folded over on the grass. What remains reveals more of his figure, from the fitted cornflower blue shirt, tight cummerbund, and ankles peeking between his brown pant cuffs and black shoes.

Most of all, you take in his expression. There’s acceptance there, a bittersweet understanding of his place in the world, at least the world they’ve created for him. A branch of the government of a country he didn’t really understand, dictating his exile. You believe that’s the melancholy note in his eyes you saw in that very first picture of him, way back in your home country when Hoseok was briefing you.

It upsets you to see it now, when for so long his face had been brighter with your company. It’s that desire to see the sun glint in his eyes again that has you blurting it out.

“We could run away, you know. Just the two of us.”

Taehyung seems startled at your suggestion, brows furrowing. “Without anyone knowing? It doesn’t seem possible. My only hope of leaving this island is the whistleblowing Jin and Hoseok are working towards.”

You rack your brain, thinking back to you contract. You’d signed away your privacy forever in an instant, and only now are you realising the implications of why that might’ve been a necessary component of your employment. “There must be another way,” you mumble, heart aching for him.

“I’ve been informed they have quite a significant power in that society,” Taehyung explains gently, eyes soft, “and Hoseok worries that we do not have the resources to keep my return and continued presence there a secret. None of us know what would happen if we broke this isolation.”

He watches you, but you stay silent, sullen. “I know you only wish well for me,” he continues. “But I ask for your understanding when I tell you that this is something I fear, and a risk I am not willing to take. Besides,” he states, more lightly than before, “I will not leave Lily behind.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” you offer up, but you know the matter is closed. He’s right, you do understand that, but the situation feels so unfair that it’s difficult to accept it. You reach out for a slice of almond cake and munch quietly, trying to remind yourself that life back home wouldn’t necessarily be better for him just because it’s modern. Just because it’s what you know. “I’m sorry.”

“There is no need to be, my love. To be candid with you, even if Jin and Hoseok decide to reveal the nature of my situation to the world, I’m not sure I would wish to join society. Travel, yes, I long to see the world, but it is not mine to live in. As much as I can’t ask you to stay in mine. You see?”

Your eyes sting. You’ve been so focussed on trying to liberate Tae from this all that you almost forgot your own contract was ending. What would it be like, going back to the real world, leaving him behind? You don’t think you’re ready to conceive it yet. “I see.”

Taehyung sends you a smile, then, wise and sympathetic. “The air is turning cool. Let’s go back inside.”

That’s the last you two speak of it until Jin comes.

He arrives a day early, catching the two of you off-guard in your blissful denial.

So caught up in a stroll along the back beach where the shells were the pearliest, he’s already docked the ship and is inside with a cup of tea and a biscuit by the time you get back inside.

“So,” he starts off immediately,” an intelligent glint in his eye, “been having a pleasant time?”

Never one to mince words, Taehyung pulls him into a brief but tight hug and nods once. “A tantalising mix of love and near-death experiences.”

Jin freezes, rubber boots squeaking on the marble flooring. “What was that last part?”

You chew on the inside of your lip as Taehyung recounts the story jovially, pulling out a chair for you and for him as he goes. It still baffles you just how casual and unruffled he can be about his own safety, and to your relief it seems to upset Jin just as much.

“You know I love you, old chap, so please know that I mean this wholeheartedly, but you are absolutely insane.”

Taehyung blinks, lips curving down. “You don’t have to speak like me anymore. She knows that I know. We’ve shared everything.”

Jin lets out a deep sigh, and using the backs of his knuckles he pushes his small china plate further away from him. “I- That’s great, Tae. I had wondered… But don’t try to change the subject. How can you care so little about your own life when there are many who care for you? When there are countless animals on this island that need you to care for them?”

With a shrug, Taehyung sobers up. “It was exactly because I cared for them that I went out there in the rain. And I am very aware of my situation, Captain. My death would cause very few ripples, and I know you know it too.”

Jin stiffens when Taehyung uses his title. He looks pained, wrinkles around his eyes looking more weathered than moments before. “You’ve always been so frivolous with your own life,” he sighs, voice a low rumble. “Look, kid, I didn’t come here to lecture you. In fact… Well, the reason I’m early is because I brought a visitor.”

Selfishly, a zing shoots down your spine like you’ve been betrayed. “A new tutor? But my contract isn’t up yet.”

But Taehyung is locked in on Jin, gaze intent. “Who is it? Where are they?”

“He was sleeping, and I didn’t want to wake him,” Jin explains, “but he should be…” The sea captain trails off as a faint click sounds out through the near-empty villa.

The three of you fall silent and listen to the sounds that echo out. You can picture it so clearly; the clack of boots on the marble, the whip-like swish of laces being tugged through eyelets, and finally the dull thumping of socked feet.

A voice calls out a word unfamiliar to you, “hyung?”, and Taehyung goes stiff like he’s been shocked, eyes flying wide open, facing the doorway to the kitchen.

“He just finished his service, was discharged yesterday.” Jin’s voice is soft, and if it wasn’t for the minute twitch in Taehyung’s fingers, you would think he wasn’t even listening. “The first thing he did was call me and ask if he could make it in time to come see you.”

“To come see me,” Taehyung repeats numbly,  barely audible. The moment a tall figure rounds the corner, he sucks in a strangled breath, lips moving soundlessly.

You manage to tear your gaze from Taehyung and look in the doorway instead. The man standing there is young, perhaps Taehyung’s age, and his hair is dark, cropped tight around his ears and slightly longer on the top, like the military buzzcut has started to grow out. One ear has piercings running up its length, and you see the glimpse of tattoos curling around his right wrist. What shocks you most, however, is the modern clothes he’s wearing.

After spending months in dresses and pinafores, and seeing nobody but Taehyung in his fine attire, you’ve almost forgot what streetwear looks like, and it seems so dissonant in the context of the house. He’s in all black; an oversize t-shirt is partly tucked into tough-looking camo pants with bulky pockets. Tucked under one arm is a leather jacket.

Despite his intimidating outfit and muscular build, you find yourself most drawn in by the gentle look on his face. He has high cheeks that puff up with a small smile, eyes glittering as he calls out Taehyung’s name in a sweet tone.

Jin leans back in his chair, content to watch the interaction, looking fond as if they’re his family reuniting.

You feel like you could be intruding on a private moment, but you’re fascinated at the introduction of this new figure, the first other person you’ve seen since you said goodbye to Hoseok at the docks four months ago.

The man takes another step forward, almost shy, and with that, the dam breaks.

Taehyung leaps up with such intensity that he catches his hip on the table, lifting it off the floor and dropping it with a bang. He doesn’t so much as flinch at the loud noise, already rushing forward to capture the visitor in a tight hug, face buried deeply in the crook of his neck.

As if reflexively, the man’s hand comes up Taehyung’s back and cups the nape of his neck, holding him there with closed eyes and a trembling smile. “I missed you,” he whispers quietly, thick with emotion.

This only makes Taehyung burrow in deeper, looking small in the beefier man’s embrace. “I’ve thought about you every day since you left,” he confesses, pulling away enough to look him in the eye, but gripping onto his forearms with enough force to turn his knuckles white. “Jungkook, you’ve changed so much.”

“Not in the ways that matter, hyung,” the man, Jungkook, responds emphatically. The term isn’t one you recognise from your studies about the 1800s, so you guess it’s something specific to Jungkook, but it doesn’t take much to work out it’s a term of endearment. “You haven’t changed at all. More handsome, maybe.”

Taehyung almost melts at that, shoulders slipping low. “Will you stay this time, love?”

With that last word, your nervous system freezes over. The mention of the Jungkook Taehyung had once told you about comes rushing back. The one who used to tutor him, the one who brought him a tiger as a pet, his first love. Of course.

For the first time in nearly four months, you feel like you don’t belong here.

Instead of affirming entirely, Jungkook reaches out and places a broad palm on Taehyung’s cheek, brows lowering to emphasise his words. “We need to sit down and talk, hyung. All of us.” His gaze lifts to Jin, who nods back solemnly, and then to you. “I’m so sorry, how rude of me! I better introduce myself.”

Taehyung turns, letting his hands drop from Jungkook’s arms. You can’t help the way your heart leaps when you make eye contact with him again, the jealous urge to run up and kiss him silly. Instead, you reassure yourself with the fondness in his eyes. “It’s okay,” you answer Jungkook, “my name is Y/n, it’s nice to meet you. Taehyung told me about you.”

“Did he?” Jungkook’s eyes glint with a mix of mirth and delight. “I’m glad to hear I wasn’t forgotten.”

“I could never-” Taehyung starts fervently, head shaking at the mere suggestion. “I thought you would never return, Jungkook.”

There’s not enough chairs for four people. Instead, Jungkook pulls up a chest from the kitchen, the one you keep your salted meats in, and straddles it like a stool. You don’t miss how Taehyung scoots his chair closer to him, as if he might disappear at any moment. “I’m sorry, hyung. I had to leave. I know it didn’t feel… fair, but it was for the best. I went to university, did you know that?”

Taehyung perks up a little, though uncertainty clouds his gaze. “I thought you went into the military.”

Jungkook nods once. “I- at the time, I got accepted into my university, in a really good program, and I decided to put off my consignment until after I graduated.”

“You graduated?”

Jungkook grins wryly at Taehyung’s question. “Of course I did, hyung, can you imagine me quitting? I’m now qualified to teach Korean as a foreign language.”

You pipe up, curious about what his life was like after leaving a job placement like this. “Why did you choose that? Tae said you did carpentry here.”

Jungkook seems pleased that Taehyung passed that information to you, and nods at you warmly. Despite only just being reunited with his first love, the man gives you his full attention, seeming genuinely interested in making conversation with you. It makes your jealousy simmer down to a low smoulder.

“Well, I was actually the first other Korean person to accept the tutor gig. Most of the people before then had been from… England, was it?”

“England and Wales,” Taehyung adds in lightly, voice all quiet and contented. “When Jungkook came, I barely knew Korea existed. I had no idea why all the painting prints I’d seen didn’t look like me.”

Jungkook presses his lips together, eyes distant in memory. “I had been learning English since elementary school, but I was pretty rubbish at it. When I first got on the island, hyung and I practically had to mime to communicate anything. I’d never heard an accent like his, really.”

Taehyung’s eyes glimmer. “You looked so young back then, like a deer. The biggest eyes I’d ever seen. Despite how grown-up you appear now, you have the same eyes, love. I’d recognise them anywhere.”

With a hand reaching over to gently grasp at Taehyung’s, Jungkook continues his piece. “You pick things up quickly, in a situation like that. I could speak near fluently by the time I returned to South Korea, and I like to think I taught hyung the important things in Korean, too.”

Taehyung interjects to mumble something in Korean, too quick for you to even catch the syllables. But both Jin and Jungkook react, the former smiling sadly, and the latter leaning in close to rest his head on Taehyung’s shoulder briefly. “Me too,” he whispers back, fingers intertwined tightly.

Jungkook sits up to continue, though their hands remain linked. “Anyways, I had always dreamed of bringing Taehyung home with me, but I knew it would be difficult enough for him to navigate modern life without an added language barrier. So I decided to become a better teacher for him.”

Taehyung straightens up, eyes almost feverish. “So you left to- to help me?”

“I was always gonna come back for you, hyung. Surely you must have known that.”

Fiddling with his cuffs, Taehyung nods. “I’m just relieved you’re with me again. But Jungkook… There’s something you must know. Y/n and I…”

You jerk a little in your seat with the surprise of it. You’d felt a bit like a leftover, no longer needed, but Taehyung ropes you back in with an ease. While one hand remains connected to Jungkook, the other reaches out to link with one of yours.

Relishing in the contact, you squeeze his hand fondly even as you watch Jungkook and Jin’s reactions with anticipation.

Jin just smiles ruefully, shaking his head. “What are the odds, huh? Finding love twice in the middle of nowhere.”

“If you’ve moved on, hyung, I understand,” Jungkook offers up kindly, voice low.

“No, of course not, I-” Taehyung shakes his head intently. “My love is not a monologue, Jungkook, it is an orchestra, and I am allowed to love you both. I do love you both. And Jin… while not with the same intent, I love you too.”

“Hey, no harm, no foul,” Jin jibes easily, “there’s no need to explain. I love you, Tae, you’re the little brother I never had. This does put us in a difficult situation, though. Where do we go from here?”

Taehyung lets out a slow sigh, tugging both of his hands - still attached - into his lap. Your fingers twitch when your knuckles brush with Jungkook’s, and he sends you a sly smile like you’re sharing an inside joke. The last of your selfish desires sputter out with how kind and accepting he is, and you feel silly for feeling so envious upon first encountering him.

“Are there any updates on the case?” Jungkook asks Jin carefully when Taehyung fails to respond.

“To be quite frank, we’re running out of time to make a move,” he explains. “Mr. Jung and his colleague are planning on retiring very soon, and Hoseok tells me they have plans to destroy all evidence of what happened with Taehyung entirely.”

You frown. “What does that mean exactly? What changes?”

“First of all, if there’s no evidence, there’s nothing we can use to make them accountable and charge them,” Jin divulges. “And it’s not just the evidence of my shipping routes and the tutor contracts. It’s believed they have everything locked away, including Tae’s birth certificate.”

“And they want to destroy it,” Jungkook summises, looking angry for the first time you’ve seen. His knuckles are white as they grip Tae’s fingers, but the brunette doesn’t even react.

“I would simply cease to exist,” Taehyung offers up in a whisper. His expression is unreadable, his tone level, and you wish you knew what was going on behind those intelligent eyes of his. “So what do you propose?”

Jin pauses for a moment, locking eyes with Jungkook. “Well… There are options.”

“Jin and Hoseok want to bring you to the Hanawon institution,” Jungkook states tightly.

“What is that?” you question. Taehyung also seems unfamiliar, jaw tensing warily.

“It’s a place for North Korean defectors to be educated on South Korean society and helped to settle there safely,” Jin elaborates. “But Hoseok knows someone there that could change Taehyung’s identity. He’d have a chance to learn how to function in the modern world without raising suspicion, and he could live a fulfilling life. It’s the best we’re gonna get, Tae.”

Taehyung looks down to the tangle of hands in his lap. You feel him rub his thumb slowly over your knuckles. “And what would happen to the others?” he asks carefully, not making eye contact.

At this question, Jin shifts in his chair, mouth tight. “That depends. Mr. Jung still has surveillance on past tutors. Even if he destroys the evidence, we’re unsure if he would still keep tabs on them himself to try and stop the word from getting out. It wouldn’t be wise to make contact.”

Taehyung’s head shoots up to look imploringly at Jungkook. “But you are with me now. Are they watching even here?”

Jungkook bites his tongue. “I have a friend living in my apartment, using my gas and electricity and sending correspondence as if he were me. It’s risky, and it won’t be possible for very long.”

“So I would not see you again? See Y/n again?” Taehyung’s voice is strangled, like the very thought is choking him.

You fight the urge to speak up, knowing the decision must be his, but dreading the answer either way.

Jin clears his throat lightly, with a sympathetic smile. “We can’t work miracles, Tae. Perhaps in time, if it seems like they’ve stopped-”

“It’s unacceptable,” the man hisses. You flinch at the intensity in his tone. “I appreciate your efforts, Jin, but this is simply unacceptable. I will not give them up on a ‘perhaps.’ I will not.”

“I understand, it’s a tough decision, but please think-”

“You said there were options.” Taehyung’s nails are digging in lightly, but you don’t think he even realises, shivering in his chair with barely restrained emotion. “What else can I do?”

“You stay here,” Jin states flatly, resigned. “You stay here, and they remove all evidence of you, which means that they’ll never send another tutor again, and the only person you’ll ever see is me dropping off supplies every few months, if they’re kind enough to continue paying me off the records. That’s the other option. Okay? I’m sorry, Tae.”

Despite it not being your future, you find your eyes prickling violently. Everything blurs a little, and you try to blink and sniff away your tears undetected.

On the other side of Taehyung, Jungkook is hanging his head, lifting their clasped hands to press a kiss to Taehyung’s knuckles. “I wish I could give you more,” he says, whispering it against his skin. “I don’t have a solution, hyung, but- I want to offer you something.”

Taehyung frowns, breaths shaky. “What is it, love?”

“I bought a boat off a friend. All cash, there’s no record of it. Not as impressive as Jin’s ship, but she’s seaworthy, and there’s room for two. Maybe three,” he adds, eyes sliding briefly to you. “My friend, the one staying in my apartment, he’s enlisting for his service in 13 months, and he’s promised to hold my place for that long if I need it.”

“Jungkook, what does this all mean?”

“I don’t know what the future holds for you, and I can’t choose for you,” Jungkook begins. Jin’s posture has slackened, but he still maintains the solemn air that’s filled the room. Taehyung has his eyes latched onto Jungkook as if he is the only beam of hope in that despairing haze.

“But I know you,” the black-haired man continues, “I know you always wanted to see the world, just like Fogg and Passepartout. Perhaps you wouldn’t be able to visit cities and towns, but there’s plenty to see from a boat, hyung, and I know there are plenty of uninhabited islands we could see too. I can hunt and fish, and Jin said he’d bring us supplies if we needed them. I wish I could give you forever, hyung, but at least I can give you a year.”

Taehyung looks utterly bewildered, and in his shock, he loosens his grip on your hand, turning to Jin. “We could do it? We could really see the world?”

Jin nods slowly. “It… would be possible,” he states carefully. “It’s risky; it would be much harder to get you accepted into the Hanawon institute in a year’s time with no evidence of your existence to show for it, but we could do it. I know you’d have to give up a lot, Tae, but if you have a year to think on it, then maybe you’ll see that we just want the best for you.”

With a hopeful look in his eyes, Taehyung drops both your hands and stands up, pacing the room. “Well, I- we have to pack! Y/n, gather your things, just the necessities. Jungkook, are your clothes back on the mainland? How long do we have before-”

He freezes suddenly, staring out the kitchen window. You crane your neck and see in the paddocks and fields outside, a streak of orange as Lily lounges in the sun.

The three of you stay silent as Taehyung watches her for a moment, his breathing the only sound. “I can’t go,” he states eventually, sinking into himself and leaning against the kitchen counter with his whole body weight. “I can’t leave her alone.” He furrows his brows. “How big is the boat, Jungkook?”

But even you can hear the way he already knows the answer. Jungkook does too. “Hyung, even if it were a massive cruise liner, we can’t take Lily on a boat. We don’t have enough meat for her. And she needs the open space to roam. I’m sorry. But…” His eyes flicker around the room, unfocused as he thinks of a solution.

Taehyung looks deflated, hollowed out by the fallen hope. “I’ve only just been returned to you, love, I cannot lose you so soon.”

“I didn’t even think about it,” Jungkook admits quietly, low enough that Taehyung can’t hear. Jin reaches over to grip comfortingly at Jungkook’s shoulder, but the brief spark of joy in them all has been extinguished.

At that moment, as Taehyung sinks to the floor and leans back hopelessly against the cabinets, as Jungkook curses himself and Jin helplessly looks back and forth between them, an idea strikes you.

An idea that you would never even have considered were it not for how much you love Tae, and how visibly much him and Jungkook love each other. Or for the fact that you know the expression he got on his face when he read Jules Verne, and the desire he had to see things other than this island.

You had the urge to tell him about the modern world because you believed strongly that he deserved to know and deserved to see it, and now you realise just how much you’re willing to give up to see that through.

“I’ll stay,” you say, and everyone goes still.

Jin is the first one to recover slightly. “What?”

“I’ll stay here with Lily,” you add, avoiding Tae’s eyes, not wanting to see his reaction just yet. “Tae and Jungkook can take the boat, and I can stay here and take care of her. Jin, could you keep doing your routes every three months?”

“Y/n,” Taehyung starts softly, but Jin nods once at you.

“I absolutely could,” he confirms, “if they left, they’d be doing so without informing anyone. Hoseok believes that when they destroy the evidence of the shipping route, they’ll start to pay me cash and forge the records. It seems even those assholes aren’t willing to fully screw Tae over.”

“How can you offer this?” Taehyung asks of you finally, voice cutting deep to your core. You can’t help but turn to face him, heart breaking at the way he looks so small and defeated sitting on the kitchen floor, yet his eyes burn with an intensity at the thought of you staying here alone. “How can you give up a year of your life in exile just for me to delay my own future? I cannot ask that much of you.”

You shake your head. “You’re not asking. I’m offering. I’ll ‘extend’ my contract another year and make sure Lily is safe and healthy here. I can look after the other animals, too. I can even garden now that you’ve taught me. You deserve to see the world, Tae. I want you to go and live.”

“I… Y/n…” He trails off, eyes pained, flickering between you and Jungkook, who simply gives him a small nod. “A year is a long time.”

“It is,” you admit, “but you’ve done it before. I can do it too. Let me do this for you, Tae. I love you, and that means I want you to be happy.”

Taehyung’s nose twitches sharply, his eyes flooding with tears. “I shall miss you terribly.”

You nod, heart racing. Are you really doing this? But you can’t take it back now, and part of your heightened pulse is undoubtably excitement for Taehyung, of all he will finally get to experience alongside the man he loves. “I’ll wait for you. It’s okay.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off you, but addresses the others. “How much time do we have?”

Jin grimaces. “I have another route leaving from Busan in about 26 hours. I can put it off until tomorrow morning at the latest.”

Taehyung nods grimly. “Then I ask that the two of you make yourselves at home in one of the spare bedrooms in the east wing. I wish to spend this last night with Y/n.”

“Of course,” Jungkook responds immediately, and to your surprise, when he stands, he turns to you first. “What you’re doing is huge, and I owe you a massive thank you. Are you a hugger?”

You smile at his question, happily burrowing yourself in his chest for a tight hug. He’s still very well built from his time in the military, but his embrace is soft and comforting. Even in your short time together, you think you might miss his company too, hoping that when they return the two of you could become friends irrelevant of Tae’s outcome.

Jin hugs you too while Jungkook and Taehyung make their temporary goodnights, and you breathe in his now-familiar musk of sea-salt. “This means a lot, Y/n, to all the people in this room tonight, and more.” When he releases the hug, he leans in closer, voice dropping in secret. “Don’t tell Taehyung, but I could probably adjust my schedule to spend a few days with you each time I visit. How about that?”

You grin at him. “I’ll hold you to that. Goodnight, Jin.”

Without it needing to be spoken aloud, you and Taehyung share a bed for the first time.

You lay curled against him under the sheets, holding onto his arm like an anchor. With your head propped up against his slender chest, you hear every heartbeat, and the warm resonance of his voice as he speaks.

“You can change your mind,” he mumbles. “I would understand.”

“I won’t,” you respond firmly, fingertips trailing lazy patterns on the skin of his arm beneath his nightshirt’s loose sleeve. “I’ve made my decision.”

“May I admit something?” he asks softly into the darkness of the room. You hum your confirmation. “Jin was kind to wish me a fulfilling life by going through the institute. But I believe I would live a more fulfilling life were I allowed to remain on the island with you three.”

You wait for more, but he lapses into silence, mulling on his own words. “Are you asking me to stay when you get back?”

“I will not ask such grandiose sacrifices of you or Jungkook,” he answers. His chin presses on the top of your head, and you sigh into the contact. “It is simply a fantasy.”

“I think I would do it.”

“What?”

You nod, careful not to jostle him. “I would stay with you both, I think. I have a feeling Jungkook would too.”

“What about your acquaintences back home? Your family?”

“I think I was chosen because I didn’t really have any,” you admit. “You know, I spent so long hyper-aware of the fact that I was lying to you about the world, that you were unaware of things, that I really never thought about things objectively. I assumed the modern world was better just because it was more true.”

“And now?” Taehyung asks softly, when you take a few moments to gather your words.

You hum to yourself. “I think I see what you mean about having a good life here.”

“Jin can’t do the shipments forever,” Taehyung points out.

But your eyes are heavy, and despite having limited time with Taehyung, you’re fighting sleep. “Mm, that’s a problem for us a year from now.”

Taehyung laughs breathily, hand shifting to tilt your chin up so he can lay a series of delicate kisses on your lips. “I love you,” he utters.

“I love you too,” you respond easily, adjusting yourself into a position you can fall asleep in.

For a few moments, you enjoy the warmth of his body against yours, the regular sound of his breathing. Your eyes prickle, dreading how much everything will change tomorrow, even though you still stand by your choice.

“Taehyung?”

You almost think you’ve left it too late, that he’s already asleep, but he lets out a noise of acknowledgement in his throat that rumbles through his chest.

“Tae, can I ask a favor?”

“Anything, my love.”

“Tomorrow…” You bite your lip. “Can you leave without waking me up? I don’t think I can say goodbye.” Your voice cracks on the last word, lip trembling violently, and his grip tightens around you in comfort.

Taehyung lets out a sad sigh, resting his cheek against the crown of your head. “If it is your wish, I will comply.”

“Thank you,” you say. And, because you don’t want that to be the last thing he hears from you for a year, you tell him you love him again, repeating it in your head like a mantra until you cease to think entirely.

The first few weeks feel impossible to endure.

Every sunrise gets a new pencilled line on the inside cover of Taehyung’s favourite book. You’ve started reading it, one page at a time to make it last longer.

Lily keeps you company, unsure where her best friend has gone. You put all your focus into maintaining a schedule of caring for her, the chickens and the other farm animals. It keeps you sane, if nothing else, and passes the time.

Jin stays for three days on his first visit. You cry for hours that first night with him to keep you company. The second night is for drinking away your sorrows and having him catch you up on all the shows and movies you’re missing out on. He even brings his phone and multiple portable batteries, letting you listen to his extensive library of downloaded music.

On the final night, you just talk. Sober, solemn, but hopeful too. He got a few postcards in the mail over those three months. Fiji, Papa New Guinea, and the Philippines. They’re safe, he tells you, and enjoying their long-awaited freedom.

The second period of solitude isn’t as bad. Jin leaves on a positive note, promising to bring you your favourite snacks from home if he can find them, and you start on the new books he’d brought with him.

Your plan is to make your way through Taehyung’s entire library before he gets back. You want to learn more about him, and while he isn’t here with you, you have his entire childhood and young adult life at your disposal. Reading becomes almost ritualistic for you, a way to connect to him.

It feels like half the time when Jin comes again. His rare correspondence divulges that Jungkook and Taehyung have made their way around the northern coast of Australia, across to Sri Lanka, and he’d received one last handscrawled letter stamped from Madagascar.

He brings them with him this time, lets you pore over their handwriting, memorising Taehyung’s prose as he retells what the sunset on the Indian Ocean looks like. They’re going around the world, it seems, though in the opposite direction to the path of Fogg and Passepartout in his book.

They ask after you, Taehyung more longingly than the other, but Jin is unable to return the correspondence due to the nature of their travel and how long the post takes.

But even the reminder that they’re still thinking of you, that Taehyung finishes every last message with a confession of his love and desire to be reunited soon, is enough to cheer up your spirits.

The seasons change. You grow used to being alone, though everything just feels so quiet all the time. You’ve passed halfway, however, and every morning you watch the inside cover of the Verne novel fill with grey lines.

Some nights you sleep in the stable with Lily, just to hear the sound of another living being. On those nights, you cry and wonder if Taehyung had done the same growing up as lonely as he did. It always warms you inside to think of him now, together with Jungkook in some foreign timezone breathing in fresh air and seeing new coasts.

When winter closes in, you reign in the animals early, not wanting to risk a storm like the one that almost claimed Taehyung. You find yourself naming them as if they’re your pets, wondering if Taehyung would find the names funny or well-suited.

Everything you do makes you think of him. Reflexively, despairingly, hopefully. He invades your train of thought more often than not. Even then, you find yourself forgetting the details of his face. You recall his moles, but not the arches and swells of the skin around it. You know his hair tickled your forehead when you kissed, but you can’t quite place how it sat on his head.

As the days pass, and your strokes flow beyond the acknowledgements and contents pages, your lover grows blurred in your memories.

It’s that realisation that makes the final days more difficult to bear.

Jin comes late after nine months, and when he does, he’s unable to stay.

The missed expectation knocks you out of your expectation and routine, and in his absence you feel more hollow than usual.

The air is still nippy, and you find yourself aching in wait of spring. When you aren’t out feeding Lily and the farm animals, you’re in Taehyung’s bed, wishing his sheets still smelt like him.

You can’t focus on his books, though there is only a shelf and a half remaining for you to read. You drag the record player heavily down the hallway so that you can listen while curled up underneath the blankets, eyes squeezed shut tight and picturing him playing for you.

You write your tallies of the days in the margins of the first chapter now, avoiding the text.

One day it occurs to you that Taehyung might return upset at you for ruining his favourite novel, and the thought sends you into a depressive, guilt-ridden episode that leaves you crying and restless for days.

You count the tally obsessively. 348, 349, 350 strokes.

It’s when you hit the final week that a frantic panic overcomes you. The villa is a mess and the gardens aren’t well tended. They can’t return to dirty, untidy place.

It takes you three days just to clean everything up and return your belongings back to your own room.

353.

You track down a recipe book among Taehyung’s books, and use up some of the dregs of the flour and sugar to bake some muffins. You try one, but save the rest for them to return.

354.

It occurs to you that you’re not sure whether they’ll come on their boat or meet up with Jin first. You wish there was a way to ask, but of course, you’re stuck here not knowing.

Perhaps they’ll come early and surprise you.

355.

You recount the strokes at random points during the day. Despite counting down for several days now, you find yourself suddenly attacked by onsets of panic and anxiety, as if you might be far off and they’re still 100 days away.

356.

You can’t sleep. Instead, you take Lily down to the front beach and wait on the docks. Even Lily is filled with anxious energy, like she is anticipating his return.

The hours drag by slower than they ever have. You come inside in the late afternoon to boil some water for tea.

The sun sinks below the horizon, with no ships on it. Just in case, you do a lap of the island. It takes a while with how carefully you look. Lily loses interest and returns, but you do a second sweep just to be sure.

357.

In the early hours of the morning, you run down to check the coast again. The whole island is quiet; even the seabirds haven’t come to scout the bay.

When you return alone to the house, you hesitate on writing another dash in the book. Surely today.

Just to be safe, you flick to the back and draw a single, short dash, beginning a new year. The thought of them being late, or worse, dead, fills your mind, and you distract yourself by anxiously cleaning the spare bedrooms.

When you grow tired, feet sore and back aching, you take the book and sneak back into Taehyung’s room, curling up on his bed. You flip through the pages aimlessly, wondering if you should start reading it again, when you remember the twist at the end.

Passepartout and Fogg get delayed, and fear they’ve lost their bet of returning in 80 days. They return in 81 days, ready to accept defeat, when they realise that due to their lap around the world, they had actually gained a day in timezone changes. They’d passed their bet after all, with only 80 days in London passing.

You rack your brain trying to work out if that would’ve affected Taehyung and Jungkook going the opposite direction. Did they think it had only been 365 days? You struggle to find an answer, but your brain feels slow from lack of real use in the past year.

You grab a pillow and hug it against your chest, picturing Taehyung and Jungkook as the main characters. Perhaps Taehyung was like the stern Fogg, filled with the societal standards of the 1800s, while Jungkook, the loyal Passepartout, arranged the travel and took care of his master.

If Taehyung has blurred slightly in your mind over time, Jungkook is a silhouette, and you frown a little at how little detail your mind can supply. He had a kind smile, and beautiful eyes, you recall. Outside of that, all you have are vague reconstructed snippets.

Not wanting to wallow any more in your own misery than you are, you put the book and the pillow down and open the doors to the balcony, leaning on the rail and enjoying the fresh ocean air.

One thing that never fails to lift your spirits, even minutely, is the salty breeze and the open paradise in front of you.

A long, white path cuts through beautiful flowers, now growing more wildly than before. They merge into sand dunes on either side of a wide dock.

The beach behind the villa is nicer, has the shelter from the hilly range and a few coves where starfish and hermit crabs linger, but you always secretly preferred this one.

It’s all sand, pillowed and pale golden. It curves around like a fortune cookie, tucking the dock in securely.

While the back beach’s waters are shallow and reefy, the banks here dip off dramatically into deep blue waters. You spent many summer days with Taehyung, egging him to jump off the docks into the water, but he always insisted on gracefully wading in, shorts rolled up.

The ocean is calm now, a lazy lull that splices the moonlight into a million different shards along the surface.

It’s only just passed dusk, and the moon is barely above the horizon line.

Now that spring has well and truly come, it’s still light enough to see by, and you enjoy the cooler air as you watch the moon lift bit by bit above the seas.

A dark speck blots out the bottom portion of it.

You squint, rub your eyes, but it doesn’t go away.

The minutes pass in silence, and you swear that as the moon rises, so does this spot grow in size.

A light sprinkling of goosebumps covers your bare arms, but you don’t dare move from the balcony.

It takes a while, enough for the stars to come out in full and light up the beach more, but eventually the dark shape comes close enough that you can make out the silhouette of a large fishing ship headed directly your way.

Your heart races. Your feet won’t move, rooted to the spot. You wait, and you wait, and it feels like you’re reliving your 365 days right then and there, but you wait long enough to see three figures standing at the prow of what you recognise to be Jin’s ship, and the 365 days are but a blink, nothing but a heartbeat.

They’re home.

[yespolkadotkitty]

Kinktober Day 4 - shower/tub sex

I skipped Day 3 - nipple play - because I had a hella busy weekend and bc nipple play isn’t particularly my bag.

May I present a brief break in our regular programming for some light Shang-Chi fluff/angst/smut.

Pairing: Shaun/Shang-Chi x fem! HCP reader

Words: 675 ~ Warnings: angst, swears, very soft sex. No use of y/n.

**

We’re back.

The text from Katy turned your world upside down. You stared at the screen for a moment, willing words to transfer from your brain to the screen, but there were too many. Finally, you typed: Where is he?

You watched the little dots that indicated Katy was typing.

His place.

I’m at mine. So, you know, if you wanted to go over-

Katy had long been at you to confess your feelings to Shaun.

You stuffed your dirty scrubs in the hospital wash bin, thankful that you were just ending a shift, not just starting one. You wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on patients knowing that Shaun was back.

The garbled message from him, punctuated by traffic noise - I have to go away for a while, explain when I’m back - had set you on edge for weeks.

You didn’t know whether you wanted to deck him or kiss him. Maybe both.

On Day 8 of his hiatus, you’d let yourself into his place - you, he and Katy all had keys to each other’s homes - and snuggled into one of his hoodies, falling asleep on the couch.

You took the bus to his place, alighting at the familiar stop and weaving through a farmer’s market. The sun was low in the sky, and the humid air made your nervous sweat more acute.

You knocked his door in a pretence of being polite, when you wanted to hammer it down.

He didn’t answer, so you let yourself in.

As you shut the door, you heard a groan from further in the apartment. You dumped your bag, and spied a trail of clothes on the floor. Your blood heated.

He’s probably in the shower.

I should go.

But you didn’t.

“Shaun?”

No answer.

You stepped into the tiny hall. The bathroom door was ajar, and without thinking, you pushed it open.

Shaun turned, surprise in his brown eyes as he mouthed your name.

“So it’s true,” you accused. “You are back.”

“I’m sorry-”

You barely took in the fact he wore only boxers and holy crap he was built. “You’re sorry? It’s been four weeks! I thought you might have died-”

His mouth settled into a firm line. “Katy was with me-”

And that was a sore point. “I know! You took Katy, but left me behind-”

“-She didn’t give me much of a choice-”

You shoved him, dead centre of his chest. “You could have asked-”

“It was going to be dangerous-”

You opened your mouth to shoot back a reply, but no words came out. Finally, you whispered, “I thought you were dead, Shaun. I thought you were dead, and I’d never get to tell you…”

Realisation dawned on his handsome face as you gazed at each other, and then, then, he pulled you into his arms and you sobbed against his chest. His skin was warm and firm and you cuddled in, crying nonsense words.

“I wanted to tell you,” he murmured into your hair. “But I was supposed to do what - just ask a doctor to leave her patients for fuck knows how long?”

He had a point and you hated that.

“I wish you’d been with us,” he added. “I saw my father. And met my Aunt. And Katy’s a crack archer now.”

You jerked your head up. “You - what the hell? Where did you go? What did you do?”

Shaun sighed. “I have a lot to tell you. But right now, in this moment? I’m more interested in hearing what you thought you’d never get to tell me.”

“You really don’t know? You’re an idiot. I let myself in while you were away and slept on your couch.” You poked him in the chest to punctuate each word of the last sentence.

Shaun’s brows winged up. “You-”

“I love you, you absolute-”

You never got to finish because Shaun cupped your face in his hands and kissed you. Whisper-soft at first, and then when you opened for him, the kiss turned hungry. You clutched at his shoulders, then slid your hands into his hair, gasping when he settled his hands under your ass and boosted you up. Your legs came around his waist and - holy shit, he was into this, if the evidence against your belly was any indication.

“I love you, too,” he panted, at length.

You nuzzled his neck, breathing him in. “Ugh, I wish I could wash the hospital off me.”

Shaun nodded to the shower. “Well, I was about to get in there…”

Your pulse rocketed. “Yes.”

This was not how you had pictured your day ending when Katy’s text had come through, but right now, you were elated.

Between kisses, Shaun undressed you hurriedly, and you helped him along, getting a case of the giggles when removing your leggings tickled your thighs. The laughter might have made you feel uncomfortable with another man, but this was Shaun, who sang terrible karaoke and made you ramen on your days off and shared his Pocky with you.

When you were naked, he pulled you close, his dark gaze drinking you in.

“You’re beautiful.”

How you’d dreamed of hearing those words in his deep voice.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” You tugged at the waist of his boxers. “Could use less clothes.”

He grinned, cheeky and confident, and your heart pounded at how handsome he was, and how much you wanted him. “Help yourself.”

You did, and he was long and thick and ready, and you watched him struggle for control as you wrapped your hand around him, kissing the groan off his lips.

“Shower, now.”

He turned the water on and tugged you inside, shutting the glass door, and you were cocooned in his arms under the hot spray. You lifted your face for his kiss and he obliged. Steam fogged up the glass and it was like being in your own private world.

You learned each other’s bodies with tongue and teeth and hands, and he left you breathless, until you could only moan his name, your hands in his hair as he did his best to spell his name on your clit with his talented tongue.

When the orgasm broke over you, he lifted you as your legs shook, braced you against the shower wall, and slid home, and it was all you’d ever wanted. He was all you’d ever wanted.

“Shaun,” you groaned against his neck.

He smiled into your hair. “It’s Shang-Chi.” At your puzzled hmmm, he added, “We have a lot to talk about, but it’s hard to think when you’re naked.”

You pulled him back in for another kiss. “Okay. We’ll think later.”

---

Unbeta’d.

I’m not sure who from my list would want to be tagged in this but I do think @astroboots​ will like it.

[captainsophiestark]

The Best of the Best

Finn x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Star Wars

Day 26 Prompt: "Honestly, why would I care?"

Summary: Finn's not the first member of the First Order to defect, although he is the first Storm Trooper. An unexpected happy reunion comes when he first lands on a Resistance base.

Word Count: 1,475

Category: Fluff, maybe a tiny bit of angst?

A/N: Disclaimer, I have not seen the Force Awakens in literal years

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"The Millennium Falcon just landed outside!"

"General Solo is on it, from the Rebellion!"

"It's got an ex-Storm Trooper on it!"

The shouts of my fellow Resistance members echoed around me as they shouted and gossiped about the recent touchdown of a ship. I wove my way through the crowd, keeping one hand on my blaster. I needed to be ready.

A few years ago, I'd been part of the First Order. More than that, I'd been responsible for training the Storm Troopers we took from birth, helping indoctrinate them into the system. I'd been younger or the same age as most of them, and watching them go off to die in a pointless war had jump started my realization that we were the bad guys.

Once the realization had fully settled in, I'd up and left without looking back. I found the Resistance through my now best friend Poe Dameron, and I'd had a lot of valuable information to share with them. I'd been here for almost four years now, and not once had I seen a Storm Trooper defect. So, when I heard everyone whispering in the hallways about one stepping on base, I went into immediate red alert.

I made it out to the tarmac and immediately I noticed the Falcon. The ship was impossible to miss. I quickly scanned the crowd between me and the ship, and my best friend's signature jacket jumped out at me amidst everything else. But Poe had lost that jacket on Jakku in the process of his escape from the First Order.

The guy with Poe's jacket had his back to me, but as I approached, he turned around. I froze in my tracks, my mouth dropping open a little.

FN-2187 stared back at me. I barely remembered most of the people who'd come through the ranks of the First Order under my training. They all blurred together, and the guilt over everything I'd done to uphold the dictatorship was too much for me to look back on all I'd done with any kind of regularity. But I knew the man standing a few yards from me, beyond a shadow of a doubt. I'd know him anywhere.

He was one of the first people I'd been completely responsible for training without supervision, when I was around the same age as the classes I trained. He'd been the first one I'd ever felt a connection with, the first one I'd ever let myself get close to. We'd been friendly, we'd been supportive and understanding of each others' mistakes despite the First Order trying to make us be anything but. Before Poe, he'd been the closest I'd ever come to a best friend.

Unfortunately for both of us, the First Order had noticed how close we'd been getting. We'd been ripped apart immediately, and I learned quickly not to get attached to any more of my trainees. I'd never seen my friend again.

Until now. Now, we were face to face again, on a Resistance base free from the reach of the First Order. The side of my mouth quirked up in a small smile, he beamed back at me, and that was all it took to have me running across the tarmac to him.

I jumped up and wrapped him in a tackle-hug, which he quickly returned. He wrapped his arms around me tight and spun me around, then buried his face in my neck as we came to a stop. I squeezed him tight, not wanting to let go lest this all turn out to be a dream. From the way he held me, I could tell he felt the same.

"Is this real?" he breathed. I huffed a hysterical laugh, a few tears sliding down my face.

"I sure hope so."

If both of us had had our way, I don't think either of us would've moved again for at least a few hours. But a certain pilot popped into my line of sight, a confused look on his face.

"Do you and Finn... know each other?"

"Finn!" I said, breathlessly happy as I pulled back to smile at the former Storm Trooper. "That's a great name."

"I think so too," he said, matching my smile. "Poe gave it to me."

I looked at Poe. He still seemed a little confused, but he had a proud look on his face all the same.

"You're really the top recruiter of defectors, aren't you?" I mused. He shot me a wink.

"Don't you forget it. Now come on, we have a fascist dictatorship to take down."

Finn and I shared a smile as Poe headed off into the crowd of the base. I sighed.

"We probably should follow him, huh?"

"I guess so. How long have you been here, though?"

"A few years," I replied. Finn looked shocked, so I continued. "I... couldn't stand watching the people I'd trained go off and die, killing a bunch of people in the process."

Finn nodded, sagging a little, shoulders slumping as he looked away for the first time since we'd found each other. I nudged him with my arm, suddenly insanely worried about him.

"Hey. What's wrong?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light. He huffed a humorless laugh and shook his head.

"It's nothing. It's just... I can't believe you've been here for so long. It took you a lot less time to realize how wrong we were than it took me."

My eyes went wide, shock nearly rocking me off my feet at his revelation. I quickly grabbed his shoulders and turned him to face me.

"Finn! Are you kidding me? I understand the guilt over our past, seriously, I do. But the fact that it took you a little longer than it took me means nothing. You were literally brainwashed from birth, something I was a part of! I didn't have that excuse, and I still served them for years."

Finn didn't look totally convinced, although his posture wasn't quite as slumped as before. I continued.

"Finn, I spent years convincing myself not to leave. I convinced myself not to care. Honestly, why would I care? It was all part of a righteous cause, canon fodder being expended killing bad guys trying to take down the government." I shook my head at myself in disgust. The fact that I'd ever believed that nonsense, that damaging propaganda, would haunt me for the rest of my life. Finn let his hand rest on my waist, giving it a gentle squeeze to comfort me, and I took a deep breath before continuing. "The realization that I was on the wrong side started long before I left, and I'll always regret the extra damage I did to the galaxy before listening to what I knew was right.

"But Finn, I went through all that as someone who grew up with a family, in school, with some varied viewpoints, although not many. You were told from birth that the First Order's morals, politics, and methods of enforcement were the one and only right way from almost the day you were born. And still you came to your own, different conclusion and left those sons of bitches behind, because you are that good of a person, Finn. That's... amazing."

I'd caught myself rambling, saying more than I'd maybe initially intended to, but I couldn't bring myself to regret it. I loved Finn, and the last thing I wanted was for him to put himself through any more pain than he'd already survived.

Finn laughed, a disbelieving sound, and the smile he gave me felt as bright and warm as the sun. I wasn't sure what I expected him to say, but I got a pleasant surprise when he finally did speak up.

"...Can I kiss you?"

"Hell yes."

We shared a beaming, happy smile, our first free smile, and then Finn leaned down and kissed me. He wrapped his arms around my waist again, pulling me to him as I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing in the middle of the runway without a care in the world who saw us. It didn't matter who saw us now. No one here would exploit us, or use one of us to hurt the other. We were free, together.

"Hey! I'm happy to see my two best friends making out and all, but we actually have things to do today, remember?"

Finn and I broke apart reluctantly, still smiling even as we turned to Poe, the interruption. He was right, unfortunately. In order to take the First Order down for good, to free the rest of the galaxy, we had a lot of work to do. But it didn't seem quite as daunting now that I had Finn.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

[babyboibucky]

Undeserving (Deserve Better Part 2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You confront Bucky about his decision to abandon you.

Word Count: 2,868

Warnings: More angst lmao I’m sorry for this

A/N: Honestly struggled with this because 1) I couldn’t decide on how to end it and 2) I was pressured from the feedback I got from Deserve Better. I’m not entirely happy with how this came out and initially, I planned on doing an epilogue for those who’d prefer a different ending but decided against it. Anyway, if you guys have more questions about this, send me an ask! I’d love to discuss more about this lol luv u all as always. Feedbacks are highly appreciated and I hope this was good enough for y’all who enjoyed Deserve Better xoxo

Deserve Better || Undeserving || Deserve The Best

MAIN MASTERLIST

-

You chose to stay.

Despite seeing the love of your life— whom you had waited for years— in the arms of another, you stayed at the gala. It was after all, to honor Steve’s legacy and you respected him enough not to walk away and miss out on the speeches given by people dearest to him, Bucky included of course.

You weren’t sure if he had seen you and the way your eyes brimmed with tears when everything finally made sense to you. He wasn’t far from you when you stopped in your tracks, mouth parting as a soft whimper escaped past your lips.

You had never imagined that heartbreak could be so physically painful. And it wasn’t the regular pain you’d feel after an intense workout or when you scraped your knee. The hurt was different, like your heart was being tightly squeezed into someone else’s palm. It was choking you, constricting you of oxygen as if you were drowning. No matter how much you tried to reach the surface, the pain just kept on pulling you down until there was nothing but darkness and well, pain.

Once the program was over and all the guests were left to mingle, you carefully slipped out of the crowd. Mindlessly, you walked and walked and walked until your feet began to hurt from the heels you were wearing. When the cold and crisp air of the evening embraced you, it was then that you realized that you reached the compound’s garden, just behind the main hall where the gala was happening.

The quiet gave you time to think and process everything that had happened. Bucky left to find himself and to become better, that he did. And you waited only to discover that he’d been back for quite a while now but chose to be with another.

As you looked out in front of you, your vision turned blurry as a new wave of tears escaped your eyes. Your grief had resurfaced after repressing it for so, so long. Grief from Bucky’s goodbye, from his absence and from waiting, grief from seeing him with someone else; no matter the cause, all in all it was grief nonetheless.

Bucky’s soft voice calling your name echoed in the evening air, it was so soft that you almost thought that you were hallucinating. But then he’d called you again, using the pet name that used to make your stomach flip and your heart to flutter. It still had the same effect now, you realized, only that it came along with an immense amount of pain that made your blood boil.

Hearing Bucky call you that, it almost felt like poison. It was quiet, gentle even but it left a bitter taste in your mouth as you felt its venom run through your veins until you could no longer feel anything but pain.

“Doll—“

“Don’t.” you seethed and turned around, pointing a shaky finger right at Bucky. “Don’t call me that when you’re with someone else, James.”

Bucky flinched at the way you had addressed him. You saw how his face faltered upon seeing you like this. His vibranium arm was restless against his side, as if he wanted to reach out to you but knew better than to do so.

“I waited for you!” you spat.

If he found somebody else to become better for, he could at least let you know. But he didn’t and you needed to know why he chose to abandon you. You needed it so badly, for your own peace of mind. For closure. You deserved that, at least.

“I’m sorry, I—“

“No, you don’t get to say your side until I’m done with mine!” you insisted. “I have every right to be selfish right now. I can choose to lash out on you or refuse to even listen to whatever your reason is for abandoning me no matter how valid it is. I fucking deserve that, Bucky.”

Bucky closed his mouth and nodded; you hated how he was staring at you as if he just lost his moonlight, as if he still loved you. If he did, you wouldn’t be confronting him like this and you wouldn’t have seen him with someone else.

“When Steve told me that you disappeared, when it felt like there was no way to bring everyone back, I waited. It didn’t feel right for me to move on from you just like that and deep inside I knew that you were going to return. Five years, Buck. I waited five years for nothing.” you said quietly, recalling how devastating those five years were.

You didn’t know what would happen then, nobody knew. Would they still come back? The chances were slim and yet you trusted your gut and decided to remain hopeful. It wasn’t easy to wait for something or someone that may never come back. But you still did and it never even crossed your mind that you may just be wasting your time.

You let out a breathy chuckle, “And then you came back and I felt alive again. But then you said goodbye.” you pursed your lips in an attempt to hold back your tears but to no avail.

It took you a while to collect yourself and Bucky let you, until you spoke again and told him how much it destroyed you when he walked away from you.

“Everyone else told me that I shouldn’t wait. Not again after those five years. But it felt easier this time around because you told me you wanted to get better. For me. And I was excited, Bucky.” you told him with a chuckle. “I was excited to see your return. I looked forward to how we’d spend our time together when you come back, if you’d cut your hair. If you’d wear the same cologne that I loved.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you recalled those times you daydreamed about Bucky’s return. The wait was agonizing but it gave you something to look forward to. At least you weren’t waiting for nothing anymore. Bucky was leaving but only temporarily, you were sure he’d come back. But the smile vanished as soon as it appeared and before you knew it, you were sobbing again.

“And now you’re back and so much better. But you aren’t mine anymore.”

At this point, your grief had consumed you both physically and mentally. You knees wobbled but you didn’t hit the ground, no. Instead, there was warmth against your skin followed by the smell of a certain cologne, enveloping the air around you. Bucky caught you in his arms and he held you tight as you cried into him.

“Shh, doll. I’m here now.” he whispered before pressing a kiss onto your crown.

As much as it felt right to be in Bucky’s embrace, it wasn’t enough to overcome the betrayal he did. You groaned in frustration and pushed him away, stepping back and hugging yourself instead.

“Why?” you asked quietly.

“I need to know why and how we came to this.” you asked, almost begged for Bucky to give you the closure you badly needed.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair as he paced before you, his cheeks stained with his own tears. “I came back for you.” he said.

You frowned, “When?”

“I couldn’t wait to see you again and as soon as I got back, I went straight to your office. But then you weren’t working there anymore, I found out that you finally landed your dream job at the law firm.” he said with a small smile. “I was so proud when I heard that. I was supposed to go to your apartment but something came up and I needed to meet with Sam first. Weekend came and I was on my way to your place when I saw you. And you were with someone else and you looked....happier, the happiest I’d seen you.”

Something clicked and you quickly shook your head, “Andy. No, he’s not...we were never together. This is a misunderstanding, Bucky. He and I were never—“

“I know.” Bucky admitted.

“What?” You asked, voice soft from utter confusion.

“You looked happy with him, not because of him. I know you weren’t in love with him because if you were, you would have looked at him the same way you’re looking at me now.” He explained sadly.

Hearing Bucky’s explanation made you angrier. If he knew that, then why did he still leave? What reason could be bigger than that to make Bucky wake up one day and decide that he no longer wants to come back to you?

If he knew you loved him so much to actually wait, why did he leave you like that?

Your brows creased, “If that’s not the reason, then what?”

Bucky shrugged, “I realized that you didn’t deserve me. I left to better myself for you, god I really did. But when I saw you and how you managed to be successful without me by your side, I figured that you were better off without me. I thought I got better, but seeing you again looking so beautiful, happy and just...maybe I’ll never be the right one for you.”

You bitterly chuckled at Bucky’s revelation, “This doesn’t make any sense to me, Bucky. You chose to abandon me because you thought I was happier without you?”

You felt offended that Bucky even thought of that. Did he not trust you when you told him you’d wait for him? He didn’t even show up to tell you that, to give you the chance to reassure him how much you love him. He just decided that it was better for him to leave you hanging?

“That’s bullshit, Bucky.” you spat. “You left me hanging because you thought you were weighing me down and the next time I see you, you’re with Sharon now. Who by the way, used to date your best friend. I don’t understand any of this.” you told him.

Bucky looked at the ground as he evened out his breathing. There were a few seconds of silence between the two of you. Only heavy breaths and the distant sound of the music from the gala lingered in the air. It was almost comforting. Almost.

“Sharon and I...it wasn’t easy for us when Steve left. It was something that we both had in common. We wanted to fix ourselves and in the process we just...it happened. I didn’t mean for it but it just happened.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

The pain was replaced with grief and then anger. A little sympathy was thrown in the mix too upon hearing Bucky’s reason but now you were back to square one. Pain.

“You worried for her when Steve left but didn’t worry about me when you chose to leave me hanging? You told me you needed to fix yourself alone because you didn’t want to hurt me in the process of doing so. Guess what, Bucky? You hurt me all the same. Even more so when you chose to stay for Sharon and when you allowed her to help you fix yourself.”

Bucky remained silent as he simply gazed at you and let you say your piece. You just couldn’t understand where he truly was coming from. You knew about his insecurities and you accepted each one of them. You’d wholeheartedly accepted Bucky from the moment you knew you loved him, that included his flaws and demons, even on days he hated himself.

“Don’t shut me out like that again, please?” You asked Bucky, when he finally let you inside his room after isolating himself for days.

He had those days, when he couldn’t bring himself to come out and just...live. He’d push people away and torture himself with negative thoughts. But you always stayed no matter what.

“‘m sorry doll, I just...sometimes...I love you so much but sometimes I feel like I don’t have enough of it to actually show you. And you don’t deserve that.” He explained.

You smiled and cupped his cheek, “That’s okay, Bucky. I love you and the amount of love I have for you is more than enough for both of us.”

Was your love not enough for him all along? For him not to consider how you would feel if he just decided not to come home to you anymore? You shouldn’t be blaming yourself for everything, you did your part. But you couldn’t help but wonder whether it was because of you that Bucky chose to walk away.

“I love you, I really do. And you deserve the best and I’m not...that. I chose to let you go so you can have that.”

“I don’t need the best version of you, Bucky!” You quickly cut him off. “I just need you.” You added.

When Bucky decided to leave to get better, you let him even though you hated to see him walk away. You’d be selfish not to, especially when Bucky was finally free to decide things for himself. It was for the best, but honestly speaking, you didn’t want a better version of him.

Whether it was the Winter Soldier or James Buchanan Barnes, whatever version of him he’d give to you, you love Bucky all the same.

You love Bucky so much that it was so painful for you to hear that he actually thought you’d be happier without him.

“You don’t deserve someone as damaged as me. Even if I got better, I’m still struggling and I don’t want to make things hard for you.” Bucky said.

“And you don’t get to decide what you think I deserve! You don’t get to abandon me like I was nothing, like we were nothing to you.” You seethed.

Bucky looked away, blinking his tears away as he tried to compose himself. His jaw tensed as he looked at you with an apologetic gaze.

“You shouldn’t have waited for me. You didn’t have to.” He said the same thing to you when he left, and it hurt just as much.

“I love you. I’ll wait, Bucky.” You murmured and tugged at his hand before he could even let you go.

Bucky smiled sadly at you, “You don’t have to, doll.”

You shook your head and brought Bucky’s hand to your lips as you cried, “I want to. And I will.”

“I know. But in all those years you were gone, I woke up each day and chose to wait for you. I always chose you, Bucky.” You said with a sad smile.

You stumbled a bit and lifted your dress enough to reveal your bleeding foot. You’d walked that long, for your feet to get wounded and ironically, you couldn’t feel anything but the pain of seeing Bucky again. He tried to approach you and help you out but you waved a hand and kept him at an arm’s length away from you. You removed your shoes and straightened up, looking at Bucky and his ocean blue eyes for one last time.

“I’m sorry if you felt like you weren’t enough. You’re more than enough for me, Bucky. I really thought that I could love and fight for the both of us, but I guess not.”

Bucky didn’t say anything else, and you hoped he would. It might have been pathetic of you to wish that he’d come back to you, but you really hoped he would say something to fight for you. He didn’t and that was enough for you to make a decision.

“Goodbye, Bucky.”

You bit your lower lip as you turned around, holding back your tears as you jogged back into the gala. You walked past everyone in the crowd in a hurry, wanting to head home as quickly as possible. And then you came face to face with someone you weren’t prepared to confront.

It’s as if time stopped when you saw her, Sharon. She must have found out about your presence. Did she know of Bucky’s decision to abandon you? You wondered how she helped Bucky better himself, why he let her stay as he fixed himself.

Why Bucky chose to be with her instead of coming home to you.

You could feel your chest constrict again, the pain continuing to consume you whole. If you stayed any longer, you were afraid you might break.

“Do you love him?” You asked her softly.

Without missing a beat, Sharon nodded her head. “I do.” She whispered.

“How much?” You asked again.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.” Sharon responded and you could feel the sincerity in her statement.

The way she said it wasn’t meant to hurt you nor mock you. It was reassuring, in fact. Like she was making you a promise that she was going to take good care of Bucky the same way you did. Maybe even more. You swallowed as you nodded, forcing a small smile before looking away to wipe a tear that slipped.

“That’s good.” You simply said. “Because I’d do anything for him too.”

Anything. Even if that meant walking away and giving up on a battle that you’d already lost the moment Bucky decided to abandon you.

-

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar  @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @i’m-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @tcc-gizmachine @prettyintopeerpressure​ @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit​ @bloodhon3yx​ @dressed-in-prada​ @lizette50​ @​thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2 @unmagically @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi 

Deserve Better Special Tags:

@nervous-plant @wintersfilm 

[kaminocasey]

Do You Hear the People Sing Part 5

Summary: Fox tries to come to your rescue. Nell isn't who you think she is. Pairing: Commander Fox/F!Reader Warnings: Violence, explosions, angst WC: 2.2K A/N: BACK TO OUR REGULAR PROGRAMMING! Thanks for bearing with me as I finished up all those requests. I'm excited for you guys to read what happens in this fic next! <3

Last | Next

“Hello, cyare.” Fox attempts a smile.

“Fox… What are you doing here?” You ask him, trying not to glance at Nell who’s standing on the other side of the door toward your hall closet, with her blaster trained on you.

Gripping your elbows tightly when you cross them, you try to keep your shaking hidden so Fox doesn’t notice and try to come in. Your heart clenches at the sight of him, though. It feels as if the universe is playing some sick game on you.

“I needed to see you… to explain.” He looks like he wants to reach out toward you.

“This… this isn’t a good time, Fox. I’m sorry.” You start to push the button to close the door but he reaches out toward you and you push his hand away as Nell starts to step toward you. “Go away.”

“What? After you come into my office today, you suddenly don’t want to speak to me?” He looks desperate to understand.

You shrug your shoulders. “I heard a woman’s voice and panicked… but I realize now how dumb I was and I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

“You won’t even let me explain?” He searches your eyes.

“There’s nothing to explain. I understand you’ve moved on. I- I have too.” You lie.

“You have?” He murmurs.

You nod your head, just praying to the maker that he doesn’t see through your lie. He looks away for a second and you take that time to glance at Nell. She motions for you to get rid of him.

“I’ve got to go.” You slam the close button before he can say anything else, and the door slides shut.

Staring at the door a moment before acknowledging Nell, you attempt to gather your thoughts and then turn toward her.

“What’s the plan here, Nell? You gonna shoot me?” You ask her.

She raises the blaster toward your face. “This obviously wasn’t planned at all. I don’t want to shoot you.”

Think… Think… Fox used to tell you that if you ever found yourself in trouble, you should try to buy yourself more time. You look at Nell’s cup of tea on the counter.

“Listen… There's no reason that this needs to end badly, Nell. I understand why you did what you did. I do.” You start to subtly search with your eyes for your comm.

Where did you put it?

“We needed the Senate’s attention. You figured out how to get it. Do I agree with you? No. I’m sorry. I wish I did. If we use violence like that, we’re no better than the Republic using the clones as weapons.”

There it is. You see it across the room on the end table by the couch. Trying to keep Nell calm, you hand her the cup of tea and she reluctantly takes it as you lead her to the couch to sit.

You keep talking as you walk behind her, around the couch, stepping in front of the comm so that she doesn’t see it, and silently comm Fox, muting it so you can’t hear him, but he can hear you.

“Listen… Nell… You’re one of the best friends that I have… that bomb that you set off at the protest that day got everyone’s attention.” Fox listens to your voice, confused. “It got the Senate’s attention, it got the Jedi’s attention… It even got Palpatine’s attention. You should be proud of yourself.”

Nell… Your partner with the Clones Rights group… That explains why you were acting strange.

“Kriff… Kriff kriff kriff…” Fox rushes, hanging up to comm his brothers and General Skywalker.

He just hopes they’re not too late.

Nell listens to you as you continue to lie and feed her ego, just trying to keep her calm, buying yourself time until you can come up with a better plan or Fox shows up with backup. She seems to be calming down. She’s still holding the blaster as she sips the tea out of that silly fox mug that you got for Fox. You’re sort of glad that you didn’t throw it out or give it to Fox when he came for his stuff all those months ago. It’ll be a nice last reminder of him in case Nell does decide to shoot you.

Fox is standing outside of your apartment building when Thorn, Thire, Hound, and Stone show up with Anakin Skywalker and Ahsoka Tano.

“What’s the situation, Commander?” Anakin asks, looking up at the building.

Fox explains what he heard through the comm, about Nell and the bomb. He tries to keep the panic out of his voice so that the general doesn’t have anything to use against him if he suspects Fox’s involvement with you.

“And just how does this girl have your comm channel, Commander?” Anakin asks Fox with a quirked eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Uh. Well, you see, sir… She kept getting arrested and I was tired of… doing paperwork so I told her if she needed help…” Fox starts rambling, clearly terrible at trying to lie.

He doesn’t even have to look at his brothers to know they’re definitely going to give him shit at some point after this is all over. They all look pretty serious currently, staring up at the building and then waiting for General Skywalker’s command. He forgot how much they cared for you. Thorn is your best friend. He should thank Thorn later for taking care of you while he was being stupid the last six months…

All this time… wasted… time he could have spent protecting you from this sort of thing happening. He owes you the biggest apology of a lifetime. He just hopes he gets the chance to apologize.

“Ahsoka and I will rush the bomber. Commander Fox- you and your men just make sure that your riduur gets out safe.” Skywalker winks at Fox. “I assume you know which apartment is hers?”

Fox doesn’t have time to play stupid, because he nods and follows General Skywalker’s lead up the stairs to your apartment, leading him to your door.

“You’re lucky you fell out of love with Fox when you did.” Nell tells you.

“I never stopped loving him.” You correct her.

She stares at you for a moment, a little shocked that you corrected a person holding a blaster toward you. You shrug. There’s no point in denying it. You love Fox more than anything in the entire galaxy. Broken up or not broken up, nothing would change that.

“I don’t think it’s possible for me to stop loving him.” You tell her, tears suddenly springing to your eyes.

All these months, wasted, when you could have been together. And now… death is staring you in the face and you didn’t even get to tell him you loved him one last time. Maker, how stupid you’ve been. If perhaps you’d just listened to Fox when he begged you to stop all of this… you wouldn’t be in this situation.

“What Fox and I had… was beautiful… Maybe we’ll be lucky to find each other again in another life.” You look at Nell, fully, in the face. “One where maybe he’s free from the Republic and I’m not stupid and I listen to him the first time.”

Nell puts the tea cup down on your caf table and then stares at you for a long moment. She seems like she wants to reach out toward you, but you just stare right back. She’s going to do what she wants to do.

She stands up. “I’m going to leave Coruscant… start over… your speech about another life has me thinking… maybe there’s more to life out there in the galaxy.” She tucks the blaster back in her pants and you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding. “If you don’t come looking for me… maybe we can let this all go?”

You nod and then she nods, heading for the door, which all of a sudden opens forcefully that only a Jedi could have done. You and Nell both glance at the door in time to see Anakin Skywalker and Ahsoka Tano rush in, pushing Nell to the ground.

She stares at you, wide eyed and shocked. “You tricked me.”

“I’m sorry.” You murmur.

Fox rushes in immediately, toward you and you let out a soft whimper as he pulls you into his arms, not even caring that a Jedi general of the clone army is in the same room.

“I’m so sorry-” You both rush out.

“No, cyare… I’m so sorry… I should have been here to protect you.” He cups your face so that he can look you in the eyes.

“You’re going to regret this.” Nell glares at you.

“That’s enough.” General Skywalker warns her, his voice going dark.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think Skywalker had a little dark side to him. You don’t have time to dwell on it because Fox pulls your face toward his so you don’t have to watch them take Nell away.

Fox’s fingers caress your cheeks and you can’t stop staring up into those familiar brown eyes that you missed more than anything.

“We’ll just go then…” Thire starts to push the other guards out.

Thorn takes off his helmet and pats you on the back. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“Me too.” You breathe. “Thanks for being there for me.”

“Anytime.” He smiles.

Thorn then pats Fox on the back with a nod. “See you later, vod.”

Fox nods back before Thorn leaves your apartment. When the door shuts, you look up at Fox again, just glad that you get to be near him again.

“I love you, you know. I never stopped.” You tell him.

“Neither did I.” He promises you, pulling you into his arms.

“But, that senator…” You murmur, running your hands up the cool plastoid.

“Just a friend who hates Palpatine as much as we do.” He smiles, softly.

You nod, trusting him. He rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, breathing you in.

“I missed you so much.” Your voice breaks and he crushes his lips to yours.

Finally.

You run your hands up the plastoid armor until you reach his curls, curling your fingers through them. He sighs into the kiss, his lips slightly trembling like he may cry. Pulling away only slightly, to make sure he’s alright, he’s looking down at you sadly, tears in his eyes.

“What is it?” You whisper.

“I’m just so angry with myself…” He whispers back. “I should have been here… I could have stopped it…”

“Fox… let’s not do this right now.” You murmur. “Let’s just be here. We’re both okay. We’ve been apart long enough… I promise you, this wasn’t your fault. Let’s just be together and then we can figure out the rest, alright?”

“You’re right…” He nods, smiling down at you, starting to lean in to kiss you again.

A knock on the door tears you apart again. With a groan, you pull away.

“Don’t go anywhere.” You smile at Fox.

“Never again.” He promises you.

Dragging yourself away from Fox, you answer the door, finding a panting Thorn and Stone, trying to catch their breath. Stomach in knots, you quickly glance over to Fox.

“What is it?” Fox is instantly at your side.

Thorn and Stone glance at each other, clearly not wanting to be the one to deliver what is obviously not good news.

“I’d rather not ask again.” Fox steps in front of you, protectively.

“Nell escaped…” Thorn’s eyes shoot to you.

“How is that possible? General Skywalker and Commander Tano had her.” Fox asks them.

“She was with a Sith.” Stone tells Fox.

“A Sith?” You ask, confused and Stone and Thorn nod.

It’s becoming more and more clear that you truly did not know Nell at all. Your friend turned out to be a terrorist and now, a Sith sympathizer? You think back to her threat before Skywalker took her away.

You’re going to regret this…

Her words ring loudly in your head and as if you and Fox never spent all that time apart, Fox reads your face and tucks you into his side.

“You two are to stand outside her door. I want a constant watch right here. No one comes in and no one goes out unless it’s run by me. Is that clear?” Fox switches into his authoritative voice and under normal circumstances, you’d be turned on by it.

Right now, you’re actually a little afraid. You’d heard how awful the Sith were if you stood in their way. With no hesitance, Thorn and Stone nod and Fox gives you a reassuring squeeze before stepping away to speak into his comm.

“Don’t you worry. We deal with this shit all the time.” Stone nods to you, trying to reassure you.

“You know, when we’re not arresting you.” Thorn teases you, trying to lighten the mood, which you appreciate.

You give him a small smile and lean against the armrest of your couch. Fox looks up, startled, all of sudden. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, there’s a loud ‘BOOM’, and you’re thrown against the wall unexpectedly. As you start to lose consciousness, you think you see someone in a speeder outside where your balcony used to be, wielding a red lightsaber.

Then, everything goes dark.

TAGS: @grievouus @brynhildrmimi @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @misogirl828 @rexandechosandwich @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @twistedstitcher27 @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @ttzamara @brieblade @grizzersmamma @urfavwifeyy @tazmbc1 @stardust9905 @justanothersadperson93 @sleepingsun501

[mntalbrakdown]

enough for you

Sebastian stan x actress! reader

based on “enough for you” by Olivia Rodrigo

masterlist!

mentions of: cheating, angst, past relationships

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7|

A/n: sorry I have not posted in a while I was out of state having vacation, but back to regular scheduled programming. also didn't know what else to do with this story because all of the songs are very angsty so, I am so sorry that this turned out the way it did

Sebastian and you were both on the couch watching Black Widow together on Disney plus. It was a hot night in California, your relationship was steady for the past couple months, everything was going swell. Sebastian was slouched on the couch and your head was on his thighs looking at the big screen in your house. You guys haven't moved in together yet, Sebastian wants to really bad, but you have your doubts still about this relationship still. Yiu haven't told him that you just dodge the question of moving in altogether.

Right after the movie, you both made jokes about how your characters are going to end up like Natasha, dead of course, but not the way she died, but nonetheless dead. You ended up crying remembering that scene in Endgame where the Avengers thought the only family Natasha had was the Avengers and today you saw a different side of her life. Sebastian chuckled and grabbed you a box of tissues

Then this led to Sebastian bringing up your relationship before you both broke up.

”I remember you cried like this in the Endgame premiere, even though you were there filming it.“he said chuckling getting up from the couch to clean his cup that held some alchol.

” I wore makeup when we dated because I thought you liked me more, If i looked like the other models that I know you loved before I tried so hard to be everything that you liked just so you could say that you’re not the compliment type“ you dont know why you blurted that out but you did for no good reason, Sebastian looked at you confused from the kitchen. Your eyes grew wider over time knowing what you just did. This is going to be your first big fight, and its going to be your fault. You felt sick, you told the public you were dating again just for you guys to break p again.

“Sorry?” sebastian was so confused you can read his body language

“I read all your favorite books so you would think I was smart” you didnt know why you were continuing this, why you were adding fuel to the fire, but here you were, you couldnt help it, it was like you were under some sort of truth serum.

“What are you talking about?” Sebastian started to grow furious as time went on

“Stupid, emotional, obsessive, little me”

“You are not making sense right now y/n, what is going on?” Sebastian sat next to you on the couch

”I never really told you about how I felt when we started to get together or when we broke up” you say looking and meeting his eyes

”Why are you telling me this now?” he asked, his eyebrows starting to become one

”We were talking about our relationship.. I dont kow I just figured-“

”You figured that this was the perfect time to ruin our relationship now?” Sebastian cut you off, enraged

“I knew from the start this is exactly how you would leave, you would find someone more exciting, the next second you were gone, you left me either crying wodering what I did wrong“

“No I did not-“ Sebastian tried to defend himself

“You fucked someoe else when we were together!” you yelled getting up from the couch becausse this was getting heated “ You say I'm never satisfied, but I dont think thats true because all I ever wanted was to be enough for you“

“Because you never are satisfied!” Sebastian exclamied also getting up from the couch

“Sex wise! yes that's so right! I am sorry your dick hasn't made me orgasm! “

“Thats a lie, you scream my name-“ Sebastian says

”Thats not an orgasm dipshit! I'm also an actor I can fake it”you exclaimed

“maybe I'm jut not as interesing as the girls you have had before , but god you couldn't have cared a less about someone who loves you more!" you shouted

“You didn't love me!” Sebastian yelled back

“yes I did! I was the one who planned the dates out, I made you gifts,I visted you on set all the time, For fucks sakes Sebastian! I said I love you first! you can't tell me I didn't love you, I fucking did, that's why it hurt so much!” god you wish your neighbors can't hear you guys shouting.

“I would say you broke my heart but you broke much more than that, Now I dont wwant yor sympathy, I just want my self back!” you say starting to tear up

“Than why the fuck did you get back with me?“ Sebstian was still yelling.

he stumped you, ypu, youself can't even bring up an excuse. You didn't even know why you got back together again. Yoy were just hurt and missed him ,that's all, he has said 'I love you' plenty of times since your date with your friends, and you have yet to say it back, you don't love him anymore, than why are you with him? you thought you were happy, but apparently that was all an act, from the moment you both broke up till now you always acted as if you were happy.

“dont you think I loved you too much, to be used and discared? Don't you think I loved you too much to think I deserved nothing?” you almost whisperedd it, but Sebastian could hear it and you could tell he was hurt for you. He knew hw fucked up before and promised he would never do it again, but he never knew exactly how hurt you were.

It was like Sebastian’s heart broke into two when you said that and he didn't know what to say anymore. The only word coming out of his mouth was.

”Sorry”

“Dont tell me you are sorry boy, feel dorry for youself beacuse someday I'lll be everything for somebody else, they'll think that I'm so exciting and you will be the one who's crying.“ you didnt know why you were still saying this still if he apologized and you could tell he was sorry. The only explanation was that you had to get this off your chest once and for all. You didnt mean your previous statement, but you couldn't help it. Seastian also knew you didnt mean it.

“yeah you say I'm never satisfied, but I donr think that's true, that's not me it's you! All cause all I ever wanted was to be enough But I don't think anything could ever be enough!” yoy were full on sobbing because you missed the old you, the one who was happy with her significant other and never worried they would cheat. It wasn't about Sebastian, yes he played a part of some of it, but you were the one crying because you miss your old happy self. Sebastian took your body and hugged you, whiping the tears from your face and trying to comfort you, because at the end of the day, you always like to be hugged it made you happy.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

I believe in you; Clint Barton x reader

*Author’s note*

Well this was another request kept in the works and depending if I’m too late or not for my lovely bilingual anon you might already have started your nursing school (which congrats btw hopefully everything worked out) so this little drabble of sorts is dedicated to them and to anyone else that’s starting college (or a new grade in general).

Not really any warnings maybe a swear word or two and some fluff/maybe angst. But mainly I just did some basic research on how medical school/nursing programs work so if I’m wrong and there’s something I missed, any nursing/medical grads out there PLEASE let me know so that I can go back and fix it. I didn’t put too much detail just skimmed over the process but I hope it was the right way I did it. 

Anyways enjoy my lovely readers and until next time.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@queen-paladin​

@queensdivas​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@byersboys​

@austynparksandpizza​

____________________________________________________________

You know the one thing they never tell you when you’re applying to college, how to maintain the stress levels of what’s to come with leaving childhood behind and fully becoming an adult.

While I am excited, don’t get me wrong, I’ve always wanted to be a nurse ever since I begged my mom for my first Baby Alive doll. Taking care of her, changing her diaper, feeding her, all that stuff.  Then came the day when Cooper Barton was born.  Yep that Cooper, along with Lila and Nathaniel.  Since our moms have been friends since they were in college, it was only a matter of time before I became friends with the Barton kids, especially since I was considered the ‘other Big sister’.

That also meant I had known Clint Barton long before he was famous for being apart of the Avengers team.  But ever since bringing everyone back from the Blip and the world trying to return to normal, he’s happily retired and staying with the family that he lost for 5 years (while also raising me since I had lost my parents in the Blip).

But back to what I was saying, applying for nursing school isn’t like applying for your regular old college.  Not only do you need to go to regular college and get some credits as well as take the necessary tests, you have to volunteer as nursing homes, you have to go to an interview with the school, and the most tedious thing of all—waiting.

The waiting portion is what really had me on edge, especially since the school was trying to re-instate students and staff that had been Blipped, look at new applications, it was a mess but I’ll spare the long waiting story and just say that after awhile of not hearing anything, I finally heard back from them and found out that I had been accepted into the Nursing school of my dreams.

Like I said, while I am excited I’m also quite nervous about it as well.  Cause not only is it the most prestige nursing school in the country, it’s also out of state in Durham, North Carolina.  And moving to a whole new state is a scary thing in itself, nobody will know me there and I’ll know no one there, I’ll be alone in school as I’m working towards my nursing degree.

I was sitting on top of the treehouse that uncle Clint had built for me and Lila when we were little.  It was at the peak of sunset and everyone was inside the house still celebrating my acceptance into college.  Mom and dad spent all morning setting up for the Barton’s to come over for the party and since 2pm the two families have been barbequing, watching a football game, and just chatting away.

But right now I needed a break from the family so I just came out here to the old tree house (that I hadn’t really been in since I started high school) and a wave of nostalgia came over me.  Seeing the old polaroid pictures I took with my camera of me and Lila, our old drawings we did together, and the famous sign we’d tape to the door.

GIRLS ONLY, NO BOYS ALLOWED

I smile softly and stroked the rainbow letters we both wrote it in as the memories of what Lila and I had in here played in my head.

“Thought you might be up here.” Uncle Clint’s voice spoke up. I jumped and turned to see him holding up the door-floor (that’s what Lila and I used to call it) up.  “God I remember all the times your dad and I caught you and Lila up here. This was practically your first apartment. Minus the pluming and AC unit.” I softly chuckled.

“Been a long time since I saw this place. Wanted to check and see if anything changed with it.”

“Probably not. Once you girls grew up, you didn’t really come up here as much when you were kids. But I still kept up with any repairs that needed to be done, just in case you changed your mind.”

“And I thank you for that. I really needed to come back in here.” I said stroking through some of the old pictures.

“Everything okay?”

“Can I be honest with you uncle Clint?”

“Yeah, yeah absolutely. But first I must ask permission from Princess Mi amore Cadenza of the Crystal Empire to enter hers and Princess Francesca Banana Lobella Lollipop’s castle in the sky.” I chuckled at the silly Princess names Lila and I came up with when we were little.

“I can’t believe you still remember those names.”

“I’m losing my hearing, not my memory.” Clint teased.

“But yes you have permission from Princess Cadence.” I said shortening the nickname of my pretend Princess title.  Uncle Clint climbed up the rest of the way into the tree house and closed the door behind him before taking a seat on one of the old beanbag chairs we had.  “Alright kid, talk. What’s on your mind?”

“First I just wanna say that I’m not complaining about the party. It’s awesome it really is that you and aunt Laura and my parents did this for me. And I am happy to know that I’m gonna be living out my dream of becoming the first Doctor in the family but—it all feels to fast. I mean it feels like yesterday Lila and I were up here talking about her next heist to get the cookies from the top of the fridge, and now all of a sudden it…….”

“Feels like childhood is slipping away.” He finished for me.  “Like you’re entering a bigger world than you first thought it would entail.”

“How did you—”

“Because I was there myself. Once I joined SHIELD and before the Avengers became a thing.”

“Bull.”

“It’s true. The biggest thing before I knew Gods and aliens existed were terrorists and spies. Basic espionage stuff that you see in the movies. When Loki came along the job became—a lot more than what I was used to. So much so that there were times I thought I wasn’t really needed. I’m just a guy with a bow and arrow, that’s all I had to bring to every fight we went to.”

“But you looked pretty cool everytime you did it.” Uncle Clint ruffled my hair.

“Thanks shrimp. Now I know that these are two totally different scenarios but there is some common ground to both our fears. I was needed to be the ‘human aspect’ that the Avengers needed. Someone to help keep them grounded whenever things got too tough on the job. While you, you’ve always had a healing hand.” He took my hand between his and gave it a gentle squeeze in reassurance.  “And the world’s gonna be lucky to have someone who is doing it for the good of the patient, and not for the money. Or the medal of neurosurgeon, whatever the hell it is they call for giving Doctors rewards.”

“And again I am psyched but also a bit scared. Especially since I’ll be in a new state where I don’t know a single person there.”

“What about that friend of yours you made in college uhh—what was her name Robin? What about her?”

“She’s going to the University of Pennsylvania to be closer with her grandparents who need her.” He nodded solemnly.

“Well I still wouldn’t worry. You’ve always been pretty good at making friends. And you know we’re all just a phone call or facetime away if you ever get homesick.”

“Yeah I know.” I mumbled.

“Hey,” he scooted closer to me and wrapped an arm around me pulling me closer to him.  “You’re ready for this. I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that you’re gonna be the best Doctor that’s ever gonna live. Even better than Doctor Strange.” We both softly laughed.  “You’ve worked too hard to toss the scrubs now, my goddaughter is not a quitter. And she never says no.”

“Thanks Uncle Clint. And I don’t just mean for the talk but for everything. Even during the Blip.”

“I was hardly there for you during that time I—I was in a really dark place and you needed me but I…..”

“You still came whenever you could. It’s not like I needed you to help me get into college or to baby me, I was already in the midst of my first semester when it happened. The first thing you did was call me when the world went to shit. And when it came time for the summers or holidays, you still took the time to at least give me a proper welcome home before your Ronan business.” I leaned my head against his shoulder nuzzling into it.  “I don’t think I could’ve gone through my remaining years of college without you uncle Clint. You may have not always been there physically, but there was the emotional support whenever I needed you.”

“I’ll always be there for you kid. No matter how old you get.” He leaned his forehead against mine before he choked out. “And—I know Nat……she—she would’ve also been proud of you too.”

“I miss her.”

“Me too kid, me too.” His arms wrapped around me as I did the same for him and we embraced each other as tight as we could.

After staying up in the treehouse for a few more minutes, the two of us decided to head back inside for the rest of the evening where our two families spent the rest of the night talking until the Barton’s decided to call it a night and head home.

As they left, uncle Clint’s words rang in my head and the weight that was on my heart early was now lifted as I had a more positive outlook than the nagging negative from earlier.

“You were outside for quite a long time earlier sweetheart, you okay?” my mom asked.

“I’m fine mom. Just needed to clear my head. Uncle Clint also provided some good advice.”

“Well that’s good. But also know that your father and I are also here for you as well, you know that right?”

“I do.”

“Alright well I hate to treat you like a child but it’s time for bed. In the morning we’ve got a lot of packing and sorting to do before your big move this weekend.”

“Yes mama. Goodnight, love you.”

“Love you too sweetie.” She kissed my head and I went up to my room and fell fast asleep after a long day.

[mysticalmusicwhispers]

#i wonder what your thoughts on diaspora in hetalia are#cause its a pretty interesting topic (the post in question)

@urmomsstuntdouble a collection of things that I think about on a semi-regular basis below the cut (also thank you for the tags!)

Disclaimer: I think this turned into more of a discussion of immigration and immigrants, but I hope this strikes your fancy anyways 😅. Also this got SO LONG and I explained quite a bit of history (because idk whether anyone knows much about this), so the key thoughts will be bolded!

My thoughts are kinda complicated about this tbh; it’s weird, because if China really did exist as a personification in real life, we’d probably both be judging each other, just for different reasons 😅.

General Hetalia Cases

I think when discussing immigrants/diaspora, you have to think about why different immigrants left. @cupofkey kinda discussed that a while ago (if anyone hasn’t seen this superb post, GO READ IT NOW) about the Vietnamese diaspora, and I think there’s some of that in every country. How do the immigrants feel about the home country? Why did they leave: because of hard times, poverty? Political instability/revolution/war? Opportunities overseas? Are they doing well in their new home, or still struggling? Does their new country treat them like foreigners or outcasts, unworthy of even arriving, or doing anything besides menial labor, or have they been welcomed (rather unlikely)? Do they hate their home country (politically), or miss them? Would they ever go back, not just to visit family or the place of their birth, but to return permanently?

I think on the whole, hetalia nations would still maintain a connection to their immigrants, especially since most are still in touch with their culture, although they’ve crossed borders or changed nationalities. (However, the angst of not being as in touch with your culture as you think you should is so real; would our home countries be disappointed? Or do they sympathize, somehow?) In the end, we’re all the same that way. Plus, the alternative thought of them just disowning immigrants feels weird; I don’t even know how that would be possible. But I think that connection gets complicated by the reason people left, and their feelings for their place of origin; I’ll be using APH China and Chinese Americans as an example to discuss this hksdgsdf (sorry I don’t want to do more research than necessary and I have Thoughts about this)

**OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER that immigration/diaspora discussions are almost always case by case and will vary greatly based on things like country of origin/race/ethnicity, country immigrated to, initial socioeconomic status, time period, etc. And even among diaspora, people can and will have vastly different experiences, and it’s not good to generalize. These are just some thoughts with one example.**

1. Waves of Immigration 

Depending on when people arrive, they’ve got different push/pull factors drawing them to a country and it also factors into how the nation feels about them and vice versa... Chinese immigration to the US has mostly two major waves (you could also say there were 3, counting the post-WWII/Communist China wave, but I won’t talk about that): one in the mid 1800s and the other after the 1970s/1980s into modern day; the gap is because the Chinese Exclusion Act (1882) that banned most immigration from China wasn’t repealed until 1943 (because of Japan’s attack on the US in WWII, the US needed China as an ally).

IMMIGRATION WAVE 1: MID 1800s

These immigrants were mostly from southern China (Canton area), and they came to the US because of hard times (Opium Wars + political instability because of things like the Taiping Rebellion) and economic opportunity in the West (eg. Gold Rush (San Francisco is literally “Old Gold Mountain” in Chinese today) + industrialization, railroads, expansion etc.). There was Much Discrimination against those immigrants, and many worked as hard laborers in a variety of occupations (on railroads, gold mine, farms (in the South esp), laundry businesses; there were merchants as well, but they were the minority); many were looking to get some money that they could send back to their families in China and planned to return, but over time, they settled down and stayed. I think for those immigrants, Yao would definitely be understanding, even if he might not be empathetic. After all, he’s not thriving at that time either, and although he thinks Alfred is inferior to him (in many ways), he understands why people would be drawn by economic promise and quick wealth, even if it might not be the best strategy for getting rich. It’s not like staying in China would be better lmao. However, I don’t think he would approve (?) how many of his immigrants stayed in the US when most viewed it as a temporary move; I think Yao is very surprised by how so many of them persisted to carve out a home there, despite the discrimination and limited opportunities. Perhaps he admires their resilience, the creation of Chinatowns and community and how they still come to a country that doesn’t even let them in (see the San Francisco Fire of 1906 and the boon for paper sons), but still wishes they would come back, however unlikely that hope is. Personally, Yao would never be able to stay in Alfred’s country, the beautiful country, if Alfred’s hypocrisy prevented his experience, his immigrant’s experience, from being anything close to beautiful. (You were founded by immigrants and foreigners, but now you spurn them: the poor sojourners who continue to flee to your shores, and refuse them respite from the disasters at home.) And anyways, Alfred is just the next scrappy young upstart, barely 70 years old but with a swagger like he rules the world; how could he have something over himself, the Middle Kingdom, who has stood the test of time? (Admittedly, he’s doing nowhere as well as Alfred—even he can see that, despite his pride, and despite the haze of opium in his brain. Leaving is the logical, objectively sound choice. Still, his pride hurts vaguely when he thinks how his immigrants keep choosing a country that keeps rejecting them, over and over again, instead of himself. But it is no matter. The injury to his ego is inconsequential and easily brushed aside; for they are still his people, and they deserve a good life, wherever they are. His distaste for Alfred flares up again: Arthur’s bastard child, who takes advantage of his trade (see the Open Door Notes, 1899-1900), but refuses his people.)

if anyone wants more context or is interested in the history I mentioned, I highly recommend this pdf (from the book A Different Mirror: A History of Multicultural America by Ronald Takaki)

IMMIGRATION FROM 1949 TO 1980: according to Wikipedia, there was very little immigration from mainland China during this period due to the Cold War and China becoming Communist; most of the immigration was from Taiwan/ROC but counted in the quota for China. Since there’s a separate Hetalia personification for TWN, I’m not going to go over that. However, there were also many people from Mainland China who escaped to Hong Kong, still a British colony, during that period (I hope it’s clear why, but if anyone asks I’ll put it in a separate post); some stayed there, while others emigrated to the US; both trips were for more freedoms and a better life etc because China was really really messed up for a bit (also keep in mind the people emigrating all had the means to and were at least middle class, usually somewhat educated, etc.). I will not be talking about that group either because I don’t think it’s my place to, but please know they exist as well.

IMMIGRANT WAVE 2: 1980s ONWARD

A lot of people came from mainland China for education; there was also an. exodus of intellectuals following 1989 (which I Will Not get into). Many of these people sought job opportunities, like those that rapidly opened up in the computer industry, there are many students who come here to study abroad, who take SATs and TOEFLs to get into good US colleges or to conduct graduate research and get PhDs; some stay, others have gone back to like, advance China’s development (this sentiment of getting good students to go abroad and then go back to China to use their talents for Patriotic Purposes isn’t a new thing, stretches back to like the late 1800s). I don’t really have much to say about this group besides what’s below ↓. 

2. Immigrant Thoughts On Their Home Country

more complicated, because it varies by generation and time period and probably 203943 other things. Mainlanders that came over starting in the 1990s till now have relatively positive feelings towards China (imo, extrapolating from my life experiences); I think part of that is also because most* of these immigrants aren’t really escaping from something? They’re coming for an education/job opportunities (students studying abroad in the US (留学生 or liuxuesheng) for graduate school or university come to mind as one example), and they’re still very much connected to China politically and culturally, sometimes* more so than to the US. For these immigrants, I think Yao doesn’t worry too much about them? They’re pretty successful* overall*, and discrimination, although still A Large Problem™, isn’t the same from stuff that Yao (or his immigrants) remember from, say the mid 1800s (see above), or even during the paranoia about Communists after WWII and the subsequent Chinese Confession Program that made many people really scared of being deported. (Red China made Chinese Americans a target of the Communist panic, and the confession program was instated in order to make sure Communist spies couldn’t infiltrate the US. Those who immigrated illegally could confess that and gain citizenship; however you also had to weed out everyone you knew who also immigrated illegally.) I think Yao would see them as an extension of himself in a different land; they’re very much still part of him, and he gives them his well wishes.

However, I think that immigrants born in the US in modern day at least (1990s onwards) are definitely more ambivalent about China’s legacy + modern day Issues™, as much as we are connected via culture and heritage. Not quite sure how Yao would feel about that, because I’m not quite sure how much Yao is the state and how much he represents the people. However, I think there would be some mutual unease; does he see this as betrayal of some kind? Perhaps he doesn’t blame us for feeling as we do? Maybe he wonders what we feel about him; maybe he doesn’t want to know. Maybe he chooses the easier route: to focus on the bonds between him and his huayi instead of the grievances, and leave the rest unsaid. 

Additionally with first gen immigrants, there’s the conflicting feeling of being stuck between two worlds and value systems that oppose each other in many respects. Also there’s sometimes a feeling of not-quite-being-in-touch-with-your-culture (in other diaspora as well, ofc. here it’s often exemplified by forgetting or not knowing how to read and write Chinese proficiently, among other things 🙃); idk. does Yao see that as a bit of a disappointment? Would he wish us to try harder? Does he view it as inevitable, for those raised in the US; the environment is too different, and perhaps he won’t blame us for those differences, or shortcomings. Does Yao know, or care, about the racism? What about his immigrants who try to assimilate completely into American culture, who try to erase the Chinese part of their identity? Those that have tried it, but regretted it? Are they still his, when they have tried rejecting their connection to him, choosing to drop the “Chinese” from Chinese American? Does he consider racism when thinking about them? What about international adoptees? Does he claim them, when some have not been raised in a culturally Chinese environment, and when it’s still a sensitive subject on both sides of the ocean? I don’t have answers to many of these questions.

There are also immigrants who fled China because of war or persecution or upheaval, (one example is with regards to the Cultural Revolution), but I don’t feel qualified to discuss it here, and I don’t want to take it lightly.

But, despite everything I’ve discussed above, I’d like to think that however an immigrant feels about their home country or however long they’ve been there, all nation personifications would still wish them a better life (even Yao). I mean, it’s not always easy being an immigrant/part of a diaspora (especially when race becomes a factor). I really don’t think any of the hetalia characters would say “look at your struggles. What a mistake it was to immigrate somewhere where you still face so many challenges, although they might be different from the ones back home”. that’s just No. Also, I think that when you disregard sentimentality and their inherent connection to the people, countries would still be able to sympathize with people trying to strive for better, you know? People immigrate for a better life, whether it’s because it was getting rough when they left or because other places had more potential, and like. although nation-people can’t leave their own country, I think they understand the people who do, because it’s a chance to make a new life, and it would be unkind, counterproductive, limiting, to prevent someone from taking that opportunity if it came. And their children, and grandchildren; they are still connected to their origins even in a new country, by blood if nothing else, and nations are people too; they must have some sentimentality for their people born in a different land. I’d like to think that if Yao met a Chinese American kid running around San Francisco’s Chinatown, or bumped into an ABC high schooler in a well to do Massachusetts suburb, he’d stop and nod and maybe say hello, and wish them luck, wherever they go in the future. After all, they are the products of his immigrant’s hopes and dreams, and they are his too, as much as they live in Alfred’s land.

* (asterisks): this is a) from my experience and research; not everyone will have the same experiences! please keep this in mind and don’t generalize a very vast group of people. :)

Idk if that was too sentimental or rambly or something, but yeah, those are some of the things I consider when I think about nations and their diasporas. If you made it down here, thanks for reading! I greatly appreciate it. Also I hope I got all my facts correct, but if anyone spots anything incorrect, especially regarding the post 1980s immigration wave, please tell me! Tried doing my research but there are still a few things I’m unsure about rip. 

This might be deleted tomorrow because I’m feeling weird about it, but feel free to reblog! I’d also very much love some feedback too if any of y’all are feeling up to it