#HOPEFULLY that like little echo or whatever is gone i Think i fixed it but wont be able to tell until i actually go live/see the vod

[lightwise]

Omega is not okay

I know we've all been over the moon about Crosshair and Hunter's dynamic in The Return, but I want to draw some attention to Omega in this episode, and something that I think Joel Aron is trying to draw attention to with his lighting choices.

Omega is not okay.

Joel has made pointed out many times that he loves doing reveal lighting (think the overhead light in Crosshair's cell or on the freighter at the end of A Different Approach giving him a halo, or how Hunter stops short of the overhead light on the Marauder before stepping out to greet Omega). And throughout this whole episode, the light is breaking over Crosshair and bathing him in warmth more and more. He is slowly returning the light and coming home to his family.

Omega, however, in nearly every single scene in this episode, is in shadow.

Yes, her hairstyle is contributing to the fall of light on her face, and yes, she has her hat on while they're on Barton IV. But this is showing that her psychological state since they escaped Tantiss is uneasy, at best, and very conflicted and darkened, at worst. Even when she wakes up in the comfort and safety of the Marauder, she is shrouded in shadow. And even in scenes where the light wraps around and highlights Crosshair's face, Omega's is kept harshly defined, and she is often looking away from the "camera".

Even when we see her somewhat happier at points in this episode, usually due to watching her brothers reconnect, her face is not as well lit as theirs.

Omega kept her positivity and optimism at the forefront while she and Crosshair were in prison, and throughout most of their escape. It's what we most associate with her--being a ray of sunshine and encouragement for those around her. Now, however, she has the opportunity to relax a bit, for the adults to be handling certain things, and the trauma and perspective shift that she has just gone through is coming to the forefront.

Her survivors guilt, her shock at not being the only female clone, her confusion and questions over who she is and why she is so important, the cruelty she's seen Hemlock be capable of, and her continued empathy for anyone who is suffering is all swirling around in her in ways that she doesn't know what to do with yet. Yes, she has seen much suffering in the galaxy already in her short life, and has always been adamant about her need to help others. But ultimately it had never impacted her like this. Until now.

Crosshair has been broken and remade by his experiences. Omega is being broken and remade by hers as well. And I'm not sure the boys fully realize just how much yet.

Omega refuses to be left behind. She feels responsible for the fact that the rest of the clones are still on Tantiss. She feels guilty that she could have a chance at a life still and they don't. She feels an all-encompassing need to help them if she can, even though she is still young and vulnerable. This is ultimately going to conflict with Hunter's desires to keep her safe and hidden. Echo has already chosen the fight. Wrecker is willing to go wherever he's needed. Crosshair has been through too much to not be willing to fight back however necessary.

Hunter is going to eventually realize that while Omega is still a child, and does need to be protected, at the same time, her own sense of responsibility is going to eventually supersede his desires.

Echo and Crosshair especially will be able to understand some of what she is feeling and hopefully help guide her through it. Hopefully, Omega will be able to reconcile who she is, what she is capable of, and what is outside of her ability to fix, sooner rather than later. But it's safe to say she will never be the same after this. At least she has a little bit of reprieve before facing whatever is next.

[decks-writing-blog]

Gordon Swap Chapter Six: Remembered

Chapter One

Previous Chapter

[A/N] I finished writing the fic! Yay! It's 14 chapters and an epilogue. I'm pretty sure this is the longest Gen fic I've ever written. Though there are points in which how much I ship Frenrey probably comes through at least a little bit but it's not a major part of the fic.

~

“Dr. Freeman.” The world froze as the voice echoed oddly around Gordon.

He snapped around to face it, raising his shotgun. It was the man in the suit, the one who’d been following and watching him! His finger tensed on the trigger but… didn’t pull it. Creepy as the man was, he hadn’t done anyone any harm that Gordon knew of. So instead he took his hand off the bottom of the gun to sign a one-handed, “Who are you?”

The guy stared at him in silence for a beat, his face unreadable. “It seems a mix up has occurred while I was occupied. You’re not the one I’d intended to have this little chat with. Fixing this would be… let’s just say, ‘difficult’ for now. I suppose I am curious though. We’ll see what happens, shall we? And as for who I am, that’s not important. We shall met again at some point in the future.”

And with that, just as quickly as he’d appeared, the man was gone again. The world flowed back into motion with his vanishing. Weird. That confirmed something supernatural was up with that guy though. Gordon had suspected as much based off his appearing so often in places not easily accessible.

He glanced around at the group – missing Benrey who’d apparently wondered off for some reason, perhaps to look for this universe’s Gordon – as far as he could tell none of them seemed aware anything had happened. The man had mentioned a ‘mix up’ though. Which meant at seemingly little more than a glance, he’d somehow known that one had occurred. How could he tell so quickly? Did he know the other Gordon that well? Answer likely weren’t coming any time soon.

It did lend more weight to their alternate universe theory though. That was good. Knowing what was going on should make it easier to fix after the more pressing problem was taken care of.

“Why are you just standing there?” Bubby said, snapping Gordon’s attention back onto him frowning at him. “I thought you were from an alternate universe where people never slow down.”

Rolling his shoulders, Gordon turned back towards the exit. There was indeed no time to stand around, wondering about whatever had just happened. Besides, the guy had said he’d be seeing him again later. He could try to get answer then.

Coomer was already at the metal doors as they finished opening. “Look, not-Gordon, a revolving door.” He pointed it at even as he walked into it, his tone similar to what one would use when talking to a small child. The door spun with him for a couple seconds before screeching to a halt, apparently stuck on something or broken somehow. “Help me, not-Gordon.” Perhaps he was claustrophobic.

Gordon quickly pulled out the crowbar and broke the glass in the door, allowing him to step through and break the glass on the next part of the door too. It was surprisingly easy to clear the whole opening by scraping the crowbar along the edges of the glass to knock it all out. One would think the glass used in such a construct would be sturdier. Oh well. Just for good measure, Gordon broke every pane of glass the door had, doubling back through the door to do so, leaving a crunchy glittering carpet of broken glass on the floor. They were all wearing good shoes though so it was fine… hopefully.

“Wow, not-Gordon, I guess that’s what we’re calling you now,” Bubby said once he was finally done and rejoining them on the other side. “Was all that destruction really necessary?”

Gordon shrugged. Probably not but he liked breaking things. Not a new thing, he’d always enjoyed the sound of shattering glass in particular, but the stress of the situation made the outlet of destruction even more appealing. No time to dwell on that though. He turned away and resumed walking.

~

“I feel bad about our Mr. Freeman.” Tommy spoke softly, not addressing Gordon who lead the way through the tunnel, ears strained for the military – they’d into several already more had to be nearby. “He’s uh… he’s all alone and he probably thinks we abandoned him.”

“And betrayed him.” Coomer didn’t bother lowering his voice. “Which certain members of our group did indeed do.” No obvious bitterness in his voice, seemingly just a statement of fact.

“They lied to me.” Clearly Bubby was among that ‘certain members of our group’. “I didn’t know they were going to do that to him and I certainly didn’t tell them to. So it’s not my fault they cut off his hand.”

So Bubby and at least one other in the group – probably Benrey given the conversation the three of them had had when Gordon met Bubby in the tube – had betrayed their Gordon. A misunderstanding apparently, but still not a great thing to learn about them. They should know better than to pull such a move again though so Gordon was fine. Plus if they did, he could just reset.

Other him was probably going to be pissed if they ever found their way back to him. A future problem though that didn’t really affect Gordon so he wasn’t going to worry about it. Unlike the military encampment up ahead, the sounds of it quickly growing audible as they made their way around the bend in the tunnel. And was that the a… helicopter? Sure sounded like one. Damn it. Things had just got a bit harder. He had companions, some of them super-powered – even if one of which was currently missing – now though so maybe it evened out.

~

“User death imminent. Seek medical attention.”

“Oh no! Don’t die Mr. Freeman or uh… not-Mr. Freeman. Even though you are him, just a… a different him. But uh… don’t die. Dying’s bad.”

Gordon would’ve liked a choice in that matter but even the HEV suit could only take so much fire from a damn attack helicopter.

“For three Play Coinstm I could heal you to full.”

What was a Play Cointm? It was easier to just keep his eyes closed and just die than try to figure it out. Probably he didn’t have any anyway. So he didn’t fight it as his blood filled his suit.

He blinked open his eyes back in the tunnel, just before the bend leading to the dam.

“They lied to me,” Bubby said. “I didn’t know they were going to do that to him and I certainly didn’t tell them to. So it’s not my fault they cut off his hand. Why are we stopping?”

“Uh… uh… Mr. Freeman… or not-Mr. Freeman,” Tommy said as he rushed ahead to stand in front of Gordon, gesturing excitedly with his hands. “It’s you! You’re uh… doing the thing with time. You died and… and… now we’re here. How’d you do that?”

He remembered?! No one else Gordon had encountered had remembered. Trying to explain had gotten him a pitying look; the kind of look one gave someone who’d lost their mind due to stress. But Tommy remembered!

“Watch out for the helicopter, not-Gordon,” Coomer said. “Its gun can shred through the HEV’s power and medi-gel quicker than normal handheld guns.” Did he remember too?

“There’s a helicopter up ahead?” Bubby asked. “And what was that about Gordon dying, Tommy? He didn’t die… did he?”

“I think he might have,” Coomer said. “I’m… not sure though. And I’m not sure why I’m not sure. I don’t remember it happening but… I have a rather odd feeling that it did. So he might’ve died and there might be a helicopter ahead that killed him.”

“He died,” Tommy said with certainty. “And then time went back. It’s uh… been happening occasionally for a little while now. It wasn’t sure what it was but um, I realized just now because I was watching as he died and then time went back right when he did so it’s gotta be him. Right, Mr. Freeman? Or uh… or do you not remember. Time stuff is weird sometimes.”

Gordon lifted a hand to sign, “Yes,” nodding along with it. “I remember. I think it’s because of the Resonance Cascade.”

“I uh… don’t know what the means, Mr. Freeman, other than the ‘yes’ anyway.”

With a sigh, Gordon switched to spelling, slowly so Tommy could read it.

“C. A. S. C. A. D. E.” Tommy read the letters out as Gordon signed them. “That spells uh… ‘cascade’ so you’re saying that um…”

“It’s got something to do with the Resonance Cascade,” Bubby interrupted. “It gave you superpowers or something?”

“Yes.”

“He said, ‘Yes’,” Tommy translated. Though with how simple and obvious ‘yes’ was, was it really needed?

“Congratulations on your superpowers, not-Gordon. You no longer need to fear death.” Coomer gave him a thumbs up. He didn’t sound or look surprised by it at all. That was fine though because he and Tommy still remembered. Or at least, he sort of remembered which was a lot as far as Gordon was concerned. He could just about hug Tommy for remembering entirely.

“Wait, wait,” Bubby lifted his hands as he stepped forward. “If time resets when he dies that basically undoes it, right? So that makes three of our group, if we still counting Benrey as part of the group anyway, that don’t fucking die. What about you two?” He gestured to Tommy and Coomer.

Coomer raised his hand. “I have built in defibrillators. They’ve brought me back three times since the start of this adventure, four times total.”

“Huh? I guess that makes sense.” Bubby turned to Tommy next. “What about you?”

“Um… you know… I don’t know, maybe. I haven’t died so I guess we’ll see if I ever do.”

Bubby gave him a long hard stare. The silence held long enough to be almost uncomfortable before Bubby casually drew his gun and shot Tommy before Gordon could do more than take a step towards him to try to stop him. Tommy flinched a little but it seemed to be more from the sound than the bullet. There wasn’t a mark on him despite the fact that there was no way Bubby could’ve missed when so close. … A bit too close for comfort but good to know.

“That’s what I thought.” Bubby holstered his gun as he stepped back. “You just don’t fucking die.”

“That’s like an advanced form of coming back from the dead.” Coomer still didn’t sound surprised or even upset that Bubby had tried to kill Tommy.

Bubby turned to Gordon. “What is the likelihood of this? None of us stay dead and Tommy can’t die. That kinda thing’s gotta be rare, right? How’d we all end up traveling together like this?”

Gordon shrugged as Tommy said, “Fate… maybe. It is kinda weird though, huh?”

Were either of them going to ask Bubby about him clearly counting himself as part of the ‘didn’t stay dead’ group? … Probably not. They both seemed to accept it as normal. Gordon was the only one who wanted to know more. Not just about Bubby but Tommy too. And Coomer had to have some pretty high tech implants to not just bring him back several times but still be so hale and hearty afterwards.

More than just others knowing, Gordon wasn’t alone in being able to die and come back from it. The question of how and why for himself had grown banal – death hurt, the less he thought about it, the better. Finally though, he had people he could theoretically talk about it with. But he couldn’t easily do so and none of them seemed surprised by it. If there was a whiteboard nearby… but there wasn’t. And they were on a mission that was best completed as soon as possible. Damn it. Later, Gordon would ask them about the how and why of it all later.

First came getting past the helicopter. Fighting it clearly hadn’t been the way to go. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to turn around and resume travel.

~

“Taste it, not-Gordon taste it.” Coomer was an odd man but still what an odd request… demand? No it was a request.

It wasn’t sewer water though, no matter what any of them said or what colour it was. Sewer water didn’t go through dams. So once they reached land, after pulling himself up out the water, Gordon turned back to it to cup some of it into his hands and taste it, as requested. … It was gritty with dirt and tasted like mud. Gross and probably not potable but not sewage.

“Holy fuck, not-Gordon,” Bubby said. “You’re even more of a nasty little sewage boi than our Gordon.”

“I didn’t think you’d actually taste it,” Coomer added.

What an odd bunch. Good traveling companions though. The humor they added made everything feel less bleak.

Bending down again, Gordon got some mud on his finger and wrote on the wall next to them. ‘Mudd’ There wasn’t enough for the ‘y’ but it should still get the point across.

“I think he’s saying it’s just muddy water,” Tommy translated. “Not sewage. Which uh… does make more sense. It doesn’t smell as bad as the residue processing place did.”

Bubby gave the water skeptical look. “I guess so. But that makes you a nasty little mud boi instead.”

Gordon was willing to accept that label. He had just taken a sip of muddy water because Coomer had told him to after all. So with a shrug, he turned and resumed going forward.

~

The sound was enough to make Gordon wish he could turn off his hearing implants but the thing itself was fascinating. Biblically accurate helicopter was the only way to describe it. It was an angel. Oh what Gordon wouldn’t give to be the one in its pilot seat.

“What the hell is that?” was maybe what Bubby shouted. It was hard to tell over the roar of the mechanical angel’s engine. Whatever Coomer responded with was drowned out entirely.

A rocket flew past, getting a direct hit on the flying monstrosity. A glance over confirmed it was Bubby. He’d taken the rocket launcher they’d found in the alcove before Gordon could. Not that he needed it, he had so many guns magnetized to the suit already. And now Bubby was trying to kill the angel helicopter with it.

It wasn’t firing back though. Whatever angelic or perhaps demonic power the military had harnessed to bring this thing into existence clearly couldn’t cover everything. … Unless the noise was it’s whole purpose. A distraction and to drown out other more directly deadly things.

Shifting his hold on the shotgun to a ready stance, Gordon looked all around. Not much to see but a gorgeous view and the angel helicopter. Best not to dawdle though. He got moving, walking as fast as he dared along the thin edge towards the ladder. Reaching it meant he had to put his shotgun back on his shoulder so he climb up, leaving him so, so exposed. He climbed as fast as he possibly could.

Up top, the ledge next to it jutted out further than below, making it a doubly relief to reach. Nothing was up here either.

Looking down gave him a top view of the angel helicopter. How it even steered was a mystery. It went around in a seemingly random pattern, spinning as it did so. Dangerous only in potential hearing damage. That lack of lethalityis part of what made it appealing. Probably it was the only good thing to come out of the US military.

“Let’s get the hell away from that thing,” Bubby said as he reached the top of the ladder.

Alas, Gordon couldn’t make a good argument to stay and find out more about how the odd flying machine functioned instead. So he turned and started marching onwards once more, trusting the others to follow.

Benrey was still missing. How was he going to catch up to them? … Maybe he didn’t intend to. He was off looking for their Gordon. Perhaps Benrey had a special attachment to him or was just the one who happened to volunteer to go back for him in case a swap hadn’t occurred and other-Gordon was instead wondering around alone back there. He’d be okay though, seemingly he couldn’t die after all.

~

Bubby and Tommy in particular had a tendency to be uncomfortably casual with where they pointed their guns. Bad enough that Gordon, unable to properly say anything to them about it, began pushing the barrels of their guns down every time he caught them at it – especially after Bubby causal shooting of Tommy, he felt justified in doing so. If they accidentally pulled the trigger and shot him, it would suck but between the HEV suit and his time reset, he wasn’t too worried about it.

Coomer was decent about it right up until he wasn’t anymore. Gordon didn’t have time to do more than realize that the scientist hiding in the corner looked distinctly like Coomer before he was dead to a shotgun blast to the face. His head exploded, splattering his brain matter across the wall behind him as his body fell life to the floor.

“Another clone down.” Coomer’s voice was cheery as ever, as he pumped the shotgun. He then started to turn as if to continue onward.

Gordon raised an arm to stop him.

He turned to face him, looking up with the same expression as before. “Hello, not-Gordon! I’m getting thirsty.”

Tapping the back of his hand, where the metal of the HEV suit’s gauntlets was against his forearm, drew the others’ attention. “C.L.O.N.E.?” he spelled out, Tommy repeating each letter.

“He wants to know why you killed your clone?” Bubby said. “I think, maybe, I don’t know.”

Gordon gave him a thumbs up because that was exactly what he wanted to know. Also if that had been Coomer’s clone to begin with. It was possible; rumors sourced from Barney’s guard pals said that a Dr. Coomer had once been involved in a failed cloning project. It might not have failed here and thus, it might’ve indeed been a clone. That didn’t warrant killing though, did it?

“When one of my clones die, I grow stronger.”

Did that warrant it though? Gordon gestured at him to continue. He lowered his other hand towards his pistol. Resetting this was still an option. Right in front of them would make it more uncomfortable but did the clones deserve to die merely for being clones and their deaths providing a benefit to presumably the original?

It was Tommy who answered. “Also the clones get scary and violent sometimes. I ran into a bunch of them when I was looking for Mr. Freeman… uh, our Mr. Freeman, not you… not-Mr. Freeman. It was scary.” He had mentioned that before; when he’d first come in. The following conversation had been a distraction from it but it indeed wasn’t news. “So um, killing them one by one as we run into them is probably easier and safer.”

The clone just killed hadn’t seemed violent though. He’d been hiding much like the normal scientists did. But they were without a doubt Black Mesa experiments and this whole disaster was a result of another experiment. Dangerously violent phenomenon that needed to be stopped wasn’t even all that uncommon; working for Black Mesa had a lot upsides but that didn’t make it an ethical company. So perhaps these guys were well justified in killing Coomer’s clones. Meaning Gordon should probably trust them on it, huh?

So with a sigh, he stepped back and turned to resume going forward.

~

“A hole,” Bubby said as he caught up, indicating the hole Gordon had found in the roof.

“Look, not-Gordon, a hole!” Coomer announced as he caught up too.

And of course Tommy wasn’t too far behind. “You found a hole, Mr. Freeman.”

He sure had but he was giving it good thorough look before jumping down lest it be another trap. It seemed fine but it was also dark down there. Though big enough to fit a person, it wasn’t much bigger than that, making seeing much in the room below even with the HEV’s flashlight shining down into it difficult.

“What are we waiting for?” Bubby didn’t wait for an answer before jumping down. Coomer and Tommy quickly followed, basically right on his heels. … No sound of gunfire or violence in general so… Gordon jumped down too.

Boxes lined the small room; a storage closest. On one of the boxes sat a skeleton and on one next to it, Benrey. How he’d gotten ahead of them didn’t matter, it was nice to see him again. Gordon walked up and patted on him lightly on the shoulder in way of welcoming him back.

The look Benrey gave him in return was unreadable. Disappointment perhaps? Gordon wasn’t going to try to guess.

“Hey guys,” he said, addressing the group as he broke eye-contact with Gordon. “I made a friend.” He gestured to the skeleton. “He’s uh… he’s cool. Got his passport and everything, all good to go and stuff.”

“You find our Mr. Freeman?” Tommy asked. “Assuming that’s uh… why you left this time. ‘Cause it was right after we found out this isn’t him and I know you uh… like him or something, I think. You seem to anyway. Maybe you just like bothering him.”

“I found a blood trail, starting ‘bout were they jumped him and stuff. Led to a metal closest, then stopped. Nothing inside. It sparked a bit when I closed the door but that’s it. Boring.” Ah, that machine was for sure busted then.

“That’s might be the machine that swapped him with this Gordon,” Bubby said, gesturing to Gordon.

Gordon lifted a hand to sign a quick, “Yes,” in agreement with that idea since that was his theory too, before turning his full attention onto the skeleton. As he approached it, it looked up at him. Weird but stuff was just weird sometimes.

He was going to have to tell Barney about this later. Apparently that rumor he’d heard about someone in Black Mesa trying to summon a ‘Skeleton King’ that resulted in a bunch of skeletons haunting that part of the facility, might hold some truth after all. Assuming that’s what this skeleton was anyway. It might be something else entirely. Regardless, it didn’t seem inclined towards hostility and thus it could stay if it wanted to.

Turning away, Gordon scanned the room until he found the door behind one of the boxes. He had to move another box to make room to move that box – how had the boxes even ended up in this configuration? Benrey must’ve moved them once in here for some odd reason – before he could go over to the other side to actually push it though…

“This is a good place to rest, don’t you think, not-Gordon,” Coomer said.

It was probably a good place to rest. A box in front of the door would mean anything that got in would wake them before accomplishing that task. The hole in the roof was a bit more of a problem but it had been nestled between the air ducts; Gordon had almost missed it and he’d been looking specifically for a way into this building.

But tired as he was, stopping always grated on his senses. He’d caused this he had to fix it and the sooner he could do so, the less people would ultimately die because of it. And stopping to rest for too long always made it so hard to continue. He could go a little bit longer before he collapsed with exhaustion and so… normally he would. He had companions now though and if they wanted to stop then maybe they should. Someone could keep watch. That should make rest a bit easier to bear.

With a sigh, he rejoined them back in the center of the room and sat down, leaning back against one of the boxes. Lying down felt wrong. So since this all started, the few times he’d slept, he’d done so sitting up, leaning back against something, holding his shotgun to his chest. With someone keeping watch, such wasn’t necessary but he had no intention of not doing so anyway.

He’d have volunteered to keep the first watch but didn’t have the means to do so. Meaning whatever the others decided on, he’d go with. Instead of bringing up that discussion though…

“Good night, not-Gordon,” Coomer said before flopping down onto the floor.

Bubby and Tommy followed suit with their own variations of ‘good night’. Neither Benrey nor the skeleton did though. They just continued sitting there. Benrey was watching Gordon but didn’t seem inclined to start a conversation.

Perhaps the group had a set schedule for who kept watch. Benrey was first maybe? He’d wake whoever was next and so the chain would continue until it was Gordon’s turn. … And so he should get rest while he could. Easier said then done but he closed his eyes anyway.

~

Next Chapter

[spacedlexi]

looking forward to more twdg stream tonight!!

[trippedandfell]

for the 101 ways to say i love you: 87? (i would put it here but i didn’t copy paste and now i can’t remember lol)

thank you!! i had to edit it a little bit to make it fit, but hopefully it still works! 1.2k | read on ao3

87: "Don't be scared. I'm right here."

“Okay,” Buck says, voice tinny through the car speakers, “before you freak out, just know that I’m like, ninety percent sure nothing’s broken.”

Eddie takes one white-knuckled hand off of the steering wheel long enough to jab the Bluetooth volume up. “That’s not what I heard.”

He can practically hear Buck’s wince. “Shit. Don’t tell me. Bobby?”

“Hen, actually,” Eddie says, biting back the urge to curse as yet another driver cuts in front of him - LA traffic at rush hour is brutal, honestly. “She said, and I quote, ‘your dumbass boyfriend fell off a cliff, meet us at First Presbyterian.’”

“Okay, first off,” Buck says, indignant, “it wasn’t even a cliff. Just like, a really big hill. And secondly-” he pulls the phone away from his ear, presumably talking to someone in the room with him “- you all are traitors.”

“Not exactly filling me with confidence here,” Eddie says dryly, as someone - likely Chim - cackles in the background. He checks the GPS above the dash. “Hey, look. I’ll be there in like, two minutes, okay?”

“You’re on your way?” Buck asks, and there’s something in his voice, something vulnerable, that has Eddie pressing down a little harder than he probably should on the gas pedal. He knows it was probably bad form to ditch the parent-teacher conference the way he did, to leave Chris with Carla and race out without so much as a goodbye, but. Whatever. He’s never been rational when it comes to Buck, so there’s no use in starting now. “You could have waited until after Chris’s thing. We’re just waiting for x-ray results. It’s not life or death.”

Eddie knows Buck well enough to know that he’s not even saying that to be self-deprecating - they’ve worked on that a lot the last couple months, inside therapy and out. But he also knows that all the therapy in the world won’t change that Buck sees himself as second to pretty much everyone else in his life, and that - that’s not something Eddie can fix, not really, but he still wants to try. And if that means racing to the hospital for something as silly as a fall down a really big hill, then so be it.

It’s just. Eddie knows Buck will be fine. It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t want to be by his side anyways.

“Doesn’t matter,” he finally says, scanning the parking lot for an empty spot. “Hey, look, I’m just parking now. I’ll be right in, okay? Love you.”

“Love you,” Buck echoes, and then he’s gone, and Eddie’s left listening to nothing but the dial tone. He forces himself to take a deep breath as he hops out of his truck - realistically, they’ve both been in the hospital for far worse things than this - but it never gets easier, seeing Buck in any sort of pain.

The hospital is blessedly empty tonight, so Eddie’s let back to see Buck without having to wait, following the nurse down the long, winding hallways without a word. Hen had texted him when he was paying the ridiculously overpriced parking meter to let him know that her and Chim were going to grab coffee, which Eddie is grateful for - he doesn’t know if he has it in himself to make small talk just yet.

He raps on the door once, twice, before pushing it open to see Buck sitting up in bed, scrolling aimlessly on his cell phone. Eddie takes him in, drinks in every inch, eyes scanning from the scrape on his arm and down to his ankle, propped up on a pile of pillows and swollen to at least double its normal size.

He’s beginning to think that really big hill might have been a little bit of an understatement.

“Hey,” he greets, dropping a kiss on Buck’s forehead as he sits down, weaves their fingers together. “How are you feeling, baby?”

Buck shoots him a megawatt grin, tired but happy. He’s got a line of dirt under his left eye, and his hair has definitely seen better days, and Eddie is so, so, ridiculously in love.

“Little sore,” he admits, thumb rubbing circles on the back of Eddie’s hand. “But mostly fine. You really could have waited until Chris’s parent teacher conference was done, you know. I know that you wanted to talk to his English teacher.”

“Correction,” Eddie says, “you wanted me to talk to his English teacher on your behalf, since you couldn’t get off shift. I distinctly remember someone leaving me very detailed notes on the kitchen counter this morning. And anyways,” he pauses, remembering the panicked edge to Hen’s voice when she called, the way his heart had dropped out from under him, “I wanted to be here. I just - I was scared.”

Buck’s smile is soft. “I know. But you don’t have to be scared. I’m right here. Alive and well. Well, uh,” he gestures to his leg. “Mostly well.”

“Mm,” Eddie agrees, staring at Buck’s ankle critically. “What’s the verdict?”

Buck shrugs, fidgeting with the bedsheets. “They’re saying it’s a bad sprain. Might be a hairline fracture, so we’re just waiting for the results on that. Couple weeks off, crutches. You know the drill.”

Eddie winces - he does, in fact, know the drill. “You’re staying over at my place, okay?”

The grin Buck shoots him is crooked and completely, utterly, beautiful. “Do I get a say in the matter?”

“Nope,” Eddie says, leaning in to punctuate his words with a kiss. “As a matter of fact, you should just move in permanently.” Buck stares at him, eyes blown wide, and the gravity of what Eddie’s just said hits him like a truck. He buries his face in his hands, groaning. “Shit, that was not how I was planning on asking you.”

“There was a plan?”

“There was no plan,” Eddie protests, but Buck’s already fixing him with downright gleeful look, so he relents. “Okay, there was a little bit of a plan.”

It - it wasn’t much of a plan, honestly, just a key hidden in his sock drawer at home, hung on a keychain that Chris had made at summer camp last month for this express purpose. But Buck still grins when he tells him about it, looks at him with those big doe eyes and says, “sweetheart,” in that soft, aching voice of his, and - yeah. Asking him to move in was definitely the right call.

Speaking of which: “you haven’t even said yes yet,” Eddie points out, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest. He doesn’t think Buck will say no, not really, but. There’s always a chance.

“I’m sorry, was there a question somewhere in there?”

“You’re the worst,” Eddie complains, pitching forward to lean against Buck’s shoulder. “Remind me again why I’m asking you to move in?”

“Mm,” Buck’s kissing the shell of his ear, touch gentle. “I can cook. I only marginally hate doing laundry. And,” he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing, “I really love you. And Chris. And if you guys would have me, I’d love to move in.”

Eddie can see it now - falling asleep with Buck every night, pancakes for breakfast in the morning, weekend trips to the zoo. He’s not obtuse enough to think it’ll all be smooth sailing - Buck gets cranky when he’s off work for too long, and God knows Eddie’s awful about keeping the kitchen clean, but. He thinks it’ll work, the three of them.

“I’d really like that,” he says honestly, thinking of the ring nestled behind the key in his sock drawer, the three drafts of a proposal speech hidden deep in the recesses of his phone. They’re not there yet, won’t be for a while, but Eddie’s in no rush. He’ll take every moment he can with Buck.

He’s worth it.

send me a prompt from this list!

[hollyhomburg]

Of Fire and Love (Pt. 7)

(Dragon! Yoongi x Reader) (Fantasy au!) (Coe-parenting au) 

Summary: You dream, nightmares and sweet memories- Yoongi just tries to hold onto you as best he can but he’s never felt so lonely. 

Genre: Fantasy! au, gender exploration, Coe parenting au, Dragon! Yoongi x Reader, Dragon! Hoseok x Sorcerer! jungkook, Minjoon, Taejin

W/c: 20.0k

Tags: Angst, loss of hold on reality, violence, non-explicit sexual content (taejin), possessive behavior, genderfluid characters, gender non conforming characters, gender exploration, alcohol mention,  

A/n: For those of you who've followed this story you’ll know that I’ve teased there being a hopekook relationship and this chapter touches on their relationship a lot. i dont think it will make anyone uncomfortable because its explicitly stated their love is not sexual- but just a heads up!

-  Hoseok and Jungkook cling to the side of a building, their feet gripping the bare inch bricks just narrowly. This library is old, with drafty long hallways and a crumbling facade that doesn't help their predicament, every other brick crumbles when they step to it. 

- Every few shimmies Jungkook’s feet slip a little and fear lurches in his gut. he uses every bit of his body to cling. Hoseok has no such misgivings about falling into open space- now the arrows- that might frighten him. Their backs are weighed down with books that make it hard to move, while arrows clang below them against the red stone.

- One almost hits Jungkook’s head and Hoseok shoves it closer to the wall.  Panic keeping it laced in Jungkook’s hair, “Keep your head in you idiot!” he shouts over the din and clank of metal armor. The nights and soldiers below them that gather. Every metallic clink against the stone another person come to kill them. Jungkook only grins, but flinches when one strikes closer to Hoseok’s head.

- Searching for books in the human realm isn’t an easy task. Not when all too often they face opposition like this. The humans might be semi-hostile to Jungkook but everyone is out for dragon blood. Enough of the men from this area have already been sent west to the war, but the sheer number of arrows shows that there are still soldiers here guarding this stronghold.

- They hadn’t been here until Jungkook and Hoseok had been spotted. It had been Jungkook’s fault. Dropping a book that echoed loudly- then someone had seen Hoseok’s horns when his hood had fallen and it was all over from there- they’d been made.

- One arrow pins Hoseok’s shirt to the brick as they shimmy along and he rips it loose without a second thought. He can’t shift when it’s like this- it’s too dangerous. Too likely that one of those arrows would hit him and hurt him- unless- “Kookie? any day now!?” Jungkook’s wide eyes are a balm against Hoseok’s frustration, lighting up with blue magic when he puts two and two together. “Oh! Sorry- I’ve got it!”

- The push-pull tide of magic fills the air, trembling with it as Jungkook’s arm glows bright blue along with the whites of his eyes. Every time Jungkook uses his magic Hoseok feels a protective pride flare. Especially when he hears and sees the arrows fall to the ground with a few dozen thuds. Another soldier tries to loose one and it falls like it’s made of lead. Maybe it actually is- maybe that’s the avenue the magic has chosen to take to stop the arrows.

- The soldiers below them stop their flurry brought to awe as the magic makes everything still (even them). The rust crusts in the joints of the armor bringing it to a squeaky halt. The break in the fighting finally gives him an opening to shift. And soon Hoseok is clinging to the side of the tower with claws instead of hands, wings stretching and fluttering. Jungkook gets on his back, a difficult maneuver with the precious books held close.

- One of them slips out and falls onto the stone, and Hoseok swings back around so that Jungkook can lean from his back, hooking his foot around one of Hoseok’s spines and reaching to scoop it up before he rights himself- abdominal muscles straining As he leans over and snatches it from the rooftop.

- Hoseok makes a noise and Jungkook interprets it. “Who you calling a showoff?“ he grins then settles in for a long flight back into dragon territory. A simple strap around Hoseok’s waist keeps Jungkook pinned to his back.  It helps to at least elevate some of the strain.

- The first time they’d ever flown 12 hours straight, Jungkook had slid off of his back with a thunk. Looking up surprised at Hobi who’d sniffed through his hair worriedly, wondering why he’d fallen. “I don’t think I can move my legs” his muscles too sore to even clench. 

- Hoseok had been laughing when he’d shifted. Helping pull Jungkook up- only to have him fall back down again. “You look like a baby deer Koo, come on- help me unpack at least.” They’d spent the rest of the night huddled around the fire, and not once had Hoseok complained about having to get up to fix dinner or stoke the fire.

- Hoseok and Jungkook have been hunting books on and off for the last ten years, it’s not like they’re unused to unprovoked aggression from the humans. Their two sides are at war- and it’s a wonder the humans aren’t more curious about the ragtag pair of book thieves that have been periodically dipping over the battle lines and raiding their libraries.

- Jungkook wonders what rumors if any, are lingering in the human lands. Jungkook would give anything to keep the smile Hoseok shoots him when he asks one night, “What you think they’ll make urban legends about us in 100 years? Keep your books close and your enemies closer?”

- Whatever the rumors, the pair can only hope that none of them make it back to their father and their uncle. If yoongi got wind of what Hoseok and Jungkook were doing without permission- then he might be tempted to end the war just to make sure they stayed safe. But What Yoongi doesn’t know won’t hurt him. If Hoseok and Jungkook were flitting in between the human lands and the dragon lands on occasion just to see if the nearest city even had a library- well then that’s just that.

- Hoseok and Jungkook never spend more than a month or two away from Yoongi and you. The timing of their homestays Often hinging on how successful their search is going and how many books they’ve collected.  Hoseok can only carry so much on his back. They don’t mind coming back periodically to visit and drop off another load. If anything- it gives Seokjin and Yoongi an excuse to take a break or two and the young ones an excuse to enjoy a little coddling.

- Yoongi’s doing better, recently he’s started taking more flights like he used to when Jungkook was a kid. The air does him good and he no longer looks like guilt and sadness and longing are eating away at his soul- like he only comes alive when you wake.

-  Over the years, Yoongi has read himself into a tizzy more than once. Always to be brought back by Seokjin encouraging him to rest his eyes and put the books down for a day or two. “This just doesn’t make any fucking sense- first the fairy anatomy and then this- if we could only get our hands on- ugh!“ 

- Yoongi is about to throw the book and would have if Jin hadn’t caught his wrist. snatching it out of the younger mans hand. Before he can- sparks light up the spine. Yoongi’s anger and fire meeting in the middle- the heat dosent hurt Seokjin’s hand as he extinguishes it with a brush of his palm. Cooling yoongi’s frustration with a knowing look. 

- “Yoongi, you need to sleep.” Yoongi doesn’t fight him on it though both of them know he could if he wanted to. He’s been up for days and the bags under his eyes look dangerously like bruises. “Rest is an investment into future productivity Yoongi- you can’t read forever like this without resting your eyes every now and then.”

- Yoongi has always found it hard to sleep with you gone, why waste the hours when every second spent brings them closer to a cure for mortality. Yoongi hopes it’s only a matter of time and not a matter of ‘if’ they’ll be successful. that question keeps him awake no matter how many days it’s been since he slept. 

-  The next time the boys come home carrying a pile of books for Seokjin and Yoongi to go through Seokjin gives them a look, fingering the spine of one. He corners both of them later- when Yoongi’s away in the kitchens putting a meal together. Happy to have them all home the nesting instinct itching under his skin.

-  He fingers the edge of Hoseok’s shirt, his fingers hooking through an edge and tearing it further with a rip. His magic flares just as quickly to fix it and the tear is gone before the shock has left Hoseok’s face. Seokjin raises an eyebrow at Hoseok’s surprise. Seokjin is dressed in a flowy deep plum shirt- parted to show his chest, the rock at the hollow of his throat pulsing with life but swimming with something darker.

- He’s rightfully angry, “I know an arrow hole when I see one, where have you both been where you’ve been being shot at? Hopefully not in the human world” He taps the side of the book in his hands, “And I distinctly remember losing this book over a night of cards with a wizard 300 years ago- so there’s that too.”

- “It was only once-“ Seokjin gives them a withering look and they both melt “okay- maybe more than a few times, but you know how frustrating it was? For us to stay behind and-”

- Seokjin knows why they had to but still can’t reconcile that with his protective instincts. Before they can go any farther Yoongi comes back with a plate full of sliced meats. The fireplace crackles happily in response to him and Hoseok helps Yoongi set up a grate to fry it. The same recipe for marinated meat that you used to make them when they were children. A celebratory meal steeped in tradition and familiarity to welcome Hoseok and Jungkook home.

- Hoseok starts the discussion when Seokjin asks- pointedly if finding libraries and old dragon castles in the countryside and in the mountains had been any harder than usual. It has been- they ran out of places to search for books in the dragon lands years ago. Though they still occasionally spot a new one when they go over the mountains again. A hidden hovel or a falling down castle that’s abandoned or inhabited.

- “You’ve said it yourself Seokjin; a good portion of our family's records are on the other side of the world. I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal, Hoseok and I are more than capable of looking after ourselves.”

-  Seokjin sighs, running his hands through his hair. Whatever spell he uses to keep it dark must be wearing off, the tips are looking a little silvery these days, it’s Probably stress. The pile of books in the study that they’ve gone through is becoming cumbersome as well they can barely walk around it. There are probably more than 30,000 that Hoseok and Jungkook have collected in the last 10 years.

- What Jungkook’s saying about their family isn’t wrong; Seokjin’s family did settle on the human side of the mountains first. They were responsible for enlightening humanity to the finer parts of magic. Without Seokjin’s family- the humans would probably still be waving sticks around and hoping for gold on the other end. The books they hunt for are the first records and spell books of  witches and wizards that were taught by Seokjin’s father or books from the man himself.

- Not that their paltry party tricks could ever compare to the kind of magic that Seokjin and Jungkook were capable of. But the witches and wizards guilds do have strength in numbers. One which might have a droplet compared to the ocean of a sorcerer’s power, but 100? 1,000? That might be enough to match some spells.

- If the struggle at the border was enough to judge the powers of the guild, then they certainly were a formidable force to deal with. Their spells enchanting the humans swords and armor, making them resistant if not impervious to most fire. That was the only reason why the dragons hadn’t been able to immediately decimate the human army. They had to fight the harder way- with tooth and claw and brute force.

- The dragons would always have strength on their side and the humans would always have the numbers and carelessness with their lives. So short- you’d think they’d be more careful with their lives- but no. Over the years the death tolls have risen on both sides. It helps the human’s odds that they outnumber the dragons five to one.  

-  It’s been years since they left home- though it still feels weird to think of them ‘leaving’ in any capacity since they still come back almost as much as they leave. In the past few years, Hoseok and Jungkook have often flown across the battle lines or near them. But never close enough to see the battle or the carnage. 

- Most of the time they divert their course north and fly over the tall mountains through brisk winds that would have Jungkook's muscles chilled for hours. a predicament usually only fixed by Hoseok curling up with his warm throat and chest cuddled around his too cold soulmate. quieting the protective urge in his stomach that said to breathe fire over the sorcerer- some sort of instinct, probably something instinctively dragon that he barely manages to repress. 

-  They’ve hunted books through the crags of long empty castles, through cities forgotten and new. They spend a good two months last year in the smaller dragon city to the south. Yoongi sniveled his nose up at them when they told him that’s where they wanted to go next. It felt a lot different than the northern city, the buildings rough made from wood and easily burnt and rebuilt. Definitely wilder and less aristocratic than the north. 

- It’d burned down in the last war- so it’s no wonder the dragons there seem less attached to the buildings. some dragon had lit their board house on fire the first night they’d been there, roused from smoke and a shout. hoseok had shifted and carried jungkook out with his teeth hooked into jungkook’s shirt- lifting the younger like a cat would a kitten. 

- Seokjin had gifted a map to Hoseok for his last birthday. It’s a delicate bit of magic, spelled to be paper-thin and bendable but the ink never fading or flaking off. Unable to be ripped or stained. The little red dot that shows Hoseok’s location and a black dot for Jungkook's. It changes each time they move- so that they know exactly where they are. Hoseok’s dot even gets a little more feathery when he shifts. The ink feeling fuzzy to the touch.  

- The battle lines to the south also change too, rusty orange ink rough to the touch- with every league that the dragons push into the human lands ticking a lines with on the map. all So that hoseok knows how far he has to fly out of the way to avoid it if he wants too.

- Jungkook is just a little bit curious to see what dragons look like in battle, but a cautionary look from Jin and his father was enough to extinguish that possibility. “Trust me- it’s not a thing you should want to see” their father had said cryptically. “You never talk about the last war dad- what was it like?”

- “Bloody and long” was all Yoongi had answered. Because in truth- he’d given as much as he could give to that war. The end had left him broken and with the taste of blood in his mouth that just wouldn’t leave. He’d spent months looking for something in the mountains- an itch under his skin that wasn’t for more hoard. 

- The wanting hadn’t abated until he met you and known deep in his bones that he’d never fight for another thing in his life. he’d found what his dragon soul hungered for more than gold or diamonds or anything that glitterd. a family- his hatchlings and his mate.  

- But Hoseok and Jungkook are fully grown now and Yoongi still finds himself begging them not to go close to that battle- to stay out of it. Feeling like control and safety is slipping through his claws. The thought of both of them- of gentle Hobi and curious Jungkook getting a taste for carnage like that- Yoongi doesn’t ever want it to happen.

-  Even though they already did that day in the manor house all those years ago. Still- a father can’t help but want to protect his hatchlings. Even if they’re both taller than him now they’re still his hatchlings. Jungkook especially likes to playfully lean his arm on his shoulders And Yoongi can’t ever correct him. He would let the youngster do anything without little more than an annoyed sigh, just as he had let him swing from his horns when he was a baby.

- When Seokjin had gifted the map, Hoseok had asked why they’re where two dots and not just one. “In case you get separated” the older sorcerer had said, a faint flush on his cheeks as he let Jungkook manhandle him into position on the couch perfect for snuggling. Sending smoke-filled bubbles to smart Jungkook’s nose when he keeps touching his thighs and rolling his eyes at his nephew’s endless touchy feely-ness. But even Hoseok can see the way that Seokjin relaxes with both of them around. Their presence a welcome reprieve from-

-  “Yoongi- would you mind not breathing your lizard breath all over your sons?” Seokjin says haughty. Yoongi raises his massive head from where the coffee table should be (moved to make room for yoongi in his dragon form). blinking at Seokjin before his tongue darts out to lick at Hoseok’s hands- ignoring the older sorcerer. 

- Hoseok can feel his happiness rippling out from his father at having his hatchlings back in his nest. He flicks his tongue out to hit Seokjin’s palm too and the elder recoils with a disgusted noise that makes Hoseok and Jungkook laugh.

-  As if on queue, a book on the shelf falls, interrupting the moment.

-  Every head flicks in the direction of the movement, the flecks of dust in the room pause, hanging in its shafts of light. the air too still to be from anything other than Seokjin’s magic or Jungkook’s- it doesn’t discriminate. After another moment. Hoseok gets up and puts the book back. the spine feels warm to the touch and for a moment- Hoseok holds onto it- savoring the warmth before he puts the book back on the shelf. 

- There have been more moments like that than they’re all willing to admit, and despite their conversations- no one wants to admit what it is. The things that move on their own or flowers that Seokjin’s watched be plucked and fall to the ground in neat concentric circles. He’d gone out into the garden and found a whole pile of blooms- piles around a suspiciously shaped lump. It’s always the multi colored ones. Those moments are as startling as they are special. 

-  Everytime you wake Seokjin scolds you for it.

-  “You realize the more you try to act outside of the dream world the more likely it is that you won’t be able to return back to your body?” Seokjin had snapped. Tae a happy puddle in his arms. You’re tearing into the food on the table while Tae just nibbles. He’s never hungry in the mornings really. Hadn’t been even when he’d been awake.

-  Yoongi wonders if it has anything to do with the little field trips your soul takes outside of your body. The breaks you take from dreaming when you travel as a ghost in their world. Moving books and picking flowers and the countless other little moments.

- “It’s not like I’m trying to control it Seokjin, it just kind of happens. when I watch you guys- when I feel closer to you- it's easier” you definitely do not mention you’re only ever knocked out of your body after you’ve had a nightmare, but Taehyung knows. He looks up at your words, an egg yolk sliding out of his spoon and onto his plate bursting golden.

-  Taehyung meets your eyes and you shake your head imperceptibly, and he keeps eating, declining to offer up the information that would surely make Seokjin and Yoongi more concerned. But the clock is ticking- and they only have 18 hours with you this year. No one wants to waste it arguing even if it does scare Yoongi. 

- Every time when you wake and it takes a little longer for you to stir, Taehyung always awake and upright before you. Yoongi stroking your back in small circles- calling your name as you furrow your eyebrows and blink awake. kissing your face a few dozen times before you’re truly back. It only took 3 kisses the first year- and now it takes at least 8. Yoongi’s the kind of dragon that keeps track of that sort of thing. 

- Later in their own private time together- Tae asks Seokjin with a pout “Why can’t I come out of the dream world to see you guys like she can Jinnie?” Seokjin washes his back in the bath, his hand warm and soapy. Jin exults in washing his love with long strokes, a little scratchy just the way that Tae likes it. just gentle enough to make his love squirm and make the water slosh against the sides of the silver tub. “It's not a thing you should want Tae, none of us know the long-term effects.”

- “But still,” Taehyung’s eyes are like warm honey over peaches, “it would be nice to see you more often.” Seokjin hums a gorgeous sound and Tae relaxes further into his lover's hold. Seokjin’s hands thumbing along his sternum counting his ribs and indulging in the touch. Tae shivers, shifting uneasily in the water, neediness sinking into his core like hot fire. Seokjin’s hand slips below the water and the layer of bubbles.

- “there are any number of reasons why the magic doesn’t want to work on her. It’s been a while and she’s probably just getting used to it, I probably just have to tweak the spell a little bit for y/n” Taehyung sighs, Seokjin’s mouth swallowing a bitten-off moan, kissing down his lovers throat and forsaking his mouth. Tae’s hips rock up, knocking the warm water out of the tub and onto the slate floor with a slosh that neither of them pay much mind to. “I’m not sure I want to hear another name from your lips when you’ve got your hands on me.”

-  Seokjin smirks against Tae’s neck, the movement of his hand keeping up its pace under the water. His actions and his sly smirk betraying his words “Why wouldn’t I? We’re having a conversation, aren’t we? Or is something distracting you my love? Would you rather have me chanting your name?” like an incantation- if love were a spell then tae and jin would have the strongest. 

-  It is nice to see your family even for a few seconds on the occasion that you leave your body. It makes you feel like you’re helping, even just a little bit to watch over them. You try to disrupt something just to let them know you’re there. The first few years- the only thing you can manage is blowing out candles. but it gets easier to move books or make pages flip over as time goes on. and you get to ruffle their hair or pet over it as they sleep Where you stand and watch. Making sure their dreams don’t turn into nightmares.

- You wish you could say the same for your own dreams, but those are far more difficult to control.

-  Often Yoongi will look at whatever just moved, and speak into the open air, through the glass barrier of the dream you can barely hear him. But he’ll go to the couch and sit, hold out his hand palm up on the cushion and you’ll touch it. Knowing by the way he shivers- that he can just barely feel the shape of a hand touching his. Yoongi has always had a thing for hand holding. And it’s worth it- just from the way he smiles.

- But too Yoongi it just feels like you’re already a ghost. It just makes him yearn for a time when it wasn’t like this. How will it feel? When he’s been without you longer than he was ever with you? If they don’t find a cure for mortality soon- then he’ll find out. His boys too.

-  It feels like he can almost taste you on the air when you come and visit them in-between your naps (its easier for Yoongi to say they’re just that- just really long naps- even if it makes him feel childish, the weight of ‘eternal sleep’ is just too heavy on his mind some days).

-  For that reason, he favors his dragon from more than his human one these days. it’s not like he can see you at all in either, but he can tell when you’re there and almost smell you when he’s in dragon form. And that feels more real than curling up around your coffin upstairs (or when he starts to worry that you actually are dead- that you won’t be able to come back).  

-  It’s been a long time since they started searching but it barely feels like a second to them. Like hardly any time has passed at all. Such is the way of immortals- years pass like months, and days like hours. It’s been years since Hoseok and Jungkook truly stopped aging. They’re both frozen somewhere in their twenties, their hair keeps growing, but their faces never change, their bodies don’t change either accept to get stronger or weaker with the care they show them. 

-  Jungkook doesn’t like to think about his age when he can help it. He still feels like a little kid whenever Yoongi and Seokjin look at him, sharing a special secret adult look that he’s not sure he’ll ever be capable of giving. He’s very content to stay the baby of their little family.

-  But being the baby also means that Jungkook gets treated like a child too.

-  “We’ve been over this, it's too dangerous boys,” Yoongi says it like it will make his heart break to see them in danger. If Yoongi knew they’d been shot at- even by one arrow- he’d fly over to the human cities and start leveling them one by one.

-  “Not anymore, we’re not kids dad” Hoseok looks fluffed up, his curly hair and wild, so long it almost brushes his shoulders like Jungkook’s. (More than once Seokjin has snipped his fingers threateningly at it, “you both look wilder than the wind I swear, one night I’m going to take a pair of scissors to you whether you like it or not.”)

-  That is just another thing that makes Hoseok ache all through his chest, and he’s never been able to put a finger on why it makes him uncomfortable. The thought of needing to have short hair for whatever reason. The same feeling lights up in his chest when Jungkook continues- “ right! we’re not boys- we’re men!” Jungkook’s swinging feet under his chair beg to differ. 

- Yoongi sucks on his lower lip, hands tightening over the back of Jin’s chair. They talked about this possibility while the boys were gone, after the last time when they had a similar argument. In the years since your departure, Jin’s taken on something of a parental role with the boys- and it’s nice to have a second set of ears again. Even if it would make both Yoongi and Jin shriek indignantly to be compared to anything like what you and yoongi had. “They’re not children anymore Yoongi, you’re going to have to start letting them take their own risks sooner rather than later”

- “But I already did,” I already let them not be here he wants to say. Every single parental instinct of his telling him to keep his hatchlings close. But it’s better than it was before; now he rarely feels the urge to fly on after them and drag them back by the scruff of their necks. Sometimes when he’s out flying he pretends he’s doing just that.

-  Seokjin taps his fingers against the table, sparks dancing between his fingertips. “As much as your parental concern is sweet, you have to admit- nothing can hurt Jungkook or me in any meaningful way.” Seokjin is being as soft as he can be. “You know this, and it's not like Hoseok is unformidable either.”

-  Hobi gives Jungkook a toothy grin at that. Seokjin lets Yoongi stew with it for a moment. And the feeling in Hoseok’s chest dissipates. Strange. Though he’s glad to have it gone. Though he knows it will probably have him up later, turning in bed while Jungkook sleeps beside him in the little mock nests they’ve made together since they were kids. Sure that something must be wrong with him- something other than the feeling poisoning the happiness in his chest.

-  “If you don’t let them go they might choose to go all on their own. Would you rather find out after? Or before?” Hoseok and Jungkook barely manage to keep a straight face. Their father will put two and two together if they even so much as grin. Yoongi’s pout as he looks down at the table and weighs the options is cute. Under the table, Hoseok’s leg jumps with nervous energy.

-  You certainly think letting them go is a better option- standing in the corner of the room, not that any of your family can see you when you’re like this. A specter and a ghost and just as lonely. How your hand itches to reach out and smooth out that pout on Yoongi’s face. But you can’t, not in this form. Upstairs in your glass coffin, your hand twitches. Reaching out to do the touching that your soul wants to do.

- Yoongi can’t argue with logic like that even if he wants to. Honesty and freedom are better than a protective cage and lies by omission on both sides- no matter how loving the cage is.

-   “You can go-“ he starts, interrupted by Hoseok and Jungkook’s excited whoops, Jungkook tossing his chopsticks into the hair where they hover and spin like pinwheels, before he jumps to Hoseok’s side, grinning at him while Hoseok pumps a fist in the air. The fire in the hearth flares higher from Hoseok happiness Sending sparks onto the floor. “yahhhhhh you’re going to burn the meat, and this carpet is 500 years old!” Seokjin fans it with his hand as if to knock the sparks off of the carpet and back onto the slate.

- They pull themselves over to Yoongi’s side and drag him into a tight hug, Jungkook pressing his forehead against Yoongi’s cheek in thanks. Yoongi goes stiff at first and then melts as they squeeze him tight. Hoseok hooking his chin over Yoongi’s narrow shoulder. Pulling away only to immediately begin to lay out plans of where they want to go first. Jungkook jumps up to go get that map, already dreaming Cities and wizarding guilds that they only know from the maps and Seokjin’s stories.

-  Not that they haven’t been to half of them already- but going there with Yoongi’s blessing is much more exciting than sneaking around behind their backs. There were a few places that they were too worried to brave alone and without backup should something bad happen. But Now they can ask questions and learn where more books might be hidden, what cities to avoid and the secrets Seokjin might know of each.

-   “Maybe a little bit of a change of scenery will do you good” Seokjin comments, a small smile tugging at his lips at the boy's excitement. Hoseok almost asks if he wants to come too- just to get out for a little bit. But the moment passes when jungkook unfurls the map in front of the hearth. Seokjin never leaves Tae’s side unless he has to.  “I’ll teach you some cloaking spells and the like to hide Hobi’s horns.” His hands hover on Yoongi’s shoulders, reassuring him that he’s made the right choice.

-  Weeks later, on the other side of the mountains Hoseok and Jungkook cling to a rooftop again pressing their bodies close to the slate roofs. A few new books in their bag and a group of angry soldiers shouting at them from below the parapet, enchanted arrows seeking them out until Jungkook cuts them off with a wave of his hand, learning to do it first off rather than wait until they are shot at.

- “Was this what we bargained for Hobi?” Jungkook asks with a grin as he looks over at his soul bonded partner. Hobi answers his grin with one of his own. “Maybe more- but I think we’ll raise hell either way.” Jungkook laughs, “imagine dad’s face when we tell him about this.”

-    There isn’t a place they’d both rather be.

-  Hoseok and Jungkook don’t like to fly at night when they can avoid it. but they need to when they’re closer to the border- where traveling bands of warriors might have sneaked around the battlelines and sunk into dragon territory. It’s safer to sink into the humans lands under the cover of night and fly up ahead. They’ve flown too close to traveling bands of warriors during the day before and though their arrows had fallen short it was still frightening to fly over a hilltop and be suddenly shot at.

-   After accumulating a fresh thrush of books in a rather small library from the southern human lands- They’ll head to the coast for a day or two and stay at Jimin’s and Namjoon’s seaside cottage castle crossing over the mountains just north of the battlefield. It would be shorter to just fly straight home. But they have a few more books than usual this time. And the sea air and updrafts will make the flight north easier on Hoseok.

- Too many times have they overshot their load. only realizing when Hoseok had landed to find his once broken shoulder mottled and strained, unable to fly or even move it in human form for several days after. Staying at Namjoon and Jimin’s cottage always brings back fond memories too, though their favorite fairy and uncle Joonie isn’t there of course still south in the thick of the war.

- They’d run into Jimin a few years back- though they still send regular letters north to stay in contact. Jimin had spotted them in the skies and fluttered in their direction. One minute the only thing they’d been able to see was puffy clouds and the next, Jimin falling out of the sky whooping in joy when they saw them. His wings moving so quickly that they where nearly invisible. 

-  He’d made camp with them and lingered for as long as he could. It was nice to have someone familiar with them on the road. A face that loves them. And Jimin is perfect at giving them the right amount of affection.

-  Since the wars started Jimin has split his time between helping Namjoon at the battlefront and going back and forth to the fairy world in an attempt to negotiate an alliance between them and the dragons. he’s Constantly trying to convince the royal family to come to the dragon’s aid.

- It’s not something jimin likes to consider- but if the humans managed to push through dragon land. They’re no telling how far they’d try to go. and if the dragons side seemed bountiful to human kind- then the fairy world would be something out of heaven. 

-  But just like the last war the fey are refusing to get involved and Just because they won’t help doesn’t mean Jimin won’t. He’s been Namjoon’s right-hand man in the war, the hidden second general to the dragon army. He’d even convinced a few of his brothers and sisters to join in the battle.

-  “How do you actually get to the fairy world? Isn’t it like- on the other side of the ocean? Can you fly that far?” they’re stretched out around a fire, the woods a dark and impenetrable barrier beyond their little hallow of sparks. There isn’t anything that the three of them fear in these woods. though they had heard the single howl of a wolf earlier- lonely and echoic in the tall hills that eventually melt into the eastern mountains. 

- Jimin had split his affection equally- running his fingers through Hoseok’s hair and head rested on one thigh and then through Jungkook’s on the other. It’s been a while since they’ve seen each other. Even longer since they’ve been small like Jimin misses. It’s hard to reconcile these gangly twenty-somethings with the tiny dragon and human he used to baby.

- Jimin doesn't like to think of the children now, the ones at the capitol without families (orphaned or displaced by the war) or his own...forgotten hopes. War is not the time to want something so gentle. Not when jimin needs to be strong as much for his mates sake as for the world. Jimin needs to forget his own hopes now more than ever. Even if seeing Jungkook and Hoseok reminds him so much of those times when he’d felt like a parent- as close as he and namjoon had ever gotten to having kids of their own. 

- Maybe as close as they ever would get. 

- Jungkook and Hobi remember seeing the fey ships at the market. Their hulls like skeletons, made of silver and a strange clear material, not glass- but certainly not any kind of wood. Jimin shakes their head at hoseoks question- the fey world is not on the other side of the ocean. It’s an easy mistake to make. “ I don’t think I could fly there if I wanted to-it's more like stepping through a very cold doorway. You can come there with me one day if you want.”

- “Do you think they’d have anything that-“ “that would turn you immortal?” it goes without saying that Jimin knows why Hoseok asks. Sucks on their lower lip as their eyes turned shadowed with your ghost. God- Hoseok shivers, he hates thinking that you’re dead, hates when everyone acts like you are.

-  “Probably not, fey have good memories and there isn’t much of a reason to write things down, but it’s still a beautiful city- makes home look like ruins,” Jimin says the words like he wishes he hadn’t already. Because all of them know how likely it is one day- that the dragon city might one day fall to ruins.

-  There is more than one live ghost- that threatens to haunt them.

-  Jungkook can’t help but remember that day as they get close to where they’d run into Jimin the first time. It’s been a long day of flying, and they crossed over the majority of the mountains in one good push. As the sun dips close to the horizon coloring the world in orange and gold, Hoseok and Jungkook spot a glittering speckle among the forested hills of the Southern part of dragon territory. A small waterfall that runs clear and strong.

- He leans over, gripping the band around hoseok’s waist with one hand and pointing in it’s direction with the other until he gets Hoseok’s attention and he spots it too, listing to the side and settling into a slow dive. Jungkook hooks his feet into the squishy side of Hoseok’s ribs to make sure he won’t fall off. His thighs protesting from the strain of gripping Hoseok’s back for many hours.

- He remembers when they’d been younger- Hoseok nearly flipping when they’d first flown together. Jungkook eager but still nervous on his back, hugging Hoseok’s neck so so tight. Jungkook remembers when his neck got thicker- and suddenly he couldn’t link his hands around it- how he’d clinged with every other muscle in his body- only airborne for a few minutes until they both plumited towards the ground in a way that made Jungkook’s stomach lurch. Tossed onto the soft grass in a flurry of feathers and dandelions puffing.

-  They’d both tumbled, Hoseok shifting mid-roll spitting grass and dandelion fluff. “Stop putting your feet there! I’m ticklish!!” he’d laughed. That was a far cry from how he felt now, Hoseok was used enough to it that it didn’t bother him. Jungkook an extension of himself on his back, tucking close when they flew fast and leaning to help Hoseok make those tight turns easier.

- They’re not far enough away from the battlefront that they can entirely let down their guard. But they’re both tired enough to make the risk unavoidable. They’re Only a spare 50 miles away is where the fighting’s thickest. It’s probably okay, There probably isn’t any danger here. Maybe they shouldn’t light a fire- just in case. 

- As Hoseok touches down into the pebbled bank of the waterfall his claws sink into the sand with his and Jungkook’s combined weight, buffering the trees with flaps of his wings. Keeping them tucked in tight so that they don’t hit any stray branches. Jungkook slides off his back- hitting the ground with a lurch, almost falling in his tiredness. Jungkook has always had that floppy puppy way about him when he gets sleepy- every bit of his body a little more limp and sweet than usual (if that’s even possible).

- The water runs clear and cold as Jungkook stoops to fill up their canteens, unlatching their packs from Hoseok’s back with a push of magic. The roaring from the falls nearly blocks out the sounds of Hoseok’s bones shifting. His hair windswept, fangs clicking against the ones on his lower mouth- what he needs to say doesn’t necessitate a full shift. “I’m going to circle overhead and find us a place to make camp okay?”

- It’s too dangerous to camp so close to a water source. They can hardly hear each other over shout over the thunder of the falls- let alone any intruders that might try and sneak upon them in the night. Jungkook makes a small noise in agreement, the hours of flying in silence lingering.

-  Hoseok can tell his soul bonded partner is only a few minutes away from needing to sleep- probably even forgetting to eat, which is pretty typical as far as traveling goes. Jungkook will push himself to the brink before he drops, and it’s Hoseok’s job to make sure that doesn’t happen. He’d never say anything to Jungkook but it’s a little scary to see the magic sustain him even farther than Hoseok’s own stamina will take him.The magic will suppress his need to sleep and eat the more he uses his magic. 

- When Jungkook stretches in the morning, arms above his head pulling his shirt up to show a few inches of skin, Hoseok takes each and every rib that shows as a reminder. As Hoseok circles overhead, he reminds himself that he has to make Jungkook eat something before he falls asleep.

- Hoseok usually does a good job of keeping Jungkook well taken care of and Jungkook takes care of him in turn. Many a night have they curled up together; Hobi in his feathers and Jungkook rubbing soft soothing motions over the sensitive’s scales of his face, they’re never more than a few feet apart these days. 

-  They go hours without talking during the day, but the silence never bothers either of them. Who else can you truly be silent with if not your soulmate? Sometimes- Jungkook looks at Hoseok and wonders ‘are you thinking what I’m thinking? Or are your thoughts and feelings just as much a mystery as my own are to me?’

-  Is it a soulmate bond? Or just a soul bond? Sometimes, Jungkook isn’t sure- and finds himself questioning that which never should be questioned. he’d never asked Jin if his and Namjoon’s bond had drifted into more romantic territory- sensing there was a story there somehow that maybe the younger one shouldn’t pry into. 

-  Hoseok takes off, the wind from his wings buffering his clothes; the flowers that grow near the waterfall- red and bright, sway under the weight of their heavy nectar. 

-  Jungkook breathes in then out, settling himself into wait. It’s easier for Hobi to search while he’s not on his back; it’s a little harder for him to make his tight turns with all of that weight altering his center of gravity. No matter how hard he tries Jungkook doesn’t have the same sense of balance that Hoseok has. He’s been unseated by Hoseok landing in trees more than once.

-  When Jungkook remembers enough to check back in with Seokjin, the elder is still very intent on teaching him how to alter that. Jungkook may have mastered a hundred or so spells, but he still doesn’t wield magic in the same easy way that Seokjin does. He hears his uncle’s voice now; ‘Breathe in Jungkook, feel the energy around you, the pulse of that which gives things their life- and you- your powers.’ 

- And ‘don’t get frustrated- you’ve got all the time in the world to learn magic. You can’t expect to be as good as me with only a few years under your belt... especially given the circumstances.’

- It's hard to find time to practice on the road, So Jungkook takes a second for this, closes his eyes, and reaches out, his mind like a bubble, the edges of it swirling and turning multicolored. He feels the offal energy in those red flowers. Poisonous his magic tells him, stay away- sweet but don’t eat. The water turns and curls and he feels the life of the little fish below in the deepest parts, the way the air moves as it falls with the water, and endless hello between the two.

- He’s so calm, so intent on being peaceful (breathing with the slowly moving things that are immortal like him) that he doesn’t hear the rustle of movement behind him. The sharp eyes that have caught his human scent and found it unwelcome here. The dragon in the woods. They eye the thin sword on the ground, the only one Jungkook still keeps for those just in case moments of misfortune.

-  Jungkook hasn’t been a sorcerer long enough to smell like the magic, and this far into dragon territory; it’s no wonder why they consider him a threat. Though most dragons know there is another sorcerer alive by now or have heard of him. Yoongi is a historical figure after all, and their family does have proximity to Namjoon and the dragon council.

-  Before they exhausted the dragon realms libraries they’d used that to their advantage often. There are many older dragons that own those old castles, charmed by his and Hoseok’s mere mention of the council. Many had asked how their father was doing.

-  Hoseok was usually the one who talked with them and heard their grievances; (too many taxes, too few social programs- the usual), while Jungkook raids their libraries and fills out his little booklet so that he knows which books come from where. He and Hoseok aren’t intending to be thieves so hopefully they’ll be able to return them (Most of those books now sit in a pile in Seokjin’s library, pages unturned for years with no drive to give them back- but it’s the thought that counts right?)

- The dragons that hoard books are the worst ones to deal with- always-eyeing Hoseok like he’s here to steal their trove of musty moldy tombs. As if the golden bands that line his fingers and dot his ears now aren’t enough of an indication of where Hoseok’s proclivities lie.

- Hoseok’s hoarded object will be gold, not unlike his father. Though you’d once called Yoongi a crow- only interested in that which was pretty and shiny. Many a time when they were children, Hoseok had watched their father growl at you playfully and snag you close by your waist, snapping his teeth close to your neck and nuzzling there, “maybe that’s why I’ve kept you.”

-  Most dragon folks are much more interested in Hoseok than they are in Jungkook.  But the gossip mills and rumors haven’t touched the people here this far out into the countryside. No one knows who- or more importantly what Jungkook is.

- Least of all the dragon in the woods. 

- The growl ripples and Jungkook straightens, searching in the cover of trees. The hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He instantly goes on the offensive, the waterfall behind him goes still in the magic as does the softly falling leaves, hovering in the air like baubles- like time has stopped.

- The magic reaches out at the threat with greedy hands, and the shadows part around it, letting in the hazy afternoon goldenness that glints off of sharp claws and even sharper teeth.

- Jungkook is used to dragons more so than he is to humans, but the sight of an aggressive one is still enough to have him nervous. He holds his hand out, showing that he’s unarmed. He sets a foot back- boot sloshing in the water, sending one of their packs tumbling in surprise. “I’m not- I’m not a threat- calm down- I’m no soldier.” his voice shakes.

- He’s never been one to attack first when it comes to dragons But this one stalks forward with Jungkook as it’s prey. Tail raised like its ready to attack. They’re about as old and as large as Hoseok if not a little larger and meatier. Their mouth sparking with bright yellow fire. Eyes angry and unchecked by restraint.

- And still- Jungkook isn’t afraid, and it takes him a moment to realize why, even when he sees the dragon preparing to spit jet of fire in his direction. It’s not that the magic has made him reckless; Jungkook just knows in his heart that nothing can hurt him.

- But if it tries- then the magic might act without Jungkook knowing. The magic will always protect its host and there’s no telling what damage it might do to his opponent. “Please- please don’t do that” why does is own voice sound tired to his ears? “I can’t be held responsible for what happens if you do.” If Jungkook weren’t scared for the dragon’s safety he’d release a tired sigh.

- Nothing is interesting anymore when nothing can hurt you.

- The dragon growls before spitting it’s fire- and Jungkook is just about to hold up his hands to throw the protective bubble around him when Hoseok falls out of the sky. Crashing down in front of him. Wings flaring to stop the fire from crashing into Jungkook. Dealing out a savage kick that sends the other dragon out of the shadows and into the light.

- Jungkook’s breath hitches.

- They’re the same species- or if not the same then similar. Their feathers mix in the fight- Ruddy red yanked out by Hoseok’s claws falling to the ground with Hoseok’s bright crimson coral. Rather spill feathers than spill blood.

- Hoseok doesn’t notice much about the other dragon beyond a particularly strong scent in his nose. When he spotted them overhead he acted without another thought. Air going out from under his wings and fiery anger filling his heart when he saw them. No one flashes their fire at Jungkook without him retaliating. 

- He manages to pin the dragon for a moment before they turn, swiping out with their wing. Sending small stones scattering in Jungkook’s direction, One nearly hits his face before the magic hurls it in a different direction. Jungkook flinches regardless. 

-  For the first time- Jungkook can see the differences between Hoseok and his species. Where Hoseok has dark red feathers on his underbelly they have white golden ones, their secondary feathers are different too- striped with a slightly darker red like blue jays would be striped blue-black. Comparatively- Hoseok is more colorful but less ornate.

- Where Hoseok’s horns go in theirs point out, the other dragon tries to bash their head into Hoseok’s sideways. Hoseok flips them over with a push of his tail. Their wings tangle, flap against the ground in a thwack that leaves the poison flowers crumpled, but then Hoseok get his jaws around the other dragon's neck and the fight is as good as over.

- His growl  ripples out along the forest floor making the leaves shake. He doesn’t mean to really hurt them but as the other dragon moves against his jaw and a little bit of blood splatters. A shallow cut on their neck. The dragon continuing to thrash even with Hoseok’s jaws around their throat until they yield. It's obvious that Hoseok is the only one out of the two of them that’s been trained to fight, those sparring sessions with their father and his schooling at the academy paying off.

- The dragon shifts below Hoseok. Red feathers melt away into red-brown hair. the girl that shifts below Hoseok is so much smaller and vulnerable compared to her dragon form. “You’re one of us! Sorry- just got startled by the human!” she’s not scared of having Hoseok’s teeth so close to her, still bent over her with his mouth parted, nearly as wide as she is tall. She pushes his snout away with one hand and Hoseok- blinking perplexed- lets her. She looks like the kind of woman that isn’t easily scared of anything.

- Her clothes are grubby and worn from weeks on the road, her skirt thick and woolen pulled over her legs. She’s doing a good job of concealing how scared she is but Jungkook sees her fear in the slight tremble of her shoulders as Hoseok stays shifted between her and Jungkook as if he doesn’t believe that she won't be a threat anymore. Hoseok’s tail flicks agitated, splashing into the water.

- Jungkook sees another flash of movement at the edge of his vision, brings up his hand in defense as he turns. But the smaller heads in the woods just look curious and frightened. Two other small dragons, a small one sandy with fluffy feathers, a hatchling whereas the other is shifted. Her horns are a deep bronze. They nearly get caught in the underbrush as she cocks her head like a bird.

- “He’s a city thing.” she comments at the smaller dragon, which sniffles and snorts around her waist. He curls around the shifted one with his head hidden behind their back. Shy- Just like Hobi was when he was younger.

- They’re others of his kind, the same species. Jungkook knew they had to exist but he doesn’t know why he’s so shocked.

- Hoseok finally shifts, obviously furious, a head taller than the woman and instantly combative. Her blood a harsh brand at his mouth, red and dripping around his chin. “Don’t you have a little more sense to wait and see if he was doing anything harmful? God-” freaking savages Hoseok curses internally- but then immediately berates himself for that choice of language.

- That kind of rhetoric was the words that dragons from the capital often used to refer to the dragons that wanted to exist out here where they were naturally more comfortable. Unburdened by the comforts and expectations of polite society. The girl tosses her long dark hair, matching his energy with her hands on her hips, “well he should know better than to come into dragon land unaccompanied-“

- “He wasn’t unaccompanied- he has me, I scent marked him this morning, and if you stopped to use your senses instead of just going fire first and thought second- You’d have realized he’s spoken for.” Jungkook remembers the scenting and barely suppresses a flush.

-  Hoseok had extensively rubbed his chin all over Jungkook’s chest this morning. They’d been curled up in the dewdrops, staying cozy until the absolute last moment they had to leave the small clearing where they’d made camp, a hanging valley in the mountains. Secluded, safe, and quiet. 

- It makes Jungkook shy to think everyone can smell that on him- that they’d been so close. and in the next second he’s questioning his own shyness- what was there to be shy about? Hoseok is his soul-bonded partner so it’s only natural…right?

- The girl sniffs the air, crossing her arms. The shallow gash under her jaw is already healing. Really- it wasn’t more than a scratch, and Hoseok won't feel guilty for that- not when it was her who tried to move when she obviously should have yielded the fight to him. “You’re right- he does smell like you” the way she says this- like she thinks it’s a bad thing but that’s rich when she stinks like something heavy and heady. A sweet scent that’s so strong it hurts Hoseok’s nose. No one else has ever smelled this way to him before. 

-  Another older dragon dashes through the forest, accompanied by a third- both of them are male and at least as old as Jungkook and Hobi. Hoseok steps a little more firmly in front of Jungkook. Hiding him from view.

-  “What’s going on? We heard a roar?” the smaller one asks, though the larger of the two turns to the female dragon his eyes only for her. His thumb running against her blood-soaked throat, checking to make sure she’s not hurt. The second he verifies she’s not hurt he turns his attention to Hoseok, putting himself in front of her the same way Hobi had stepped in front of Jungkook. He even steps up- about to shove Hoseok but she catches him around the waist. Stopping him from hurting Hoseok. 

- Jungkook takes a second to size the three of them up- he and hoseok could definitely take them in a fight, he shakes off his trepidation and steps up too- holding the glare of the smaller of the two men. 

-  More of that smell fills Hoseok’s nose and he wants to choke on it, or gag. Hoseok scoffs, arms rippling in his shirt. (Jungkook’s brain sure chooses the weirdest things to fixate on, but when did Hoseok gain so much muscle?) Jungkook reaches out to tug on Hoseok’s sleeve, “Hobi- it’s okay, let's just go,” Hoseok’s eyes lose their anger the second he looks back at Jungkook, hot fire melting to burning coals.

- Jungkook doesn’t like to be hated by dragons, even if he’s used to it by now and grew up with it. Hoseok’s priorities shift in a second; to getting Jungkook away and where they can be alone and safe unthreatened in their little bubble. He’d rather make sure Jungkook was safe and comfortable than devote any more energy to these people. “It doesn’t matter Hobi.”

- The woman that Hoseok’s fought goes white as a sheet, her knees going weak in a second. “What did you just say?” the beefier male dragon steps forward and Hoseok barely manages the impulse to cover his nose. The other one sends a nervous glance at the two of them, then back at the kids.

-  A knowing look shared between all of them, and Jungkook is hit with the realization that something is about to change. And in the same second, it happens before Jungkook can tell what it is and protect Hoseok from it. The woman pushes the beefy man to the side, stepping up to Hoseok.

- “Did you just say Hobi? What’s your name?” the woman is still staring at Hoseok open-mouthed, and all at once- Jungkook sees it. The same way their hair falls, their face shape, their similar small noses, and their eyes. The kind of familiarity that only genetics can cause.

- “My name is Hoseok,” Hobi says, and she rushes forward, tears spilling over her cheeks, Hoseok flinches back from her hands, “I thought you were dead- I thought you were gone- Hoba- I’m so sorry- I-” 

- Now it's Jungkook’s turn to put himself in-between her and Hobi. Catching her wrists in both of his. though the larger dragon’s nostrils flare at her being touched- he’s gentle when he takes her form Jungkook’s hold a second before her legs give out and she devolves into sobs. Holding her protectively against his chest as she cries, staring at Hoseok like she’s seeing a ghost.

-  Hoseok looks stricken for a moment before it hits him “Dawon- my sister's name was Dawon. Is that you?” she nods, eyes still shining as she drinks in Hoseok, wiping the tears away so she can see him more. The other smaller male dragon grimaces- looking about as uncomfortable as jungkook feels. 

-  “You have a sister” Jungkook breathes, a weird feeling of betrayal welling up in him. “You didn’t tell me.” Hoseok is scared- that’s the only emotion Jungkook can pin down when he turns, his hand closing around Jungkook’s shoulder, “I didn’t know- I always assumed she’d died. And I haven’t-“ 

- Jungkook sees something settle between Hoseok’s shoulders, the tension dissipating “I barely remember you. I’m sorry.” And he really is, her sadness doesn't well in him a protective urge- he feels nothing at all but discomfort as he watches a stranger cry over him. He wishes he remembered her like she remembers him.

- “If it helps,” the dragon holding dawon says, “she thought you were dead too” he holds out his hand, “I’m Jinseok and this is my brother Felix, what’s your name human?”

- The little ones seem to be the perfect distraction- the midsized one shifting- while the hatchling bounds forward in their direction. Felix is finally knocked out of his reverie to try and snag them by their feathers but missing at the last moment. They flutter around Jungkook’s and Hoseok’s feet- curious at the newcomers. It gives dawon the opportunity to wipe her eyes.

- The larger one of them barely braves enough to sniff at Jungkook's hand, recoiling when he smells the magic sparking at his nose. Shifting with a pop. Her hair is red-tipped like Dawon’s, but black at the roots. “You smell funny,” she says before she pops back into her dragon form The smaller hatchling brushes up against Hoseok’s legs as a cat would weaving between his ankles.

- Though he doesn’t say it aggressively, Jungkook still feels his annoyance prick at this and at the whole meeting. “i’m Not human- but my name’s Jungkook, I’m Hoseok’s brother,” the small one shifts back and forth with a crack, “how can you be his brother if you’re not a dragon?”

-  “Areum!” Felix scolds. trying to grab at her again as she shifts and darts away. “It’s okay- we- we can talk about it,” Hoseok says, Hand smoothing over the head of the smaller one, the hatchling presses up into Hoseok’s hand.  

- As Dawon gets her feet underneath her the other dragon- Jinseok- who hoseok gathers is her mate judging from the way he’s been trying to comfort her steadies her with a hand on her elbow. He’s significantly meatier than felix- who like Hoseok is lithe and delicate by comparison.

- And Jungkook knows without being able to smell him that maybe- this means he’s an alpha. Not all dragons split themselves up into designations of alpha, beta, and omega. When they were younger Jungkook pored over every book they could come by about dragons to learn about Hoseok’s type.

- “Why are you even reading about me- you know you can just ask Namjoon right?” Hoseok had teased in the old library of their manor house, a book from jimin’s library on the study table. “Cuz I wanna know everything about you- don’t you want to know too? Which one you are?”

- “Not really- it doesn’t matter to me” and maybe back then it didn’t. Neither Namjoon or Yoongi were the kind of dragon that split into designations and neither could tell. Jungkook wonders if that’s still true. If Hoseok still doesn’t know- it’s been so long and Jungkook’s never asked, he wonders if the others can tell.

-  “Come this way- we’ve already set up camp and you both should join us,” the smaller one shifts finally, hair fluffy and red-blond just like their feathers, tugging on Dawon’s skirt. He’s a soft sweet thing, barely more than a toddler. “why is it all like that unnie?” pointing behind Jungkook and Hoseok.

- They all turn, and Jungkook isn’t at all surprised to see the waterfall still frozen in time, no sound of it tumbling, still the same way it was when Dawon first attacked. The other small dragon tries to touch the water's edge and finds it impenetrable. Like it’s glass. 

- Jungkook leans down and runs his hand through it letting it ripple slowly- much to the excitement of the youngsters who stand on the surface. Pouncing and trying to break it. Neither of them can break through the surface like Jungkook. “Kookie,” Hoseok asks, “sorry- that’s my fault.” He holds up his hands and with a flash the water unfreezes and resumes its rushing and roaring. The older child falls ankle-deep into the water, squawking and splashing back to the shore- Shaking her feathers out.

- The dragons go white, Felix mutters a low curse. “We’d heard about another sorcerer- but we didn’t think” Jungkook rubs his hands on his thighs, picking up his pack, suddenly shy. Still Hoseok and Dawon stare at each other- this time not trying to get close.

- Jungkook sighs, the heaviness in his chest aching. “You said you had camp set up already?”

- Hours later after the fires been stoked and the foods been made and the sun has set, Jungkook tries not to let the food in his mouth taste like ash. Rolling it against his tongue, the meat-rich with spices as he watches Hoseok and Dawon from across the fire. Ignoring the clamor of Felix wrestling the hatchlings into a makeshift nest.

- at one point tonight Hoseok had mistakenly referred to the two hatchlings as his sister’s children and she’d laughed, her mate blushing and melting underneath her playful look. They’re not her kids, but that they’re all orphans from one of the last attacks at the border before the war began. In much the same boat as Dawon was when their nest was destroyed. The group of three are on their way north to drop the youngsters off in the capital before they head back to the battlefront.

- the two children seem terribly attached to the group of three-  Hoseok comments on this. Felix looks down at the small one- the little boy curled up in his lap, cheek pillowed against Felix’s thigh. His voice hushed and pained “We want to fight. Even if it means we have to leave them, we can’t take care of them like they need to be taken care of.” 

- Jungkook doesn’t say that you were younger than he was when you first started taking care of him and Hobi. But things are significantly faster passed for humans. And maybe parenthood has more to do with personality and attitude than age. If Jungkook had to judge it- he’d say that out of this group- Felix seems the fondest of the hatchlings.

- Jungkook doesn’t intrude much onto their conversation. For the most part he just sits across the fire with his empty bowl and listens. Nursing his skein of wine that they’ve so graciously gifted him and Hoseok. Marveling at the refilling spell that jungkook shows them half way through the night when it begins to run dry. 

They don’t notice the difference- but to Jungkook the wine tastes flat and bitter the magic stealing away the joy of its taste. There are some things that the magic just can't recreate and maybe jungkook’s just sensitive to that. 

- But it does enough to liberate his anxiety regardless; Jungkook’s head is spinning as he watches the dragons, feeling apart from them on the other side of the fire. The two youngsters sleep on soft packs a little bit away, packs piled up to keep the light of the fire out of their eyes. 

- “How did you- how did you survive? Did you run away?” (The memories that Jungkook’s seen flicker back across his eyes, a tiny Hoseok sitting in a treehouse nest, hiding until his mother came. “Stay here- your sister will be back in a moment” and then Hoseok leaving, heading out into the fray of the battle. So small and so so brave.)

- Jungkook tightens his lips. Hoseok knows what he saw that day when he became a sorcerer and they don’t have many secrets between the two of them. But this feels too private for Jungkook to pipe up. The fact that he might be the only one of the three of them that has a clear picture of what happened that day lingers on his mind. 

- Jungkook wonders, and has asked Seokjin about how, and why- the magic showed him what it did. ‘I think it probably wanted you to understand, wanted you to know what had happened and how it did. Every sorcerer has a different specialty, maybe yours is time.’

- “I almost didn’t, I went out to fight but our parents were already-“ Hoseok cuts himself off. Everyone knows what happened and he doesn’t need to say it in any detail. “I went back for you- but you weren’t there- and the others were leaving.“ she doesn’t need to say anymore. Takes a swig of her wineskin too, the words rolling off her tongue better with the alcohol lubricating them. “Two other hatchlings got killed because I went back to look for you.” 

- Hoseok doesn’t have anything to say about that. He’d been as good as dead, and she must have been about 11 when the attack happened. Hoseok would tell her that he forgives her but really there’s nothing to forgive. “What have you been doing since then, where did you end up?” Hoseok needs to ask- needs to know. What could have been his life if Yoongi had never found him?

- It says something that this woman in front of him left him for dead, while their father didn’t. Now that her scent buffs over him from the hot wind he thinks he recognizes it. In the first few weeks he’d been with you he remembers missing her scent. Longing to curl up around it and the rest of his nest. 

- Hoseok remembers smelling Jungkook His snout pressed to Jungkook’s black curls trying to recreate the same smell. It smells kind of like family- but not really. Jungkook would never smell the same way she did- and that was a good thing. Hoseok subtly leans away so that more of it doesn’t get in his nose. Craving Jungkook’s clean sweet scent across the fire. 

- “I ended up getting adopted by their rookery” she gestures to both of the boys Felix leans back on his hand's feet playing with the soil while he gazes at her fondly. Felix is the only one of them who doesn’t have horns, instead- his dragon mark manifests itself in his clawed feet. 

- That’s how I would look at her if we’d grown up together Hoseok thinks. It’s clear they’re close though he can already tell her bond with the alpha runs deeper than her bond with him. “Their parents died three years ago in one of the first battles, we were sent north to the city and the academy before we were approved by the council to head south when we found them.”

- “Hoseok studied at the academy too” jungkook supplies quiet, no one but hoseok acknowledges he spoke. 

- In their little nest, the two hatchlings breathe on, “we were trying to make it to the battlefront to finally fight but now that we’ve got them- we’re on our way back to the city.” Hoseok sees the way that Jinseok touches her hand, soft and cradling. It’s strange to Hoseok, who doesn’t often pick up on the scents of other dragons that those of his own kind smell so strong.

- Dawon smells sweet and cloying, like a baked cake or like an overly ripe fruit. Nearly spoiled. Whereas Jinseok smells like incense and burning oranges (a smell that Hoseok finds it hard to like to be honest), and Felix smells like the edge of winter and fall, clear air, fresh in a way. Other dragon’s scents have never been so pungent to him- even his own. if they smell so bad he wonders what he must smell like. 

- “How did you…” Hoseok’s eyes hover on the tender way they hold each other hand, Jinseok brushes over the scent gland on the inside of Dawson’s wrist something so intimate and gentle. He can see the way she viscerally shivers.  “You’re both mated right?” he asks, wants to know, both of them blush but nod eagerly. 

-  Felix leans back further. “I told them to wait until after the war but-“ he lifts his shoulders, “when you know you know.” Dawon smiles brightly in his direction, knocking her forehead with Jinseok. “You’re not-” Dawon sends a glance in Jungkook’s direction as if shaking her head at the very thought. Jungkook bristles (and so does Hoseok) but as if sensing some sort of possible conflict, Felix pipes up. “It makes sense that you’re not since you're like me, we don’t often mate.”

-  Confusion replaces the tension  as everyone turns to Felix, Hoseok’s eyebrows furrow. Something’s not lining up “what do you mean?” Jungkook asks. Hoseok is wide-eyed “how am I like you?”  Felix- seeming to realize that he’s overstepped or supplied information that he shouldn’t have, has the good sense to look a little bashful. “You didn’t know? You’re a beta-”

- Hoseok and jungkook share a startled glance, hoseok's hands shake a little- he tries to hide it- but Jungkook notices (Jungkook always notices). Hoseok had never thought it mattered- but now it feels like it does. the way that felix says it- like it’s something to be happy about. “You didn’t know? ah- I’m sorry I didn’t mean to” 

- “It’s alright it's just-” Hoseok looks down his hands tightening into fists, a small smile pricking at the corner of his mouth. “I’m a beta?” Jungkook can’t help but feel like he’s slipping even further away his breath hitching. Felix relocates to Hoseok’s side, taking his shaking hand in one of his “yes, you’re a beta- like me. there aren’t many of us left- even fewer now, but you’re a beta Hoseok.”

- Jungkook can’t stop himself, physically can’t keep himself in his seat at the sight of Hoseok and the other beta sitting so close on the tree stump. The way his sister seems so close on the other side in Jungkook’s spot. Felix touches Hoseok’s neck- the spot where Jungkook knows his scent gland is even if he can’t smell Hoseok the way the dragons do. explaining to hoseok what he smells like- It makes Jungkook’s blood boil with an acrid something that feels like wanting and shame at being so impossibly jealous.

- So he gets up and walks to the edge of the makeshift camp trampling someone’s feathers as he goes. Hoseok starts after him and the alpha makes an unhappy grunt at Hoseok leaving. Almost reaching out.

- Logically Jungkook knows Jinseok is his sister’s mate- so of course, he’d be worried about her younger brother leaving- especially if it hurt the feelings of Dawon. But Jungkook can’t help but hate that they’re already trying to stake a claim over Hoseok. Typical alpha behavior already trying to exert his will over someone he barely knows.

-   Jungkook doesn’t know if Hoseok had felt his displeasure down the threads of their bond, but he calls Jungkook’s name again as he stalks into the woods. Jungkook ignores it, stomping carefully through a grove of ankle-high toadstools that glow a faint pink. They’re enough like to see by, and they illuminate the forest in great swathes. A fairy lifts its head from the surface as he jostles one, hissing in Jungkook’s direction as he disturbs their sleep.

-  “Kookie slowdown- just STOP” Hoseok has never shouted at Jungkook and sounded like that. Jungkook’s so surprised he stops in his tracks. He steps on a toadstool and it winks out- the rosy glow beneath them diminishing. A flurry of sprites are startled from their hallow by hoseok's shout, the cloud moving sleepily away from the clearing, wings whistling in the quiet. When he turns around, Hoseok’s stricken expression is lit from below, his lower lip glossy from the wine.

-  One of the things about their bond is that Hoseok doesn’t have to wonder if Jungkook is upset. He can feel it echoing hot into his own body, jealousy and anger and deep underneath- fear. Fear that Hoseok had found something he’d been looking for that Jungkook couldn’t offer.

-  Jungkook can’t get the happy expression out of his head- the way Hoseok had looked when they’d told him. “I’m a beta” the smile like an answer he’d been searching for but hadn’t found. Jungkook couldn’t fit into that system- couldn’t be an alpha or a beta or omega. He could just be Jungkook.

-  And For the first time, being only that doesn’t feel like enough for Hoseok. Hoseok had never cared that Jungkook was a dragon or human but now it feels like it matters.

- “Do you- are you going to stay with them Hoseok?” Jungkook’s voice doesn’t sound like his own. Hoseok recoils at the mere suggestion of it like he’s just been slapped “what?! Of course not- we’re going to leave in the morning? And then they’ll head south. Dawon and I have already talked about it while you were getting firewood.” Hoseok reaches out to grab Jungkook’s wrist but Jungkook takes a step back- out of Hoseok's reach. 

- “It didn’t look like you had any intention of leaving just then” Hoseok steps forward into Jungkook’s space. Between them, personal space rarely exists, but now, Jungkook feels like he he needs some. Jungkook never thought their bond might hurt- but now he’s worried it is.

- “You don’t need to be scared Kookie,” Hoseok says because he can feel his fear, “I don’t want you to feel scared.” one of the terrible things about their bond is that Hoseok can feel everything every emotion. Good and bad, secret and shared all wound in an anxious ball that only Hoseok can tease through.

-  “Maybe it would help- if I knew what you were thinking” because thoughts and feelings aren’t the same things. hoseok knows jungkook is feeling this way- but can’t understand why more than a good guess. 

-  Jungkook sits on the edge of a stump, a fallen tree, and beside him, Hoseok stoops to sit too. Careful to rearrange their feet so that they don’t hurt any of the toadstools, through the underbrush they glimmer and bloom more brilliant than flowers. 

- They remind Jungkook of the flowers that grow in aunty Jimin and uncle Namjoon’s house. Jungkook doesn’t watch them, leaning his head on Hoseok’s shoulder, looking up at him from his perch. After a second, Hoseok pulls him closer, pacifying him with the contact.  

-  Hoseok starts slow. “You know im different.” it seems silly to say- to voice this when jungkook can feel the otherness in his bones. “that I feel like I’ve always been in-between kind of in the same way that Jimin’s been in-between.” jungkook’s egear nodds encourage Hoseok on to talk more. 

- “I’ve never been worried about it because I knew- I know whatever it is- that I feel loved- I know you love me.” Jungkook’s heart feels like it’s going to shake in his chest, lit from below. Hoseok reaches out, touches his cheek in just the right way that Jungkook knows it’s not- not that sort of love. The thing that’s built itself into something formidable in his chest.

-   A love that is neither purely platonic nor brotherly or romantic- something different and new and definitely not sexual but still love. Hoseok is apart of Jungkook’s soul in a way that nothing else could be. There is no space left in his heart. Nothing left for anyone else. All of Jungkook belongs to this and their bond.

-  Briefly, he wonders if maybe all this confusion is just Jungkook’s magical body getting re-used to the bond. Jis magical body can feel it so much more than his human body ever could.

- “I know” Jungkook feels breathless- but the whole in-between thing, he knew that too. For years Jungkook Has watched Hoseok battle with his hair enough times to know that the frustration was deeper than any superficial change. Jungkook has seen the looks- the longing when he sees something pretty and golden.

- When they were younger, Hoseok jokingly put on one of your corsets, almost too big for him. You’d loved it- thought it was just the cutest thing and hadn’t made him take it off until bedtime. “I promise you don’t want to sleep with it on Hoseok.”

- “This- all of them- Dawon” Hoseok takes Jungkook’s hand- more of a routine then any motion- and unlike before Jungkook lets him. “that just feels like a reason for all of that- that discomfort. If i’m a beta- then it all makes sense you know? but still I-” 

- Hoseok steals himself to say the next words sighing them out “-I don’t think I could love anyone the way that mom loves dad you know” Jungkook thinks those words should hurt. But they don’t. He’s been thinking about the pain recently. How their father is their mother’s constant shadow, a ghost that cannot sleep, a love that haunts more than it loves.  

- No question. Yoongi would tear apart himself for you if given the chance. But Hoseok- Hoseok doesn’t know if he’s ever felt something like that with such intensity. Sure he’d fight to the death for Jungkook and fight even harder if something was to separate them. But was that foundation built on the same kind of love? Could more love even fit in the space of his heart- with so much Jungkook already filling it up? Could this love change when it has no room to grow? 

- It would be easier if they were bloodily related, jungkook realizes- then there would be no question. But the fact of the matter is that any romantic relationships that they might have with other people would feel like too much of a betrayal on both sides.

- Hoseok and Jungkook cannot love each other the way Yoongi loves you. and yet- Jungkook doesn’t want that with anyone else. Can’t even think about loving someone who isn’t Hoseok.  Jungkook holds Hoseok’s hand to his face for one moment, then lets it go- lets the idea of this fall away, “I’m sorry for getting angry- let's go back” 

- When they go back Hoseok sits next to Jungkook on the log. The others give them both a measured look- like theyre trying to find any remaining discord between their bond, leaning back satisfied when they find none. 

- Jungkook doesn't need to know what they talked about while they were gone. Especially when hoseok immediately launches into another conversation with dawon- talking through their childhoods- and the parents that they’d both eventually found. “I think you’d really like my mom, she’s like a healer- a good one too” Hoseok can’t help but boast. “Healed my shoulder after-“ he trails off but tilts to show her how he can roll it.

- Jinseok comes over and inspects Hoseok’s shoulder, tilting it between his big hands and unlike before- it doesn’t make Jungkook jealous, (but that might have something to do with Hoseok’s hand on his thigh). Jinseok’s eyes are appraising when he lets it go “of course you healed! I’ve taken a few tumbles myself over the last few years. Almost thought my tail was gonna fall off that one time.” Felix laughs and Dawon rolls her eyes at it. “Yes we’re all aware of your stupidity that one time when-”

- “You’ll always be my person Kookie- I don’t need anyone else. I don’t want anyone else” Hoseok tells him when they’re pressed close underneath their bed things, set out underneath the stars. They’re both Significantly more full of wine than they’d been before and Hoseok’s words are nearly slurry.  

- “I think…I think I might be a little broken.” Hoseok’s says like the words are a secret, eyes fluttering with tiredness. Jungkook presses closer in reply like Jungkook is making up for pieces Hoseok might be missing. He presses his forehead to Hoseok’s. Hoseok smells like home- Hoseok will always be home to Jungkook.

- “If you’re broken, I’m broken too” Jungkook’s words are cushioned against the skin of Hoseok’s shoulder. That night, Hoseok lies on his back and Jungkook slings a leg over his thighs. they revel in the closeness, loving every moment.

- Jungkook is already asleep- but Hoseok speaks anyway. “I don’t need anything else but you Kookie.”

- The next morning the two groups part ways. Dawon hugs Hoseok so tight that Jungkook feels his own spine ache a little. Hoseok must have explained to her last night about their goal of saving you. she seems like she understands why they need to leave. But Even so, she’s a little teary-eyed, reluctant to let him go. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Hoseok nods, his red curls bouncing, not a hit of hesitation. 

- Hoseok hands her a little scroll. If they do make it to the Southern front where Namjoon is, the scroll will make sure that she and her flock are well taken care of by their uncles. Hoseok thinks that Jimin and Namjoon would like his older sister. That she’ll fit in well with the army. 

- It isn’t until a few days later when they’re staying at uncle Namjoon and Jimin’s house that Jungkook and Hoseok have a chance to talk about any of it again. Jungkook could feel the flickers of uncertainty down their bond, judging that Hoseok needed to parse through his feeling and figure out what he needed to say. 

- They only stay for the night, happy to have a familiar bed instead of curling up under the stars before they fly north. The house is empty besides them, though a housekeeper still comes by every day to water Jimin’s plants and make sure too much dust doesn’t settle. 

- They ready for a long day of flying in one of the many guest rooms. Jungkook is just leaning down to tie his boots when he catches Hoseok looking at himself in the mirror. Running a brush through his curls. Hoseok thinks back through his memories of this house- and of the fairy and dragon that should be here with them. And particularly- words that Jimin said to Hoseok long ago when he’d asked about Himin’s gender. 

- Hoseok can’t remember how old he was- but he remembers the fairy bending down to his level in the garden. “To tell you the truth, being a girl or a boy doesn’t matter much in our part of the world. What matters is that you’re good to the people who need you and kind to the people that don’t when you meet,”

- Its that memory that gives Hoseok the strength to finally meet Jungkook’s gaze in the mirror. “I think…I want to grow out my hair.” 

-“Like aunt Jiminie?” Jungkook asks, standing and moving to stand behind him, Jungkook’s hands play in the small hairs at the back of Hoseok’s neck, and he leans forward to sniff, Hoseok already smells like the ocean. “Yeah” Hoseok looks worried- like it might not have Jungkook’s approval. the set of his shoulders tense like he’s readying jungkook to say something negative. But there isn’t a change he could make that would put Jungkook’s love and devotion in jeopardy. hoseok knows that but the worry still lingers. 

- Jungkook tangles a hand in Hoseok’s hair, his reflection grinning back at Hoseok- Boyish and beautiful in a way that makes hoseok ache. “We’ll grow it out together” and they do, flying back and forth across the world. When Jungkook cuts his- Hoseok doesn’t. All until it’s down to his shoulders. The first time Yoongi sees he doesn’t even mention it- not even a little bit- too busy preening and what can only be called nesting. 

- It’s something he’s started to do over the years to relieve his stress, piling up every single soft thing in the room around where your glass coffin is. No doubt preparing for you’re waking in a few days. A healthy flush in his cheeks that hadn’t been there last time they’d been home. 

- Seokjin doesn’t say anything, but he does tug on the end of Hoseok’s hair, twining the long red strand around his fingers. He doesn’t say anything like he might have before, sensing Hoseok’s tenseness. He leaves a few spells tacked to his and Jungkook’s door spells for hair lengthening and to change the color should Hoseok desire it. 

- Yoongi is so happy to have them home he doesn’t even notice anything’s different until the day Hoseok gets into your makeup collection. It’s only for them, just a tiny bit of rouge on his cheeks and to plump up his lips. Yoongi puts down his book when Hoseok walks in, eyes tracking him as he walks in. and Hoseok feels the worry sink underneath their skin before Seokjin taps Yoongi with his book, and they both go back to reading. 

- But when Hoseok goes to his room later he finds a tiny pile of cosmetics on his bedside table. A delicate sea green brocade shirt that’s flowy- all but the sleeves opaque and embroidered with tiny flowers. It looks like something jimin would wear and Hoseok touches it with a reference he doesn’t quite know how to handle. A fondness growing in his heart. 

- The next time they leave, Yoongi corners him, while not corners him- but sidles up to him while he’s on the back patio when the sun is just cresting over the trees just past sunrise. Hoseok might be an early riser but Seokjin and Jungkook still need a little while to sleep. “So, should I call you she now? Is that better for you?” 

- Trust yoongi to go straight to the point. He’s so awkward, so cagey and quiet. So obviously wanting to offer comfort and understanding but unsure how to reach out. He’s used to using the rolling pronouns with jimin, but to use them for his son- his child- will take a second. It’s better to ask than wonder. 

- “No, not yet- if ever.” and then in the quiet of the morning, a simple truth, “they is fine for me dad.”

- “When did you know?” Yoongi has to wonder, had you and him not being open enough? You’d both never talked to Jungkook and Hoseok about jimin, but you’d both believed you’d raised your children to come to you when they had a question or a concern. And Yoongi doesn’t like the idea that Hoseok could have been holding onto these feelings for some time. too afraid to be honest. 

- Hoseok doesn’t answer right away, because there isn’t a good one. Was it the way he’d never played with strictly the girls or boys in grade school? The way he’d often found himself clinging to you and wanting to dress in your pretty fabrics than the drab black clothes his father favored? 

- it was hard to tell what if anything had made Hoseok first question their gender. Did his betaness cause it? Or was the difference caused by not settling purely into one side? “I met my sister.” is all he can say, the only bit of information it makes sense to proffer up. 

- That- out of everything they might have said does get a reaction out of Yoongi. his hands tightening on the edge of the stone wall. “I didn’t know she was still alive.”

- “Neither did I” Hoseok busies their hands with playing with the flowers that have gathered along the rock wall, small and pink. The ever spring around them so delicate and careful. The exact way that Hoseok feels today. “She told me I’m a beta, and after that- it all kind of makes sense?” 

- Yoongi makes a noise in the back of his throat. Then suddenly, turns his golden eyes on his…child. (That train of thought will take some time getting used to) “Well if there’s anything I can be doing better- let me know okay?” he pulses Hoseok in for a quick scent mark, and the sudden affection nudges a purr from Hoseok’s throat. But overall the conversation just leaves them feeling soft and taken care of, understood and accepted in a way Hoseok had never realized they’d craved.  

- By the time they leave, Yoongi is pushing a small velvet sack of coins in their directions. “You should get a few things that fit you better the next time you're in the city.” 

- And they do, Hoseok and Jungkook work their way through the cloth market with a vigor they haven’t found in years, fine silks and velvets- perfect for the cold weather up north. Most in rich tones of gold, purple and red- red is Hoseok’s favorite color. Hoseok gets their ears pierced on a whim- fills his studs with little bits of gold that make them glow when they catch sight of themselves in a mirror.  

- And when they come back after a day of shopping. It's Jungkook who pulls him close. Running a finger over the corner of their mouth to correct the placement of their lipstick. A fresh tube. Sometimes Hoseok doesn’t bother putting it on, or with the more cumbersome pretty clothes, but if they’re going to see anyone, even if that someone is just Jungkook- the red lip color stays. 

- When you wake a few months later; you cup Hoseok’s cheek- hands still a little shaky and reluctant to move. “You look-” you search Hoseok’s eyes for something- anything that would show misgivings, “it looks so pretty Hobi” Hoseok plays with their fingers in their lap. It’s a cute behavior, one that Jungkook’s noticed appears more as time goes on and hoseok gets more comfortable with changing their body.

- “Don’t you mean handsome?” they say, swallowing back a lump in their throat. Their long hair is pulled back today, to give the same appearance of masculinity at least from the front. Jungkook braided it this morning, he’s been learning how to do it for hoseok- not quiet as nimble with their fingers yet like Jungkook is. The moments in the morning when Jungkook brushes their hair and winds it back- are some of his favorites- the soft moments he can spend with hoseok. Hoseok didn’t want to scare you too bad, from the front- they almost look the same. “Not if you don’t want me to mean it. You can be pretty too.”

-It’s not until the next time Hoseok and Jungkook set out that they actually quantify it in words. “I think I’m like Jimin- well not- like jimin. But I think I could be.” aunty and uncle Jimin, who’s just as comfortable in a skirt as they are in a pair of pants. Jungkook leans over, combing through Hoseok’s long hair. Reaching down to the sensitive spot between his- their shoulders.  “Okay” is all he says, but his smile is sweet even in the light. “That’s okay with me Hobi.” 

- And it is- it always will be, as long as Hoseok has people like this, the ones that have always made him feel like it was safe to be himself- no matter what form he wants to take. Hoseok will be okay. At night, their arms tighten around Jungkook. “I want you to be okay too Kookie” Jungkook sleeps on, oblivious to the turmoil-taking root in Hoseok’s heart.

- Yes, he loves Jungkook, but can Hoseok really love in the way that Jungkook needs? Are they just keeping each other from happiness or is this the only thing they’ll ever need? 

- In his arms Jungkook dreams fitfully. But down to his core, he knows If there was ever a time when he felt like he needed more from Hoseok- if what they have ever felt like not enough, He’d never do anything about it. Never ask for more. Never. They don’t need anyone else- no lover, friends, or mates. Just each other. Their bond will always be enough. 

-  The days spent waiting pass like sluggish honey for Yoongi, sweet when they meet the tip of his tongue but only a hint of the sweet eternity he promises you. They blend together for you- more than the dizzying cacophony of dreams. Sometimes you forget where you belong, and forget that you have to wake up.

-  When you can- you strong arm and squirm your way into wherever he is, curled up around you and set a hand on his scaly cheek, there is a limit to how far you can go from your body, and that seems to be a fair mile from where you sleep. So if you wake when Yoongi flies, it’s enough to be able to sit in the garden and enjoy the flowers and sunlight. Every time you manage to knock yourself out of a dream, you can go a little bit farther. Like your soul is getting used to how it feels outside your body.

-  And when you do actually stay in the dream world- lucid dreaming becomes an avid habit of yours. Taehyung teaches you how to do it. As dangerous as it is lovely to feel real things when you can, you do often get lost in the way you can change the world you’re in. Are you a god? Or just a dreamer? Taehyung’s hand in yours keeps you tethered. You wonder how he managed to keep his sanity living alone like this for so many years. In the dream world- days are years and years are eons.

-  And what makes it worse is that you know it won't feel like so long when you wake- the sluggish feeling that not so much time could have passed even though you know it has. The spell around you keeps you dreaming like it's been days, while your body lives those hours as a second. Your mind and your body age out of sync.

- Yoongi’s timed it before, every hour he sees your chest rise and fall. One breath for every hour

- You feel like you’ve spent years in the dreams at this point, recreating each of your wildest fantasies. Though some feel too real not to be born of your memories. You dream of The walls of your cavern home that you haven’t gone back to in years, feeling the cold stone with a warm body behind you- Yoongi. Or hours spent just outside the front doorsteps of your manor house, waiting for Yoongi to come home with Hoseok while Jungkook plays in the field.

- Flowers that flash like beacons out of the corner of your eye, and then it’s not only Jungkook but Hoseok playing in the field too. Both of them running through the field and casting the dandelions onto the floor that spark like embers. Yoongi chases after them- both of them barely come up to his waist. You watch it from the corner of your eye knowing it will feel less real if you turn your head and look at the memory directly.

- The smell of cooking peaches stings in your nose- sour- and you know if you went into your house you could probably find taehyung there- cooking a peach pie. Though it’s a toss up if it would actually be him- and now just a memory you don’t have confused in this. 

-   You Watch as Hoseok flashes red from human to dragon tackling Yoongi to the ground with a warped grumbly giggle. Jungkook is quick to flop on top with one hand fisted and knocking against Yoongi’s chest, the other buried in Hoseok’s feathery coat. 

-It makes you smile- the dreams- these memories are the only thing that makes you remember you’re dreaming. Because you know Hobi and Jungkook haven’t been that small for years. Your children are fully grown now.

- You wish you could go back to those times when it was simpler. And the dreams let you do just that, again and again until the memory barely feels real.

- What surprises you the most are the nightmares. They always bleed into your dreams the moment you least expect them and when you truly let your guard down. Ink darkening the edges of this story before you realize the badness is bleeding through. Anger and a wordless hunger tainting the happy moments.

- You dont think the anger comes from you- maybe its anger from the dream- the world that has found you an unwelcome guest. People aren’t supposed to sleep for so long. And the dream world tries everything it can to get you to wake up. 

- Maybe it’s worried you’ll learn how to dream when you’re awake. 

- The worst part about the nightmares aren’t the fear- It’s not the falling through the sky, or faceless men chasing you, monsters, or tragedies that you can’t escape. It’s that the nightmares don’t feel the same as when you were awake, no blurry edges- everything too real. These nightmares are born of your memories only to be twisted by the dream world into something more sinister.

- Sometimes you feel like they’re showing you the future- or if not the future- then something that could have happened to your family.

-  The nightmares show you realities where Jungkook still wants to be a warrior. Ones where Yoongi never found him and you all meet another way, Not as a family but as enemies on the battlefield. 

- In the nightmare, the war has come earlier with Yoongi at the head of the council. And he’s become everything he always feared he could have been, those whispered confessions he’d uttered to you and you’d uttered back under only the cover of darkness. “I think I might be a bad person” “it doesn’t matter if you’re good- just that you’re good to us Yoongi, and for the record- I think it shows the content of your character that you care so much- even when caring hurts” 

- In the nightmare world He’s everything he would have been without you. Easily tempted to war without knowing softness and love, without having something to protect. And he’d never chosen a mate either- Yoongi is as lonely and touch-starved as he is bloodthirsty and violent.

- In this nightmare Hoseok is just another dragon soldier who hates humans because of what they’ve done to him. Hoseok and Jungkook first meet each other on opposite sides of the war. Not as brothers but as enemies. Does Hoseok fall by Jungkook’s blade? Or will Jungkook burn without ever knowing about the magic that lurked in his veins? Or worse- would he have found out and used his powers to aid the only people he’d ever known.

- Would he and Seokjin fought in that reality? Two forces so destructive that they could only take out each other- flattening the mountains and ending thousands of lives when they clash. You hear them- from where you watch them fight. the dream war is just as bloody and terrible as the real one- and it's worse to see your family fight. 

- Seokjin’s face is tense, eyes slowly dripping blood as he holds the magic in his hands. and jungkook- jungkook looks almost evil.  Jungkook’s words don’t sound like your son- his voice deeper- like the dream just can’t get it right “this issue here uncle- is that you have something to fight for and I do not.”

- You beg the dream world to let you wake up but Seokjin’s spell holds you there with ironclad hands. 

- You wonder what’s become of taehyung in this reality. Would he have woken from his coffin without Seokjin’s magic to keep him there- or would he have stayed asleep? Never to be woken again? would he sleep the same way Seokjin does, chest broken open on the battlefield, his heart removed clutched in Jungkook’s hand?

-   In the dream where Jungkook doesn't know he’s magical, you’re a medic for the human army walking along with the isles of the wounded. Treading over piles of feathers and blood to check the faintly moving chest of a young man, so beautiful despite the fact he’s nearly dead. You don’t recognize Jungkook when you look at him- barely 19 and dying without the magic to protect him and keep him alive

-   Maybe it’s some consolation that this other version of you gets to hold Jungkook as he dies. Gets to soothe him and say, “it’s alright, it won’t hurt in a second, you just have to stop breathing and you’ll be at peace.” As he sputters and tries to breathe through his torn lungs. You know what those claw marks mean on his chest- that they’re too deep to ever heal. Jungkook only has minutes left with his shredded lungs.

-  You’re so focused on comforting the fallen soldier that you don’t notice the beast that lurks in the shadows. Yoongi might be large but he’s also near-silent and invisible in the darkness. Yoongi only feels hate and not love as he watches you, fire growing in his belly.  You might be a medic but you’re still a human and every man you save is just another that will one day fall. The kiss of fire on the back of your neck burns hot and painful one moment, and then the touch of his lips soft the next as you breathe through the nightmare.

-  Those are the worst sort of dream because part of you is convinced that’s what could have happened if Yoongi had never killed Jungkook’s blood family. As gruesome as it sounds, you think you’d rather have it this way than be doomed to that fate. At least now- you’re all loved, though you’ll have to see if one day, the one you love becomes the reason the other dies. For both you and Hoseok.

-  Maybe soulmates hurt each other just as often as much as love each other.

-   When you wake- you tell Yoongi about the dream and kiss his forehead where his head is pillowed against your thigh. Head tilted so his horns don’t knock into your hip. “Do they feel real? The dreams in which I kill you?” he asks you. He doesn’t want you to ever think of that, the improbability of him deciding to hurt you. that you could ever believe that his hands that love you could ever hurt you makes his stomach drop. Yoongi would let himself die, would turn his hands on himself- before he let himself hurt you.

-   “Sometimes” you admit, as you kiss him more, deeper now that you can verify it's real. Kisses in the dream world always feel 2d, not like now- when you can taste him and feel his warmth. Kissing him is like hello and a new daydream all at once. Sweet and sweeter because you know it's real. Syrup and honey in equal measure. “But don’t worry, I never believe those dreams for long,”

-  But Yoongi does worry, And the day comes that you do forget.

-  It’s one of the rare times that Hoseok and Jungkook haven’t come home in time to see you wake. They’re kept south by a snowstorm wiping through the northern lands. But Yoongi’s glad they weren’t they're- glad they didn’t see it.

-   It’s the first time that you wake and don’t remember them, your memories and your mind lost to the dream world. Screaming for Taehyung of all people as you fight Yoongi’s hands (only trying to hold you up seeing as you look about ready to pass out). You backpedal on shaky legs and hit the glass edge of your coffin with a violent thud. It shatters against the floor in a great cacophony of glass shards.

- Yoongi barely scoops you up in time so that you don’t fall against them and hurt yourself. Your hands weekly pushing at him to stay away, a monster that you never learned to love, a face you don’t know.

- Taehyung is crying in his coffin as he says your name. Hand weakly reaching out to Tae, Your panic stinks in Yoongi’s nose. Your body is afraid of him- that’s what breaks his heart the most- that he can smell the fear on you and he knows he’s caused it. it's all he can do to repeat in his mind that you’re just Sleepwalking, that’s what it is. You don’t actually hate him- you couldn’t.

-   But you won’t wake up- no matter how much Yoongi calls your name. How is it so much harder for you than it is for Taehyung? Seokjin’s never said he did anything like this, Taehyung has never lost himself in the dream world like this.  

-  The second Tae feels like he has control of his legs he pushes Yoongi off of you. Cupping your cheeks and pulling you up and onto his glass coffin. “It’s not a dream- you’re not dreaming” but your eyes dart around the room like you’re not really seeing it. Yoongi sits there surrounded by glass watching as you don’t fight Tae.

- “Y/n you’re awake- this is your real life- this isn’t another nightmare” But his words fall on your unhearing ears. You stare at Taehyung like they’re something growing out of his head- and who knows- maybe there is. A piece of the dream world that you’ve carried into your waking hours. A hallucination. Yoongi doesn’t want to think about what you might have seen when you looked at his face.

- “Why are you calling me that? That’s not my name.” that’s the final straw, Seokjin knocked out of his reverie and Yoongi pining himself to the wall while Seokjin puts you back to sleep, a thumb pressed to your forehead until you slump in Tae’s arms. Tae holds you so delicately. And it takes seeing him cry for Yoongi to recognize the wetness on his own cheeks as tears too. 

- He almost wants to reach out and keep you here. Because he knows- Yoongi knows- once you go into that coffin again they’re no getting you out. One more year to tick by without you. Two at once- They’ve never done this before and they can only hope it works- that you come back whole the next time.

-  By the time Jungkook and Hoseok get home at noon, Hoseok’s wings are coated with a faint layer of frost. Yoongi is still sitting out on the edge of the property, watching the faintly raging snowstorm outside the barrier. Eyes wet and dark. His arms wrapped around himself like he’s trying to comfort himself. To alleviate the ache of being untouched. Maybe it’s dramatic- but Yoongi aches like he’s been shot down by an arrow. He never knew he could get so touch starved.  

-  His children watch him, mixed terror and discomfort at finding their father without their mother on the one day they should be seen together. “She’s not awake- you can get inside and see her though.” yoongi feels like he’ll never be warm again. 

-  The eternal spring of Seokjin’s home is more than enough to have the cold dissipate, but the cold at seeing you in Tae’s coffin stays. Yours shattered to the side (Seokjin will repair it for Tae later), is something that chills Jungkook to the bone. Jungkook doesn’t realize he’s using the magic in a panic until Hoseok touches his cheek and calls his name. 

-All Jungkook knows is that your coffin magically replaced behind Tae’s and that the roses on the trellis outside are sneaking in through the open window. The warmth of Hoseok’s palm is welcomed comfort that Jungkook leans into. Trying not to cry.

- Jungkook and Hoseok get the story from Tae and Seokjin and then go back outside to sit next to their father. “Am I doing the right thing? Or should we just let her wake up and-“ Jungkook is the first to shake his head. “Mom doesn’t want to die dad- she’d say the same if she could” Hoseok’s hands tighten on their pants. Their whole body shaking at the thought of letting you- just letting you die. 

- “Next year- it will be different.” No one says that they don’t know that for sure. That they’re just trying whatever they think will work without knowing if you’re right. If you even can come back. Jungkook and Hoseok stay for longer this time, to comfort their father. But then-one day weeks later, he stands up.

- They’re out of books. At least for now- until Hoseok and Jungkook can rocket across the world, every swipe of Hoseok’s wings faster- harder, pushing themselves to carry more. They feel like time is ticking down. 

- The next year you wake without a fuss. And no one mentions the last year to you; you don’t remember what happened at all. You have no idea that it’s been two since they last saw you. And this time- Yoongi treasures it even more.  For 18 hours- he doesn’t stop touching you. A hand on your lower back or your cheek. 18 hours of love after two years of nothing.

- Hoseok watches you carefully, looking for a hint that you know what happened, that you remember it in any way. But the day remains lost to the tangle of your memories and dreams. More than once- Hoseok catches you watching them, eyes furrowed like you’re having some sort of inner debate or trying to decide if what you’re seeing is real.

- Your brief wakefulness might be their favorite part- but it’s also the scariest.

-  It gets a little better, the dreams can’t create new things for you- only things you’ve experienced before really. So when you see them in newer clothes, when they actively change things about your surroundings before you wake up it makes a difference.

- Seokjin changes the spell around his castle to fall just for you, and you spend ages in the garden, pressing sweet tomatoes to Yoongi’s mouth and cooking pumpkin seeds with Hoseok and Jungkook. Hoseok excitingly shows you their new trick- a little jet of fire that they can manage on their hands in their human form. It’s far from Yoongi’s near magic control of fire but it still makes you smile and shout and give Hoseok little scratches on the head a proud feeling in your chest. 

- No matter that you need to reach up to do it now- they’ve been taller than you for so long it’s hard to remember they were ever so tiny. Hoseok’s change is also another thing that makes it easier. You dislike it- and you’d never treat your child any differently than how they wanted to treat them- but when you dream Hoseok- they’re still listless in their skin, a boy along with Jungkook. 

- It’s reassuring when you wake and find them still the same as ever but so much more comfortable in their skin than they’d ever been before. As a child, Hoseok had been quiet and easily anxious (only soothed by Jungkook) now they’re louder and happier, a little bit of something shimmery gold on their eyelids, dancing around the kitchen and sending off little puffs of yellow fire (only to be contained by Jungkook’s magic). 

- “Really Hobi- the kitchen is made of wood- you’ve got to be careful’). Their face stretching in a familiar heart-shaped smile that you all love. Hoseok is so so happy. 

- You’ve never seen them this happy, and that makes the discontent rise in your chest because- how had you never realized they weren’t? How did you never see that Comfort was a fickle thing in Hoseok’s chest in a way it wasn’t for anyone but Jimin. 

- You try to remember back to their meeting sometimes. Hoseok had looked at Jimin like he hung the stars and asked more questions than anyone else. You’d assumed it was just childlike curiosity- but maybe that had a deeper meaning than you’d initially thought. 

- Before you sleep you unpack some of your old clothes and hand them down to Hoseok. Fine clothes and silks that Yoongi had made for you when you lived closer to the dragon city. Seeing as you have no use for them anymore, they’re a similar size- and Hoseok is only a little bit larger than you, maybe a tad bit broader but you liked your clothes flowy and loose anyway. 

- You anchor yourself with their smile when you go into the dreams again. Excited to wake and help Hoseok explore their feminine side more.  

- The nightmares are ever vibrant and feverish, with reality at a resolution just out of clarity. You dream of each of your family hurt beyond repair and you dream that they’re happy without you. Those hunters grabbing a tiny Hoseok by his feathers and tear them- his beautiful- delicate wings, and pluck him like a chicken. 

- They do the same to Yoongi- albeit slower, removing every inch of his wing membrane until his bones clatter together like a wind chime. You have to watch, unable to move regardless of his roars that shake the earth. Maybe it says a lot about your love if the thing you’re scared of most is not being there to comfort Yoongi. 

- Other nightmares of black fire that climbs the walls and sinks close to Jungkook in his baby basket. A calamity that you cannot end, like the trudge of time- the nightmares feel like they last forever. The wand in his arm burning too- unable to bond with him. His soul burned from the inside out. You scramble over his ashes, grasping at them like it will bring him back. 

- You can’t help it, sobbing like your heart was ripped out. Hoseok falling too, crying in anguish as part of his soul dies. his wings fall limp- unable to fly without Jungkook. The saddest death is that of someone who can no longer do what they love, and the second saddest is a dragon without its wings.

- It’s so sad, It’s just like that time you woke up and saw only strangers in your bedroom, the nightmares always feel so real.  

Please Reblog and Comment! Likes are nice but they do little to support content creators!

Part 8: The Woman and The War *coming soon*

[echo-of-sounds]

who cares if it’s cliche?

-Aizawa x gn!reader-

cute gif

This was a commission for @seraphicghost​! They asked for a fluffy/sweet scenario with the reader confessing in the rain plus a kiss. Thank you so much for the commission! This was super cute to write!

“Here’s your beer, boys!” Nemuri set the bottles down for Hizashi and Aizawa. She scooted in beside you, chirping, “And here’s your Sex in the Driveway.”

“Thanks,” you droned, choosing to ignore her suggestive eyebrow wiggle. She wasn’t one to let anyone live anything down, and now that she noticed, it has only gotten worse.

Hizashi chugged his beer, then slammed it rather loudly. “Alright! Sho, I’ve shown up at work high, I’ve had a one-night stand with Nemuri, and I’ve never been on a rollercoaster.”

“The former.”

“What? How’d you figure that out so quickly?!”

“Hizashi,” both you and Aizawa said, telling him to control his volume. Aizawa finished flatly, “You can’t not talk about everything you do. You’d tell me something like that. Not to mention how useless you are high. The entire school would’ve noticed.”

You hid your smile behind your drink. The faint smirk that lifted Aizawa’s lips fluttered your chest, spinning into your stomach. If only he let himself smile more, experience happiness more, then you could see his handsome smile more. Dark eyes flicked to yours, flustering your heated heart further.

You had to look away and drink some water. You were an adult. He shouldn’t be making you flashback to high school crushes and wistful, young romance.

The game continued for a few more rounds, eventually petering out. Nemuri leaned against you. Alcohol swarmed from her sigh. Pink flushed her cheeks, sticking hair to skin. She mumbled into her glass before finishing it, “I think it’s time to head home.”

“I’ll get a ride.” You clicked on your phone, and it wasn’t long till it beeped: “Car’s here.”

Sooner than you could even move a leg, Hizashi jumped up, swooping an arm around Nemuri’s waist. “I’ll bring her home. You two have fun.”

“Hizashi,” you called after him. He didn’t acknowledge you as he escorted her outside.

They just abandoned you with Aizawa, who was already looking at you when you glanced over. You went to take a drink. The empty glass prevented that. Lemon slices and ice taunted you, laughing that your last barrier between you two was gone. You set the cup down with a sigh.

Shouta nodded at it, “Want another drink?”

“Sure.”

You were once again beaten to your feet; He stood and took the glass. “Same thing?”

“Yeah, another Sex-” Your voice flatlined upon meeting his eyes. Despite the shadow under them, the red in them, and the heavy brow above, their sudden sharpness took your breath, completely unlike their usual dull and dry tone. The change nailed your brain useless.

“More sex?” His lips lifted ever so slightly. When no sound escaped your hanging mouth, he goaded, “More sex then.”

You slumped in the chair, holding your too-fast heart, replaying the bumbling. Saying ‘sex’ while being within two feet of his face, able to discern the bristles of his beard, a crack in his bottom lip, how attractive- Stop. If you couldn’t grow up and say something to him, then don’t bother thinking it.

A blue drink was placed in front of you. It was only your second, yet combined with the tickling in your neck and the bite in your chest, it felt like you were four or five in.

Shouta retook his seat across from you. Whatever you were feeling, anxiety or infatuation, that weighed your heart, lightened with his soft smile. It reached up to a soar when he asked about your most recent patrol.

Thankfully, the conversation from there flowed smoothly. You could keep up with no fumbling and simply enjoy your time with him. And you even got to see a couple more smiles, though they were faint. Every single one made thoughts echo inside: Just ask. It’s not that hard. Just ask! It made it difficult to focus on his words.

Once you finished your drink, your body, while light, lagged tired. You spoke through a yawn, “I’m gonna head out, Sho.”

“Need a cab?”

“No. I actually think I’m going to walk. It’s a pleasant night.” You stood and zipped up your sweatshirt.

He mirrored you and fixed his scarf. It wasn’t his Hero one, just a simple dark gray one, still allowing him ample room to nuzzle into it. Plus, it made him look reasonably fashionable compared to how he typically dressed. He grabbed your wallet from the table, holding it out for you, “I paid for the drink upfront.”

“Shouta, you didn’t need to do that.”

“No big deal,” he shrugged it off.

Yes, it was. If the others were here, you doubted- No. You knew he wouldn’t have done that.

You accepted your wallet and his kindness, muttering on the way out, “Thank you.”

The stroll home started quietly. Gusts blew your hood around. Shouta maneuvered to the outside of the sidewalk, so he was between you and traffic. Your elbows bumped every few steps. Neither of you commented or changed positions, letting it keep happening. If anything, you wanted to step closer to feel the emitting from his body.

Water dripped down the back of your sweatshirt, startling you. The single droplet increased to a steady rain in seconds. You hugged your hood and yourself. He nudged your arm and nodded to a nearby drugstore. It wasn’t much. But it was shelter.

Inside, Shouta slicked his hair back. Pale fingers combed through thick black, unveiling a sharp jaw and lovely scruff; too stunning to always hide under a mess of hair. The wet strands struggled to fit into an elastic. With enough finagling, they finally pulled into place, leaving room for the darkened line on his cheekbone to stick out. Just like his eyes did…

Which were staring at you. Dammit. You turned into an aisle, searching for anything interesting that wasn’t him. All it would take was a handful of sentences then he would know. If he reciprocated, all would be grand; your worry was for naught. However, if he didn’t, the plague of dread that’s accompanied the crush would crash. Never knowing felt like the better option.

You walked the main aisle. There were pool toys, makeup, hygiene, sex toys that you vehemently avoided, fearing Shouta would see the smallest glance towards them. A pair of fleece socks got your attention. The inside was incredibly fluffy and thick. The outside had kitty pawprints designed all over them.

“These are cute,” you smiled and showed them to the approaching Shouta.

He grunted and continued. It didn’t hide the fact you knew he thought them cute as well. Cats were the only things he gave into.

You combed the rest of the rows of items. Not one thing piqued your interest enough to buy. You searched for Shouta, finding him at the checkout, buying a pack of gum and some migraine relief pills. He lifted his brow.

You answered the silent question, “Didn’t see anything special.”

“Not even the cat socks?”

“If I’m still thinking about them in a few days, I’ll come back for them,” you smiled.

After thanking the cashier, your walk home resumed. The rain had stopped, leaving everything glossy and smelling of the earth. It lifted the air between yours and his shoulders.

Thick fingers extended a piece of gum. His eyes remained on the sidewalk when you took it and thanked him. The fresh mint sent a little chill down your back, frosting your mouth as you watched him, thinking, ‘Now was a perfect time. No one’s around. You just need to say it. A few sentences and you’re done.’

The instant your mouth opened, rain poured, loud and heavy. Your hood provided sparse protection.

Shouta grumbled into his scarf, “So much for a nice night.”

“Sorry… But you didn’t have to walk with me, you know? You could’ve called for a ride.”

His eyebrows scrunched with a groan.

“Here’s your turn, anyway. Get home fast,” you called over the pattering, nodding towards the left turnoff. The top of his apartment peaked out over the smaller buildings.

“It’s late. I’ll walk you home,” he grumbled again. His voice carried much less complaint this time and more concern.

Both of you picked up the pace, fast-walking down the sidewalks and hustling across the streets.

Only at your door did you face Shouta, not caring about being soaking wet anymore. He was closer than you expected, nearly bumping into his chest. You looked to his mouth, unable to make it to his eyes, unsure if you wanted to see them this close. You surprised yourself with how steady your voice sounded, “Do you want to come inside? Drink something warm?”

“I’m alright. Just wanted to make sure you got home alright.”

“I did. Thank you.” Your legs didn’t move. It’d be a whole lot warmer, calmer, dryer inside. “I know Hizashi drags you out to these things, but I still hope you had fun tonight.”

“I did.” His flat face gave you no emotional indicators.

“Good, I’m glad.” You said your goodbyes, yet your feet stayed put. Water soaked through all of your clothing. Goosebumps pricked down your arms. The rain vaguely obscured the handsome features you’ve been ogling at, wishing to call them yours.

He spun and took five steps away before you mustered, “Shouta?”

He faced you, waiting, half scowling, probably, hopefully, due to the rain.

“There’s something I’d like- There’s something I want- I want you to know. It’s okay if you don’t- If you’re not on the same page as me. I just- just…” Just say it. It was only a few words. You sucked in, preparing yourself mentally, emotionally, and physically for the absolute worst outcome, then spoke as confident as you could, “I just think you’re- I wanted to tell you that I’m-” Your heart heated as you finished, “I’m interested in you… more than a friend.”

The downpour built. You could no longer see his face. His mouth mumbled something. Unable to hear, you shuffled close, wiped water from your face, and asked him to repeat himself.

Shouta closed the tiny gap between your chests. You could only look at his mouth. This time though, you wanted to meet his eyes. It was the damn rain preventing that.

A finger lifted your chin. Instinct lowered your eyelids. The rain ceased on your face as lips connected to yours. They pressed unexpectedly sweetly, only to curl into a smirk and pull away.

You matched his smile, struggling to hold in the laugh, “A kiss in the rain, Shouta? Don’t you think it’s kinda cliche?”

“Who cares?” The hold on your chin tightened a bit and guided you back to him. All the anxiety bubbled up, popping and releasing as a giggle. Weight freed from your shoulders. You cupped his cheeks, kissing back with new excitement.

[barnes-dameron]

hi, do you think you could write a mandalorian x reader where the reader gets hypothermia? maybe din goes off on a bounty hunt for a few days and a couple days into him being gone the heating completely stops working and reader can’t fix it and she gives almost all the blankets to grogu to stay warm? cue din freaking out when he comes back to a barely conscious and freezing reader and he warms her up and it’s just cute

Frigid 

*gif not mine

Mandalorian x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: This seems very fitting for me right now since there’s a foot of snow outside of my house! The reader is gender neutral  

***

You looked out the wind shield of the Crest to watch the frantic swirls of snow that encompassed the ship. Though you couldn’t feel the cold at that moment, the sheer thought of it was enough to send a shiver down your spine, causing goosebumps to rise, and the tiny hairs on your arms to stiffen. The howling wind outside was so strong that it gave the Razor Crest a gentle shake. You hated the idea of coming to Hoth, but the Mandalorian insisted; a bounty worth a ton of credits was hiding out in a cave somewhere nearby.

Shaking your head, you descended down the ladder to be greeted with the beskar clad bounty hunter who was packing for his hunt.

“I shouldn’t be gone for long,” he said, his deep voice doing nothing to comfort you. “Keep the heater on, and you and the Child should keep warm.”

You nodded at his words, pulling your jacket closer to you at the mere thought of being cold.

“How long will you be gone?” you asked, trying to conceal your anxiety.

“A few days at most,” he replied, shoving a blaster into his holster before slinging his prepared bag over his shoulder. “But I’ll be back in no time.”

That was the last thing he said to you before departing into the white abyss, leaving you and the Child in solitude.

It was quiet in Crest, except for the hum of the heater and coos from the Child every now and then. There was little to keep you occupied, much less to distract you from worrying about the Mandalorian. There was nothing on board that interested you, and the Child couldn’t do a lot, much less talk. The only thing that kept you company was your anxieties. However, you put all those thoughts aside when it was time to eat. You heated up some pre-made soup, serving both the Child and yourself. But as soon as the hot broth reached your lips, the humming stopped.

Your heart began to quicken its pace as fear began to spawn within you. At of all the times for this to happen, why did it have to happen now? You stood up from your seat on the floor, grabbed the toolbox, and made your way to the control panel for the heater. Removing the metal paneling that was concealing the controls, you stared at the wiring and tried to make sense of the thing. You didn’t know much about this sort of thing, only how to hot wire a speeder, but you hoped that this wouldn’t be too different. You rearranged the wires, and nothing. You reprogrammed the system, and nothing. You stepped back, putting the panel back, then began your frantic search for anything that will keep you warm.

Days. That was what the Mandalorian said. He would be gone for a few days. A few days for you and the Child to survive without heat. You gathered all the blankets that you could find, all your clothing, the Mandalorian’s capes and shawls, and an old animal pelt you found in the back. The Child watched in curiosity as you began to make a nest of blankets and clothing in the small bunk. You grabbed the little guy, placing him on the make shift bed, and continued to wrap him in the Mandalorian’s capes.

“Go to sleep, little one,” you murmured. “Hopefully you’ll keep warm, and by the time you wake up Mando will be back, and we’ll be far away from here.”

You closed the door to the bunk, praying that the Child will stay warm and that the Mandalorian will come back soon. If anyone knew their way around this ship, it was him. You sighed to yourself as you pulled on more of your clothes, the layers hopefully keeping in your body heat. You made your way to the cockpit, and settled in the pilot’s seat, looking out the wind shield in hopes that a beskar clad figure would appear in the winter desert. You didn’t care how long it took, you will stay there to make sure he comes back.

Hours have passed by. The never changing scenery doing nothing to keep your interest, much less to keep you awake. You lost all feeling in your toes and fingers. You were now able to see your breath every time you breathed. You continued to shiver in place, trying to stay awake to see the Mandalorian. But the swirls from wind and snow caused your eyes to grow heavy, lulling you to sleep despite the cold that was beginning to bite your cheeks.

***

The Mandalorian dragged the body of the his dead bounty behind him as he approached the Razor Crest, but a certain dread overcame him when he entered the hull only to find the interior was just as cold as it was outside. His heart dropped as the idea of the situation washed over him. He released his hold of the corpse’s feet, the thud echoing. Din closed the hatch to the hull, and began to look for you and the Child.

He opened the door to his bunk to find a little bundle of blankets on top of his cot. Din pulled aside some of the blankets to find the little womp rat, curled in a ball with his eyes closed as he napped. Turning on the heat signature on his visor, he was relieved to see the Child warm. He nodded to himself, placing the blankets back on top of him before going to find you.

Din climbed up the ladder to the cock pit, and his heart began to sink when he laid eyes on you. You were nearly blue through the heat signature vision, and panic started to arise within the Mandalorian. He turned off the heat signature, and began to examine you.Your features lost color; your lips were pale and chapped, and eyes shut. Your body was shivering, and your teeth were chattering softly. Din shook your shoulders, and began to repeat your name, trying to will you to wake up.

Relief flooded him as he watched your eyes flutter open, though they seemed lifeless, it held the light of someone who had hope.

“What happened?” Din asked, trying to keep your attention before you go back into your sleep.

“H-h-heater,” you stammered out, your teeth chattering as you did so. “B-b-broke.”

Din nodded, before hastily ripping off the cape that rested on his shoulders. He wrapped the garment tightly around you, making sure it covered a good portion of your head so that some warmth could return to your face. It was then that he set forth towards the control panel, pulling out the tools that Kuiil gave him from what felt like ages ago. Din recounted the words and advice from the wiser being as he fixed the wiring and checked the internal structures of the heater so that it would last. When he gets back to Nevaro, he will pay a mechanic to install a new one so that this will never happen again.

Din sighed in contentment when he began to feel the haul warm up, the soft humming filling the air once more. Turning back, he returned to the cockpit to find you once again sleeping. Taking off a glove, he pressed the back his bare hand to your cheek but then instantly pulling back when feeling how cold you were. It would take some time for the whole ship to warm up, and he would have difficulty carrying you down the ladder. You were still unconscious, practically dead weight. He would have no problem with anybody else, but this was you. He didn’t want to even risk hurting you.

Weighing his limited options, Din decided to do what he thought best. One by one, the Mandalorian removed pieces of his beskar armor, setting it aside on the floor, but not removing his helmet. Once it was all laid side by side, Din dragged you off the pilot’s seat, moving you towards the door so that the heat could get to you sooner. He pressed his back to the wall, holding you close to his chest as he circled his arms around you; pressing as much of his weight on you so that you could receive some his heat as well.

Din didn’t know how long it took for you to begin to warm up or even regain consciousness. To be completely honest, he enjoyed this intimate moment with you, despite the circumstances of the whole situation. He took this time to remind himself that you were safe, alive, even though he was gone. Even though you were helpless in this situation, you remained alive.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he felt you shift under him. He turned his head to look at you; the color has returned to your face and your eyes fluttered open to reveal the light of life within them. Din brought his hand to your face once again, relieved that it was warm instead of frigid cold.

“Mando?” you whispered, your voice hoarse.

“I’m here, cyar’ika,” Din said, grabbing your hand and holding it in his glove less one. “Are you okay?”

“Better,” you replied, snuggling closer into his chest. “The Child?”

“He’s okay,” Din assured. “Sleeping soundly in the bunk.” Din stroked your hand, relishing in the soft texture that he so rarely felt. “Can you move?”

“I think I can,” you said. “I can wiggle my toes.”

“That’s good,” Din affirmed. “Do you want to get up?”

“Not yet,” you answered. “Can we stay like this for a bit longer?”

“Whatever you want,” Din replied.

He leaned his head back to rest on the wall behind him, allowing you to get closer to him; resting your head on his collarbone, right underneath his chin. If he were to lean forward, he was sure to feel the top of your head beneath his helmet. But this wasn’t about him, it was about you. He wound his arms tighter around you, but still held your hand, tracing patterns on the back of it.

“Hmmmm,” you hummed, causing Din to draw his attention to you.

“What?” he questioned, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Nothing,” you replied. “I just never really realized how warm you are.”

Din felt you squeeze his hand tighter, but he pulled away for just a moment. He positioned it so that your fingers would interlock with his, palm to palm. It was this moment that Din would cherish forever: holding your hand with you so close to him in the solitude of the ship with the heater humming in the back and the harsh cold outside.

Taglist: @tangledlove27 @absurdthirst @caswinchester2000 @16boyfriends-and-me

[moonlight-prose]

aw heck i'm back! “things would be so much easier if we were honest with each other.“ & “look me in the eyes and tell me you love me.“ with loki? an angst to fluff confession, mayhaps?? i'm excited for anything. i love uuuuu

NEPTUNE

a/n: this has been in my inbox for sooooo long i'm sorry! i can't remember which prompt list this was honestly. for this i went heavy on the angst which i hope is okay, but i did manage to add in some fluff! well...i tried. hopefully you like it darling!

it's been awhile since i wrote loki so if it's all wrong then idk.

summary: pain is inevitable when it comes to love, but this was far too much for you to handle. until...it wasn't.

word count: 1.5k+

pairing: loki x reader (i don't think i identify gender)

warnings: not explicit, so much fucking angst, angst, angst, and look at that even more angst.

Life would be so much easier if you weren’t in love with a god. Or at least that’s what you told yourself over and over again, trying to justify the feeling that continued to squeeze your heart each day. A never-ending ache that tore through your body like a whirlwind, breaking you further than you believed it would. How funny that you were the one who had been afraid to say those three little words.

You’d told him you loved him. Three months ago.

Normally you wouldn’t have gotten upset over the fact that he never replied; that he had stared at you with an expression you couldn’t read. Except then the deception set in. Lies became a second language that he spoke to you and eventually it became too hard to even remain in the same home with him.

The relationship he offered you was not the one you currently resided in and it broke your heart to realize that. What more could you give? What more would be possible for him to finally understand how much hurt he was putting you through? Questions that would hold no answers, continued to rush through your mind the longer you stood in the kitchen. Your cup of tea had gone cold three hours ago.

It was the echo of the door opening that brought you back to the present, shutting the door on everything you’d been processing.

“My love I-” He froze, eyes falling to the suitcase that sat by your feet and how you still hadn’t turned around to face him yet. “Is something the matter?”

A plan that you’d been concocting for months suddenly felt so transparent. You felt so transparent. Could he not see the way your heart was only held together by a few strings? Was your pain hidden that well? Wiping at the tears that fell down your cheeks you turned to face him, eyes red from the incessant amount of crying you’d endured as you packed a single bag. The rest of your things would be too hard to take with you.

They reminded you of the man who still hadn’t entered the room fully. His coat open and unbuttoned as a sprinkling of snow dusted his shoulder covered by the black wool fabric.

“When you left Asgard…” you began, already feeling your throat begin to close up as the tears filled your eyes once more.

“What’s going on?”

“Loki,” you sighed, shutting your eyes for a moment. Just to forget the pain that surged through you as he stepped closer. “I’m done.”

“Why do you have a bag?” He moved closer until he was mere inches away within reaching distance. Oh how you wished you could fall into his arms that once felt so comforting to the touch. “Done? I don’t understand.”

“I can’t keep pretending that I’m not hurting!” The words spilled free quicker than you expected them too, but they had to be said eventually. You’d rather tell him the truth now so he could understand what the past few months did to you. How it broke your soul with each moment, each lie, each unloved look he sent your way.

“My love,” he breathed, shifting closer and raising his hand to your cheek with a hesitation he’d never held in his body before. “Tell me what I can do to fix this.”

Begging, pleading, bargaining. These were things that Loki refused to do in order to live his life, but with you...he’d do whatever it took to get you to smile again. To wipe the pain free from your expression along with the tears that continued to stream down your face.

“Things would be so much easier if we were honest with each other.“ Your eyes met his, the crystalline blue that you’d grown to love. Just as beautiful as any winter day, but today they were clouded by the anguish that you felt. “I’m tired of the lies, of waiting for you to return to me. You left Asgard to be with me Loki and yet I feel like you regret that choice.”

“I would never regret choosing you,” he replied with so much steadiness in his voice you nearly believed him.

“Don’t lie to me.”

His hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your head back in order to look him in the eyes completely. “Lies are not something I tell you. To anyone else, yes, but you...never you.”

“Then why - why have you been doing just that to me for months?”

“I-”

Pulling away you scrubbed at your eyes, grabbing the suitcase and preparing to step around him, but his arm blocked your way. “Let me go Loki.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to!” Shoving his arm away you headed for the door before something latched onto your wrist. A piece of his magic that you didn’t like one bit. Duplicating himself to keep you in the same room while he made his way over to you; before the trick would make you smile, grow warm at the thought that he couldn’t bear you leaving.

Only now you feel cold.

“When have I lied to you? Tell me so I can rectify that situation.”

His insistence began to tip you over the edge slightly until you were bursting at the seams, the anger, pain, sadness, it all accrued with each passing day. Until you could no longer hold it in any longer. Turning to face him you set him with a glare that burned straight right through his body, searing his soul with your fury.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you love me.”

He stopped, mouth open and eyes wide. “What-”

“If you’ve never lied to me. Then tell me you love me. Tell me that every moment spent with you these past few months has not been a lie!” You willed your mouth to close, to keep your emotions to yourself, but how could you? When the pain was overflowing, spilling itself onto the kitchen floor before you.

The silence was deafening as seconds slowed and there you were. Back in a situation that broke you too much to remain in. Letting out a shaky breath you blinked away the tears, nodding in understanding before turning back towards the door. Ready to leave him behind; to give up the fight that was loving him.

“You were asleep.” You stopped two feet away from the entrance. “The first time I said it to you was when you were asleep.”

The echo of his footsteps hit your ears and yet you couldn’t move. Not when he pressed himself behind you, reaching down to entwine his fingers with yours and slowly take the suitcase out of your hand. You wanted to fight him on it, push him away, but it was no use. He’d render you immobile with a single confession.

“It was last month,” he whispered against your skin, cheek pressed against your head. “I had never seen anyone look so beautiful and all I could think about was how I would never want another sight in my life but you. So I kissed you and said those words my love.”

“Loki-”

“Let me finish,” he breathed, voice thick with emotion. His forehead resting on the back of your head. “I love you, my beautiful sunshine. I have loved you since I saw you the first time standing and watching the ocean waves.” You remembered that day. How you’d nearly hit him with your bike as he was walking down the street in a black suit. “I will love you every day and you may walk out this door if you wish. You can leave, but know that I did not lie to you. I will never do such a thing. Not to the person who holds my heart in their hands.”

You should have walked away, because you knew it was already too late. Except you felt the way your heart slowly began to put itself back together. How his words, his touch kept you stable. Turning around you gripped the back of his neck and dragged his lips to yours in a kiss that made him stumble until you were pressed against the door. His hands immediately gripped whatever part of you he could reach fast enough.

“I love you,” you whispered, breathing heavily as his lips trailed down towards the opening of your shirt. “Forever.”

He smiled, those crystalline eyes meeting yours once more with an emotion you’d seen before but could never identify. Only now as he whispered his love into your skin and held you close did you realize that the look had been love. All this time. Gripping him close you felt him begin to walk backwards until it was his back pressed against a wall. The movement nearly shook the picture frames off the nails.

“My love,” he murmured. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” you replied, smiling back at him. “Never again. Just as long as you don’t lie to me.”

“How can I, when you read me better than anyone alive?”

Nudging your nose with his, you kissed him quickly, fingers twining with his again. “I would hope so.”

“I’m yours.” Hands pulled you behind him gently, leading you to the bedroom you’d made into yours and his. “Forever.”

“As am I,” you said, allowing him to prove his love to you as many times as he thought possible. Until the sun came up and another day started anew.

[geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde]

A Series of Firsts

Pssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst

@kuripon

I wrote you a thing 😘

The biggest of thanks to the most darling @jaskiersvalley for tearing this apart and telling me how to put it back together correctly <3

This was written for The Witcher Bog Mini Exchange! A little exchange we did within our Witcher Discord! (I also forgot the meaning of the word mini and now this is 4k - after I cut out 2 plot points 😬)

So here is some fluffy and soft Geraskier goodness, rated T

-

Geralt sighed as he watched Jaskier trip over another rock in the road. In the daylight. On a clear day. The man really was a disaster, tripping over nothing simply because he just wasn’t paying attention.

Winter was approaching and they had been planning on splitting up at the crossroads ahead, Jaskier to head for Oxenfurt and Geralt to head for Kaer Morhen. Normally, when the two split for winter, they were close enough to Oxenfurt for Geralt to be able to leave the man there, but this year they had been nearly on the other side of the continent.

Geralt wouldn’t be able to get him to Oxenfurt safely and then make it to Kaer Morhen before the pass froze over, though, so they had agreed to split up.

Geralt wasn’t convinced that Jaskier would be able to make it to Oxenfurt by himself.

Sure, the pair had split up over the two or so years that they had been travelling together but typically Geralt left Jaskier in a city where he was relatively protected and could find safe travels with troupes or caravans should he leave for elsewhere. But here, in the middle of the road, Geralt wasn’t feeling overly confident about leaving the bard to his own devices.

He supposed he could escort Jaskier to Oxenfurt, then make his way to Novigrad and winter there, he had friends in the city. The biggest problem was how expensive it was and how few and far between contracts were in the winter months.

Geralt watched as Jaskier wagged a finger at the rock that had tripped him with amusement, still wracking his brain for a good solution to getting the man to Oxenfurt safely. Although, Geralt did suppose there was a chance Jaskier would be willing to travel with him for the winter, to Kaer Morhen. It certainly would be an adventure for the man, and he loved those. And Geralt wouldn’t truly mind the man’s company over the winter. There were a lot of tomes and poetry books which were thought lost to time that were still in the library at Kaer Morhen and Jaskier, always boasting about how much of a learned man he was, would surely love to see them.

Yes, it would be a good solution. Geralt would be able to keep an eye on the man and know he was safe, he would get his company over winter, which was truly no hardship, and Jaskier might find the idea fun. He supposed he could at least suggest it.

Clearing his throat, Geralt interrupted Jaskier’s rant about how rude it was to trip people, “Jaskier, would you like to accompany me this winter?”

Jaskier turned around to face Geralt, his mouth wide and a confused look on his face, “Accompany you?”

“Yes. To Kaer Morhen.”

Jaskier opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking rather like a fish, Geralt thought.

“You want… me, to go with you? To your secret witcher keep? For the winter?”

“If you would like to join me, yes.”

Jaskier was staring at Geralt, his blue eyes shining brilliant and bright in the sunlight. He looked confused, not an expression Geralt often associated with Jaskier, the man was rather quick witted, his mind seemed to race on even faster than his mouth sometimes.

But it seemed Geralt had stumped him.

“You don’t have to if you don’t like. I just thought you might like to see the keep. And there are some books in the library that I think you would find interesting.”

“Some books you think I would find interesting?” Jaskier asked, sounding faint.

“Yes.”

Jaskier blinked a few times rapidly, looking around as if trying to find a solution for his obvious confusion before settling his gaze back on Geralt and shrugging, “If you’re offering then, yes. I would love to accompany you.”

Geralt nodded, “Alright then.”

And it was settled.

Jaskier still looked confused.

-

Jaskier felt his mouth open as he stared in awe at the massive keep in front of him. He had been astounded as they reached the gate and then again when they reached another entry way and now, actually facing the keep, he was amazed.

It was absolutely stunning. Crumbling in places, sure. Maybe a bit worse for wear in other places as well, but truly just gorgeous.

“I thought you were cold?”

Fuck. He was, he really was, and he had wanted nothing more than to run inside the keep at the first opportunity and plant himself firmly in the middle of a fire, directly on the coals, but when the stone keep had appeared in front of him, stealing his breath from his lungs, he had forgotten all about the ache of his ears and the fact that his nose had long since gone numb.

But Geralt was right, he needed warmth and soon. He could come back out and stare at the glory of Kaer Morhen later, when he wasn’t about to die from hypothermia and lose a couple toes to frostbite.

When Geralt pushed open the doors of the keep, Jaskier felt the warmth wash over him in a comforting wave and he hurried behind Geralt to hopefully find the source of said heat.

Looking around in amazement, Jaskier’s eyes danced over the beautiful, if dilapidated, tapestries and murals decorating the giant walls of the main hall of the keep. It was glorious. Everywhere Jaskier looked, there was something new to feast his eyes upon, and every time he looked back at somewhere he had already studied, he found new details.

As much hesitance and confusion as he had felt taking Geralt’s offer to join him for winter, Jaskier didn’t regret his decision for a moment. If he hadn’t gotten to see this then… well, he supposed he wouldn’t know what he was missing, but now that he did know, he would never be able to go back. The history of the keep, literally written on the walls, be it in intricate murals or damages from the attacks, were screaming at Jaskier, begging to be immortalized in song. He could see the music dancing through the air as he looked around.

“Jaskier?”

Jaskier jumped, looking to where Geralt was staring at him, “Sorry… it’s just… amazing in here! Geralt, why didn’t you tell me how amazing it is?”

Geralt looked around quickly, a frown on his face, “It’s just… home?”

Jaskier felt himself soften at Geralt’s words, “Yes, it is, darling. And I’m very happy to be here. Now, if you could kindly escort me to the fire, I would like to lay down in it.”

Geralt huffed out a small laugh and Jaskier could see the corners of his mouth twitch up, “Come on, it’ll be warmest in the kitchen and you can sit as close to the fire as you dare.”

“Right in the center, then!”

“I don’t know if I’m feeling roast bard for dinner tonight.”

Jaskier laughed loudly, his shoulders shaking as he followed Geralt to the keep. His laughter bounced off the walls, echoing around them.

Geralt had been right, the kitchen, a smaller room right off of the main hall, was certainly warmer, and Jaskier was able to pull a bench right up to the fire where he held his hands and feet dangerously close to the blissful heat.

“You’ll get blisters,” Geralt commented wryly as he shuffled around the kitchen, getting bowls out as he messed with a large pot. It smelled delicious, whatever it was. Jaskier couldn’t quite place it, though it smelled herbal.

Geralt filled the bowls and walked over to sit next to Jaskier on the bench, holding out one for him, “Here, eat this to help warm you.”

Taking the bowl with a grateful smile, Jaskier wasted no time digging in. He had never tasted anything quite like it before. It seemed to be a stew, certainly the heartiest one Jaskier had ever had, filled with venison, potatoes, carrots, and a number of herbs he was certain he had never seen before. It was delicious.

“Mmm, who made this?” He asked between bites.

“Vesemir.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Jaskier kept eating. Geralt didn’t talk much of the other witchers of Kaer Morhen, though he had mentioned them all a few times here and there. Jaskier had always gotten the impression that Vesemir had become something of a caretaker to Geralt, though he wasn’t sure exactly how they related to each other. But Geralt spoke of the other man as if he were a mentor, so Jaskier had always suspected Geralt had learned a lot from him.

If only Geralt would learn to cook a stew like this, Jaskier would never feel the need to spend coin in another tavern for dinner again.

-

The sound of the kitchen door closing startled Jaskier, and he spun around on his bench to see another witcher, grey haired and kind faced, standing just inside the kitchen, staring at Geralt meaningfully. Geralt shrugged.

Golden eyes fixed on Jaskier.

“Hello,” Jaskier said, suddenly feeling hesitant, “I’m Jaskier.”

“The bard.” It wasn’t a question. An acknowledgement, more like. Maybe even an accusation, Jaskier couldn’t really tell.

“Ahh, yes. That would be me.”

The man nodded, “I’m Vesemir. Welcome to Kaer Morhen.”

“Oh! You made the stew!”

Vesemir raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“It’s delicious!” Jaskier declared, gesturing to his third bowl, “Truly the best stew I’ve ever had. You’ll have to teach me how you do it, Geralt certainly can’t accomplish anything that tastes so good.”

Vesemir approached the table and sat across from Jaskier, both ignoring Geralt’s indignant grunt as the pair began to discuss why Vesemir’s stew was so delicious and why Geralt’s never seemed to measure up.

-

Jaskier laughed loudly, his head thrown back in glee, as Vesemir told another story about the havoc a young Geralt would cause and his subsequent punishments. Jaskier had been nervous to meet the older witcher, worried he wouldn’t be welcomed into the keep despite Geralt’s insistence he would be.

He needn’t have been worried.

Vesemir proved not only to be incredibly inviting but also happy to have a guest, particularly one gifted in music.

“I’ve dallied,” he admitted finally, after a long conversation with Jaskier about the best qualities in lute strings.

Jaskier couldn’t help but grin as he held his lute out to Vesemir, “Go on then, show me what you’ve got!” 

“I couldn’t.”

“You can and you will!” Jaskier gestured to the lute again.

Steady hands gripped the lute, holding it with care, making Jaskier smile, “Alright, play us something!” 

In only a few moments, Vesemir seemed to have fallen back into an old skill as he picked at the lute strings expertly. Jaskier wouldn’t say that the older witcher’s skills were comparable to his own but they were rather better than many other professionals Jaskier could think of.

Like the troubadour of Cidaris, for instance.

The sound of the lute resonated through the kitchen and Jaskier took a moment to appreciate it, appreciate sitting back and enjoying the music instead of being the one to provide it.

An idea popping into his head, Jaskier spun around to look at Geralt where he sat by the fire, watching the other two.

Jaskier held out his hand, beckoning the witcher, “Dance with me?”

“I don’t dance,”

Jaskier scoffed, “Don’t give me that, Geralt. Come on, dance with me!”

Geralt shook his head, “No.”

Whining, Jaskier strode over to Geralt with a pleading expression on his face, “Please, Geralt! I never get to dance, I’m always the one playing. Please, please, please.”

“Will it shut you up?”

“Never!” Jaskier smiled brilliantly as he threaded his fingers through Geralt’s and tugged, urging the witcher to join him.

And Geralt, much to Jaskier’s utter delight, did so.

“Now I’m sure you aren’t overly practiced in the art of dance, but you can’t be too terribly bad at it.”

“I wouldn’t know, never done it.”

“Never… wait you’ve never danced? Any dance? Ever?”

“No. Who would want to dance with me?”

“Well I certainly do.” Jaskier felt an indignant anger swell up inside of him, angry at the world all of a sudden, bitter that it would treat such an amazing man so poorly.

“You’re strange and have no self preservation. It’s a miracle you’re still alive.”

Spluttering, Jaskier floundered for a moment, shocked at the accusation, but just before he could start ranting, Vesemir switched tunes, playing something lively and good for dancing.

Choosing to ignore Geralt’s slight at him, for now, he grabbed Geralt firmly by the waist and maneuvered him into position, “Just do what I do, my dearest witcher, and you’ll be a dancer in no time.”

Geralt rolled his eyes but still went along with it, his fondness for Jaskier showing in his eyes, his every movement. It warmed Jaskier through far better than the fire and stew had. It was a simmering warmth Jaskier felt every time the witcher proved his affections. Proved they truly were friends.

Geralt never did so with words but actions, as they say, speak much louder than words and Geralt was certainly a man of action.

Unable to believe his luck, Jaskier sent off silent prayer to Melitele. He felt a thrill run through him as he gripped Geralt by the waist. Geralt in his arms was truly a dream he had never thought would come true. He wouldn’t fool himself into thinking that this was more that it was, that Geralt felt the same as he did, but he would still enjoy the friendly embrace, he would give himself that.

Jaskier had, of course, been right. As he led Geralt through the steps, the witcher picked them up quickly, his training in footwork for fighting translating perfectly to dancing.

And, if you were to ask Jaskier, he would say Geralt’s first dance went rather well.

As the song came to a close, Jaskier took a chance, swinging Geralt around and dipping him. The only sign of surprise Jaskier could see was a slight widening of Geralt’s eyes, but he still allowed him to do as he pleased, pulling him up out of the dip, cradled close in Jaskier’s arms.

And then they were kissing.

Jaskier wasn’t sure who moved first, though it must have been him, surely. All he knew for certain was that their mouths were pressed together, open in a filthy kiss, and then the warmth of the witcher was gone.

Jaskier watched, a forlorn feeling settling over him, as Geralt strode swiftly from the kitchen, the door slamming behind him.

Turning slowly, Jaskier looked to Vesemir, who merely quirked an amused eyebrow.

Jaskier groaned, “Bollocks.”

-

Jaskier should sit, really. With the way he was pacing, he would wear a hole into the bearskin rug thrown on the floor of Geralt’s room. He should sit in a chair by the fire that Vesemir had politely started for him after showing him the way to Geralt’s room. He should curl up and do some writing or reading or anything to keep his mind occupied, distracted.

All he could think about was the kiss.

Jaskier still wasn’t sure what happened, how it started, but it was truly everything he had hoped for, for… far too long. And the more he thought about it, focused on the moment, the less confident he was that he had attacked Geralt with his mouth and the more he wondered if it hadn’t been mutual. Geralt had certainly pressed them together even tighter as if it had been.

But was he overthinking it? Was he putting emotions where there should be none. Creating something that didn’t exist. Was he simply projecting his desires where they were unwanted?

Maybe he would know the answer if Geralt hadn’t run off. Like he did every time something serious happened.

Jaskier knew, had known from very early on, that Geralt struggled with processing his emotions. He wasn't sure if it was an issue of how Geralt was raised or perhaps hearing a life time of hateful people saying he had no emotions or if the mutagens he was subjected to really did affect his emotions in some way, or maybe some combination therein, but he did know that Geralt struggled. And that was okay, truly. Jaskier didn’t mind. He saw the way Geralt put in the effort to communicate with him, though it wasn’t ever really with his words. But he did put in the effort and that’s what Jaskier had always focused on.

Now, though, he was rather frustrated. If Geralt would just stay when things got tense, take a moment to calm down and then use his words, then maybe things would be easier on the both of them.

Maybe-

Maybe Jaskier wouldn’t trip on the edge of a bearskin rug and knock his head against a table.

Groaning, Jaskier sat up slowly and cradled his head in his hands. He could already feel a bump forming, the spot throbbing dully. Of course he would manage to hurt himself when he was getting all fired up, ready to confront Geralt.

And of course that would be the moment Geralt decided to walk in the room.

“Jaskier?” Geralt rushed over to Jaskier’s seated position, kneeling on the ground beside him.

A gentle hand pulled Jaskier’s away from his head and Jaskier whimpered as it was exposed to the air of the room.

“Jaskier are you okay? How do you feel?”

Jaskier winced, taking stock of his injuries. His knee felt rather bruised and his arm certainly ached some but it seemed that his head had taken the brunt of the damage. “I think I’m alright.”

Geralt made a tutting noise, one Jaskier had only heard him use when something was wrong with Roach. Any anger that he might still have held left him with that single small noise. He knew Geralt cared about him, he knew that without a singular doubt, so really there was no point in getting angry. He just needed Geralt to talk to him.

Jaskier looked into Geralt’s eyes, the concern reflected in the brilliant amber nearly overwhelming. “I’m okay,” he said, taking hold of Geralt’s hand, “thank you for being concerned. Can we talk?”

Furrowing his brow, Geralt disregarded the question, “Are you sure you’re okay? I should get something to put on your forehead.”

Shaking his head slowly, trying not to make it ache worse, Jaskier broached the subject again “It can wait. But we should talk.”

Geralt nodded, a resolute look on his face.

-

Geralt should have known that this would be a bad idea, inviting the bard to winter with him. Sure, it was an excellent way to keep an eye on him, make sure he was safe and sound, but it put Geralt at risk of revealing feelings, both to himself and Jaskier, that he would rather keep locked away.

He thought his heart would burst from his chest when he saw the amazement shining in Jaskier’s eyes as he took in Geralt’s home. He had pleased him, given Jaskier that coveted thrill of wonderment he always spoke so highly of. And then Jaskier had laughed, bright and loud, the sound echoing through the main hall of the keep. Geralt would never be able to get that sound out of his head. It warmed him, made his stomach flip and flop in strange ways.

It was terrifying.

Throughout supper, watching Jaskier get comfortable in his home, watching him and Vesemir bond, Geralt couldn’t help but let his thoughts stray. It wasn’t something meant to be, Geralt knew that, knew he wasn’t destined to spend his life alongside someone, to have a family outside of his fellow witchers. It was a miracle he had managed to travel with Jaskier and enjoy his company for as long as he had.

No one really wanted to spend their time with a witcher. No one except one really strange, clingy, chatty, loud mouthed bard. Whom Geralt loved.

Fuck.

He knew better than to admit this, admitting it made it real, gave him thoughts best left alone. Geralt did his best to lock down the feelings as Jaskier offered Vesemir his lute. Steeling his will, Geralt did he best to be resolute in his decision, determined to stay strong and never admit this weakness. And then Jaskier turned to him, eyes wide and pleading, and asked him to dance. That one look, that simple request, was all it took to break him.

Next thing he knew he was spinning around, held in Jaskier’s arms, in his home, and he felt content. Safe.

It was too much and not enough and then they were kissing. Geralt wasn’t sure who started it, but he did know he leaned in greedily, clutching at Jaskier tightly, unwilling to let him go. But he wasn’t allowed this. His life, his destiny, would never allow this happiness. This moment would turn sour with time. Even if Jaskier did want it now, he wouldn’t forever. He would grow tired of the witcher’s life, grow tired of the Path, grow old and weary of Geralt’s wandering ways.

He couldn’t have this.

So, he ran.

It maybe wasn’t the most responsible decision, and maybe it would do more damage, but it could be no worse than staying. Staying and looking into Jaskier’s eyes again and crumbling even more, falling hopelessly headfirst into the love he knew he felt.

That he knew he shouldn’t feel.

He left the keep and the courtyard behind, climbing up to the old bastion, jumping up on its now crumbling walls, ignoring the wail of the ghosts below. And there he sat, staring into the distance, slowly growing colder and colder, and the whole time all he could think of was Jaskier.

Geralt had never needed. He never wanted for anything. He never yearned.

And yet…

Jaskier’s eyes and his smile and the way he strummed his lute thoughtfully when composing and the way he danced around carefree and happy whenever given the opportunity and the way he worried endlessly over every injury Geralt may face, from mundane scratches to gaping wounds.

Geralt loved him. Had loved him for some time. And now, in his home, where he felt safest, he couldn’t hide it anymore. Not from Jaskier and not from himself.

Fuck.

-

He knew Jaskier was waiting for him, he could smell his scent, chamomile and honey, coming from his room. He could hear Jaskier’s heartbeat. Faster than it should be.

Speeding his strides, Geralt threw open the door to his room to see Jaskier slumped over on the ground, his hands clutching at his head, his face screwed up in pain. Geralt could feel a lump in his throat, the worry he felt for Jaskier instant and overwhelming. He rushed to the bard’s side, taking Jaskier’s hand in his as he inspected the knot forming on his head.

And Jaskier insisted he was fine, deflecting the injury and instead asking Geralt if they could talk.

Geralt knew they needed to. They probably should have had this discussion, and many others, a long, long time ago. But Geralt didn’t like talking and Jaskier had always humored him.

He nodded.

“I’m sorry I kissed you. I shouldn’t have. Not like that. I should have made sure you were interested first.”

“Jask-”

“No, let me say this, Geralt. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time now, I’m sure you know that. I’ve not kept my attraction to you a secret for some time now.”

Geralt… hadn’t known. Jaskier flirted with him, of course, he flirted with everyone. Geralt had never thought much of it.

“But I think there’s more to this than me being… over excited and kissing you when I shouldn’t have. I think we need to discuss our feelings for each other.”

“I agree.”

Jaskier’s eyebrows raised in surprise before he winced slightly. “Well… in that case, shall I start?”

Geralt nodded.

“Alright then, Geralt, I love you. I love you dearly. With every bit of me. And I want to spend the rest of my life travelling with you.”

Geralt’s breath caught in his throat. “I love you, too, Jaskier.”

“You do?” Jaskier asked softly.

Geralt smiled, cupping Jaskier’s cheek, “I’ve never said that to someone before. I’ve never wanted to until now.”

“I’ve never meant it, not until now.”

[pedrosbisch]

My Sun and Stars

Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x Reader w/ nickname

Chapter 1- Call Signs

Chapter 2

Summary:You go out on a Friday night with your buddies, and meet Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia for the first time Rated M for Mature themes, but would prefer the fic stayed 18+ since it gets a little spicy later 👌

AN: Hello everyone! This is my very first fanfic I’m posting, and I hope it’s up to par 😅 I’ve been delaying posting it for so long but I’m so excited to finally get this posted and starting this journey.

TW! Alcohol, Slight Violence. Please let me know if I need to add anything else!

It was just another Friday at the bar after a dull day at work. Your friend Will invited you out for drinks with him and a couple of his buddies to celebrate a friend coming home.

“Where is this guy anyway, aren’t we supposed to be celebrating him?” You ask, frustrated by the fact the person they were celebrating was nearly an hour late.

“Pope’s always late, he runs on his own time. But he’ll be here.” Will took another sip of his beer before glancing toward the door.

“He better be, I can’t stay late. I have to go back home to Maria, I promised her I’d help with the baby after I got back tonight.” Retorted Frankie.

“Speak of the devil.”

Up walked a man with curly hair and sun kissed skin. He's undoubtedly handsome, smiling before he claps a hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

“What’s up cabróns? Sorry I’m late, there was traffic coming from the airport and then there was this girl out in the parking lot who had this ass that-“

“Ah-hem.” You clear your throat, hoping to cut off whatever vulgar story he was about to tell.

“Pope this is Hail. We met through the VA, thought I’d invite her out with us.”

“Hail? Cute, what’s that short for, Hailey?” He pours himself a mug of beer, barely looking your way.

“Hail Mary.”

“That’s a hell of a name. Parents were religious huh?”

Benny snickers and Frankie leans back, preparing for the shitshow to unfold.

“Call sign. Hail Mary, as in the prayer most people say before they’re about to die; A last ditch effort. For a man whose nickname is Pope, seems like you’d know better”

“Oh baby, people call me Pope because I bring them closer to god, whether it’s out in the field or in bed.” He side eyes Benny and they fist bump behind your head.

“Classy.” You roll your eyes and look over to Will who pinches the bridge of his nose and mouths 'sorry' over to you.

“Anyways- glad to have you back safe man, but I really gotta go. Wife’s gonna kill me if I don’t help with the baby like I promised.” Frankie fixes his hat and slaps Pope on the back before walking out.

“Yeah man me too, I’ve got my fight tomorrow and I already got too drunk waiting for you. You gotta come though!” Benny says as he wobbles standing up.

Will quickly stands after and steadies him propping him up on his shoulder. “I better drive Benny home, what about you Hail? You need a ride?”

“I’m alright, I’ll probably stay a little longer. I need to decompress from work.”

“Whatever works for you darlin, text me to let me know when you get home safe.” He says goodbye and shakes Pope’s hand before walking away with his brother.

“And yous better be coming to my match tomorrow!! I need my Hail Mary!!” Benny yelled with his head flopping back and forth.

“I’ll be there Benny.” You punch his ass and send them off, leaving you entirely alone with the menace of a man you’ve just met.

“So uh— you and the Miller brothers seem close.” Pope eyes you up and down, clearly trying to figure out what he’s missed while he was god knows where.

“Sure. Like Will said, we met through the VA. We’ve been pretty close since then.”

“I take it you’re a vet then, with your call sign and all?”

Was he actually trying to get to know you? “No, my dad served. 20 years in the Marine Corps, I just drive him to the meetings. He tried dragging me in one day to set me up with Will.”

“So you two are together then?” He looked up quizzically.

“Ha! If he’s interested he sure doesn’t show it. Plus I don’t think he’s really my type.”

“What is your type then?” Pope raises an eyebrow and a wide grin spreads across his face.

“Definitely not a man some of whose first words around me were ‘there was a girl who had this ass’”

“So you don’t like me because I appreciate the female form?”

“Ha! I don’t like you because you make assumptions. Like how you just assumed that you could get me to go home with you.”

“I’m offended you think so lowly of me Princesa, and how are you so sure I want to you to sleep with me?”

“Don’t call me Princesa, and because if you didn’t want to— you’d be off chasing that girl with the ass down. But you’re here, talking to me about if I’m taken and what my type is. Now if you excuse me, I’m going home.” You gulp down the rest of your beer before grabbing your purse and speed walking to the door.

Pope rushes through the crowds and grabs your arm before you raise it to hail a taxi. You break from his grasp and slam your palm into his chest before realizing it was him.

“Agh! So you’re not all bark after all.” He rubs his shoulder and winces. “Listen, I truly am sorry for this bad first impression. But I don’t think Will would be happy with me if I didn’t at least offer you a ride home in your inebriated state.”

You roll you eyes before you look in your purse and realize all your cash went toward tipping the bartender; You sigh and toss your head back in defeat. “Fine. But you’re not coming in for a nightcap.”

He leads you to his Jeep and you buckle yourself in as he pulls out of the bar parking. You punch your address into his GPS and lean your head against the cool window as the music plays softly. The alcohol hits you all at once like a tidal wave, and your head starts to spin.

You’re thankful the ride home is quiet, and even more so when the car comes to a stop. The car door opens letting the fresh night air hits your face waking you slightly.

“Can I at least walk you to your door?” Says Pope, but this time his tone is different. It’s not assertive or defensive, almost like he cares you get home safe. And he has this look on his face, what is that look? You’re too drunk to tell.

"That would be great, actually." He walks beside you, careful not to touch you unless you expressly needed help. You were doing better than expected, swaying slightly and bumping arms as you walked side by side. You were about to send Pope off, all up until you came to foot of the stairwell.

“Shit. You can go, really I’ll be fine. You’ll be here all night watching me climb these stupid things. Without an ounce of of dignity, I may add.”

He chuckled as you planted your palms on the stairs and began to crawl up them like an overgrown toddler.

“I have all night to help you up the stairs Hail, but I’ll have to touch you. If that’s ok?”

Why did those words send fire through your cheeks? ‘But I’ll have to touch you.’ You quietly nod your head in defeat and feel two strong arms lift you from under your knees and behind your back. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck and press your head to his chest. The world is spinning and you’re doing anything to anchor yourself, even if it’s to him.

You turn your head and shut your eyes, taking deep even breaths into his chest doing everything in your power to calm yourself. ‘Focus’, you tell yourself. Focus on literally anything but the spinning. You take another deep breath, but this time you take a second to appreciate the scent of Pope’s cologne. It smells expensive, but sooo nice. You hear his heart beating, or—wait. Is it yours? Your mind continues to wander further as footsteps echo off the stairwell. His arms feel so nice, maybe you could invite him… No, you decide. You won’t just be another drunken conquest.

You reach the second floor of your apartment complex and tell him your door number. He steadily places you down, and keeps a steady hand on your back as you dig out your keys. You open the door and catch yourself on the frame turning yourself to face Pope.

“Thank you for taking me home, and for carrying me up the stairs. This is so embarrassing, I swear this never happens.”

“Shh, it’s alright Princesa. Drink some water and get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow at Benny’s match. I’ll bring my best manners, and hopefully we can forget about today.” He gets you a glass of water and places it next to your couch where you ungracefully plopped yourself down.

“Mmhh. Pope?” You reach, as if trying to reach him without knowing where his is.

“Santiago. My real name is Santiago, but you can call me Santi if you want.”

Your brain is far gone, blacked out in a half asleep state with no filter attached to your mouth. “Well then Santiago, thank you again for bringing me home. Sorry it wasn’t in the context you wanted. Next time if you want it to go more smoothly, ask me to dinner. You smell too good to say no.”

He chuckles and looks at you with a soft expression before locking your door behind him as he makes his way back to his car. For the rest of the night, he replays the way you said his name in his head and makes a mental note to wear the same cologne again tomorrow night.

[writer-k-pop]

Confessions

널 잃으면 내 자신이 싫어질 것 같으니까. Because I think I would hate myself if I lost you.

Description: Jeonghan comes to you to be consoled and while cleaning his wounds, his guard drops and he confesses the feelings he’s been harboring for a while.  Warnings: Swearing, blood and cuts Genre: Angst, Fluff, MafiaBoss!Jeonghan x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.9k

Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

The club's music echoes through the walls of the private room but it's become so familiar that I can easily ignore it. I sip from the champagne flute and let the small amount of bubbles tumble down my throat before smiling and placing a hand on the shoulder of the man who sits very close to me.

"So, you were telling me about your work?" I ask, putting in extra effort to seem extremely interested.

The man, Henry, sighs and man spreads a little wider. "Ugh, I don't particular like the line of work or my boss but the pay is too good. I can live so comfortably with it."

"Comfortable indeed." I smile sweetly, lean in closer, and rest my legs over one of his. My skin tight dress twists and I know I'm going to have to fix it when I stand up.

His hand rests on top of my thigh and my sense heighten in case he gets any ideas.

"We just finished an awfully big project and I think my hands gained two pounds of muscle from all the typing I had to do." Henry comments while flexing his other hand out in front of us.

I gasp lightly in faked astonishment. "I think you may be right. So muscle-y hands and a nice pay check are your rewards for working through a shitty job." I say and lean my head down on the hand that's on his shoulder.

His shoulders shake with a chuckle, "Now if I could find a nice girl to settle down with, that would make it perfect." He says with a sigh but there's an underlying question that I know is coming if I don't respond properly.

"You'll find her. But I don't think you're going to find her here." I say, the music still pounding against the walls, "You know the rules."

"Yeah, yeah. This place and all its rules." Henry rolls his eyes, "No touching above or below certain points. I can't order drinks for you. I can't leave the premises with you. I can't blah, blah, blah."

I glower at him slightly but he ignores me.

"Rules are meant to be broken, or is your boss really that stuck up?" He continues and I can feel the anger bubble up in my chest.

"If you didn't like the rules, you didn't have to agree to them." I remind him, "And you should be careful with what you say. You know who runs this club."

Before he can say anything back, the door to the room flies opens and my body untangles itself from Henry in a second. A floppy brown haired man walks in, the music from the club following him and invading the previously quiet room. It's Jeonghan, the owner of the club and the leader of the group that runs this part of town.

Jeonghan stumbles towards the other side of the U-shaped couch and plops himself down, hands buried in his hair and his gaze trained on the floor. His body heaves up and down with the heavy breaths he taking.

"Get out." He growls at us but my focus is on his knuckles which are beat up and red with stains of blood.

My heart picks up at the thought that he'd be hurt and then it worries as to how he got hurt.

"Come on." Henry grabs my arm and lifts me to my feet while my eyes are still on Jeonghan.

He leads me towards the door with his grip tightening on my arm. I hiss as his grip makes my nerves explode with red flags.

"Not her. Just you." Jeonghan says with a steely voice but he hasn't even moved a muscle.

"Hey, I paid for the hour." Henry spits back at Jeonghan, "I will be getting my hour."

"Get. Out." Jeonghan threatens through gritted teeth. I can feel his anger radiating off of him.

I pull my arm out of Henry's grasp and place a light hand on his chest. "Just go." I tell him, trying not to show my annoyance towards him, "Go see May, and I'm sure Wonwoo," I glance at the man in the doorway, "Will explain the situation and help you get a refund."

Henry opens his mouth to protest but I cut him off before Jeonghan explodes.

"Just go now and come back next week. Go now before you're unable to return next week." I sharpen my voice to make the urgency clear as day.

Thankfully, Henry gets the message.

"Okay. I'm gone." He says before walking out of the room.

Wonwoo closes the door and the room falls into silence besides the dull drumming of the music. Turning to look at Jeonghan, he still hasn't moved but his breaths aren't as heavy as they were.

Wordlessly, I make my way over to the cupboard where we keep everything our girls might need for a private session, including a first aid kit. Which is exactly what I'm going for. Pulling the kit out, I pull out a couple of water bottles before walking back to the couch. I place the water bottles and the first aid kit on the table before gently sitting down next to Jeonghan.

He doesn't even flinch as I lean in to inspect the cuts on his knuckles.

"You okay?" I ask when I'm confident none of his cuts need stitches.

Jeonghan doesn't respond with words but just nods his head once.

"Will you let me clean your hands?" I ask softly, my heart aching that whatever happened is the reason he's not acting like his normal self.

Again he doesn't speak or move but just nods his head.

I walk back over the cupboard and grab a small towel before returning to the couch. Pulling an empty glass over to me, I open a water bottle and fill the glass. I wet the towel in the glass and turn my body to face Jeonghan. Watching closely for any reaction, I gingerly pull one of his hands out of his hair and towards me. He lets me do so without any resistance so I start wiping away the blood with the towel.

"He's relentless." Jeonghan mumbles and lowers his head further.

"Who is?" I ask though I have a gut feeling I know exactly who he's talking about.

"Grayson." He says and his voice is straining to keep himself calm.

My heart drops upon hearing the name of the man who is determined to take me. I try to ignore the fear prickling my skin by focusing on cleaning Jeonghan's hand.

I drag the towel over a particularly red spot and Jeonghan hisses.

"Sorry." I apologize and blow some air over the area to cool it down.

I work the towel down his fingers and wipe the trails of red off his smooth skin.

"He keeps showing up," He says and lets out an angry breath, "And I swear the next time I'm going to blow hi- Ah!" He yelps as I run the towel over another open cut. "Careful." He scolds me and looks me in the eyes.

I inhale sharply at the state of his face more than the fact that he jumped. His bottom lip is busted, a nasty looking bruise is forming on his cheek, and he has a cut above his eyebrow that has blood smeared around the skin. Instinctively, I grab his chin and turn his head to inspect his injuries.

"What happened?" I ask with more concern laced into my voice than I had intended.

He pulls his head out of my grasp and looks away from me. "Hopefully a good threat."

I let my hand fall back to his hand but my eyes never leave his face, "Just tell me he looks worse." I plead with concern.

Jeonghan smirks, "You think I would let a nobody like him beat me like this without leaving him faring worse? I'm pretty sure he'll be nursing his wounds for weeks."

I frown slightly hearing the amount of damage he caused but at the same time, a weight lifts off my shoulders in relief that the other guy is worse off. I finish cleaning his one hand before reaching into the first aid kit for some gauze.

"You don't have to put that on." Jeonghan says, glancing back at my actions as I place some antibiotic ointment on the open cuts.

"I do and I will." I tell him before wrapping his knuckles with the gauze. "Otherwise you'll get infected and that's not good."

Jeonghan huffs in annoyance but doesn't say anything else. After his one hand is wrapped, I move to his other hand. I make quick work of cleaning this hand but the silence sitting around us makes the time seem to drag out for hours. By the time I'm done wrapping the second hand, neither of us has notice that I've scooted closer to him.

Dipping the towel into the water glass, I wring out the pink tinted water before forcing Jeonghan's face to look at me. Starting with the cut on his eyebrow, I clean off the skin farthest from the cut and make my way closer. His eyes watch my face intently and it takes everything in me not to meet his gaze. With every second that he stares at me, my heart picks up speed until it's pounding against my chest like the bass of the music against the walls.

Carefully, I wipe away the blood in his eyebrow before hesitating to wipe at the cut.

"This might sting." I say in a tiny voice, blinking my eyes down to meet his piercing gaze.

He wraps an arm around my waist and closes his eyes in response. The weight of his arm on my waist is heavy and won't be easily ignored. With a steadying breath, I wipe at the cut to clean it out. Just as the towel makes contact with the

open wound, he sucks in a breath and his hand grips my hip.

"Sorry." I whisper as I continue to gingerly wipe at the cut. "Okay." I tell him while setting the towel down and picking up the ointment.

Jeonghan opens his eyes as I place some ointment onto his cut to help it heal but his hand stays around my waist.

"You know," I say, switching to the towel again, "You're pretty bloody for someone who's nickname is 'clean hands.'" I bring the towel up to his lip and carefully wipe it.

A smile tugs at his lips but the stretching of the skin makes him stop immediately and groan in pain. The cut starts to bleed slightly again and I dab the towel against it to keep the blood from trickling down his chin.

"Careful." I remind him softly. "Do you need any pain killers or anything?" I ask him, pressing the towel to his lip again and glancing up at his eyes.

He watches me with soft eyes for a heartbeat before shaking his head. "No, I can handle it."

I frown at his answer, but decide to leave it alone. Pulling the towel away, I'm glad to see that his lip has stopped bleeding so, I put some ointment over it. Capping the ointment tube, I try to scoot away but Jeonghan's grip around my waist tightens.

I glance down at his arm before back up at his face with a questioning look.

"Just humor me a bit." He says calmly but I think I catch a bit of embarrassment in his voice. He reaches for one of the filled champagne glasses but I quickly grab it out of his hand.

Jeonghan gives me a 'what the fuck' look but I just grab the other glass. "Drink mine. I'm pretty sure I saw him slip something into his and I don't want you to find out what it was." I explain, placing my glass into his frozen hand and setting Henry's glass onto the table.

"He's never coming back here." Jeonghan shakes his head and brings the glass to his lips, taking a sip out of it. "His first time and he goes and breaks the rules."

"Rookie mistake." I comment and lean in closer to him.

Relaxing against his shoulder, I think back to the reason he's all cut up like this.

"You know Grayson's probably going to keep coming back." I sigh with downcast eyes.

"I know." Jeonghan says and rubs his thumb against my side. Even though there's the fabric of my dress in between, my skin still tingles with his touch. "But I'm setting up a plan to make sure you're safe."

"What plan?" I question, looking up at him and ignoring the last part of the sentence.

His jaw clenches and he takes another sip to calm himself, "You're not going to be out on the floor anymore." He explains, resting the champagne glass on his thigh, "I've been looking for someone to manage the girls and I want you to do it. And until that creep leaves, you will go home escorted or you will stay here if you need to."

My heart skips a beat at his suggestion. Stay here? The same place he stays? The upper levels that we're hardly ever allowed into?

Before my brain can stop itself, I ask, "Why?"

Jeonghan pauses and I can feel all the air in the room vaporize like boiling water on a negative 40 degree (Fahrenheit but it's the same in Celsius) day. I start to majorly regret asking the question but when he looks down at me and the softness of his eyes wipes away any regret.

"Because I think I would hate myself if I lost you." He says softly. So softly, in fact, that it's a stark contrast to the sharp edges of his features and his usual voice.

"I would never go willingly." I say, internally cringing when my voice hitches slightly.

"I know that, but I don't want it to come to that." Jeonghan murmurs.

I smile softly and hear the care in his words, but I still can't help myself from asking, "But why me?"

He lets out an airy chuckle, "You're really going to make me say it?"

"How will I know if you don't?" I answer his question with a question and a slight smirk.

"Because as much as I hate to say it or admit it, you've become my weakness." He explains and I inhale in surprise, "The first day you came here, knowing who I was and what my reputation was, and yet, you wouldn't leave until I agreed to take you in. You care the other girls and keep the guests in line better than any of my men ever could. You keep this place running like a proper establishment. Not to mention you're absolutely beautiful." He finishes and a blush creeps onto my cheeks.

"If I had it my way, you wouldn't even be working at the club but I figured you'd fight me on that." Jeonghan adds with a twinkle in his eye.

I giggle, "You were right about that. I'm not leaving the other girls alone." I take a breath before asking, "But if I wasn't working here, where would I be and what would I be doing?"

He looks away bashfully, "Hopefully, you'd be at my side and you'd be doing whatever you wanted."

"You're beating around the bush, Jeonghan." I lean away from him to look at him properly.

"God, you're so infuriating sometimes, you know that?" Jeonghan says and leans his head back.

"I like things blunt and to the point. And you are certainly not giving me that right now." I bluntly tell him, not caring how it may have sounded if anyone else was around.

He lifts his head back up, sets the champagne flute down before bringing his hand to cup my cheek, "Another reason I'm absolutely, most definitely falling for you."

My heart flutters like the wings of a million humming birds and I feel like I can hardly breathe, in a good way.

Jeonghan stares into my eyes, searching for any reaction while leaning in extremely slowly. "You can stop me." He reminds me, "There are rules."

"And if I want to break the rules?" I question him, not breaking my gaze.

By now, he's so close I swear I can feel his lips ghosting against mine, "Then I'll add it to the list of things that make me fall for you." He whispers before crashing his lips onto mine.

His lips are soft as they move against mine as easily as waves across the sea. The arm around my waist pulls me closer to him and I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him harder.

Pulling away sooner than I would have liked, he rests his forehead against mine, the tip of his nose barely touching mine.

"What are you going to do about Grayson?" I quietly ask and he growls in disgust.

"I'll make sure he chooses to stay away or I'll make the choice for him." Jeonghan says through gritted teeth and I move my hands to his shoulders in hopes to calm him a little.

"And I think I'll stay by your side." I tell him to get his mind off of Grayson.

"That's all I ask for." Jeonghan smiles before pressing his lips against mine again.

[maidskeppy]

So I saw all this Skeppy jail stuff, and I decided to write something about it... enjoy!

Warnings: angst, spoilers, possible lore inaccuracies

"Oh man, he’s gonna be pissed if he sees this…”

Skeppy muttered to himself while digging up sand at a desperate pace. Not for the first time, and probably not for the last, he had let a creeper into his and Bad’s home, which had decided to detonate while standing right against the front wall. While most of the wall was fine, the window had completely shattered, and the floor had a huge hole in it. Skeppy could fix it all, but he wasn’t sure how much time he had before Bad got home.

He almost had enough sand when he heard fast-paced steps approaching. Bracing himself for another lecture about being careful, he turned around to face…

Dream?

Skeppy wasn’t even sure when they had last met up. He knew Dream had been busy, with important-sounding things like war and politics, but Skeppy hadn’t paid much attention to anything that didn’t directly concern himself, Bad, or the Skywars map he had spent months constructing. “What’s up?” He asked, not sure what to expect.

Dream sighed, and for the first time, Skeppy noticed the exhaustion in his posture. He was breathing heavily, and a few drops of sweat briefly shone on his forehead before slipping below his mask. “Skeppy,” he began, wheezing the name out with difficulty. “It’s Bad. He needs you.”

“Wait, why? What’s going on?” He was already putting away his tools, ready to run.

Dream shook his head. “No time to explain. He’s hurt, he needs you right now.”

Even if there had been time to explain, that was all Skeppy needed to hear. He ran as fast as his body could physically stand, yelling several times when Dream couldn’t keep up. “Come on! Where is he?”

“In here,” Dream finally panted, placing a hand on the door of the prison. With his other hand, he fished a keycard from his pocket, swiping it to gain access.

Skeppy followed, squinting through the dim halls. “Why would Bad be in here?”

“He agreed to help me guard it,” Dream instantly responded. “We might have to use it soon, and… we need all the help we can get. But there was an accident. This way.” He pointed down a long hall, lined with entrances to what appeared to be tiny cells.

The hall was only just bright enough for Skeppy to see into each cell. From where he stood, they didn’t even look big enough for a person to fit into. What was supposed to go in them? Most of them were marked by signs, but he couldn’t afford to take time to read any of them, not when Bad was hurt and alone and probably crying for Skeppy. Answers could wait.

He had darted out ahead, but the careful attention he gave each cell allowed Dream to quickly catch up. Occupied with his task, Skeppy didn’t actually realize how close Dream was until a hard shove forced him past the entrance of the cell he was examining. Turning around, he was met with the slam of iron bars, sealing his only way out.

“Dream, we don’t have time for trolling!” He banged on the bars with both fists, hoping they would somehow be weak enough to collapse. They weren’t. “We have to find Bad!”

“No, Skeppy.” Dream stood outside, all traces of exhaustion mysteriously absent. “I have to find Bad. And then I have to let him know we’re doing things my way from now on… as long as he wants his precious little Skeppy to stay safe, anyway.” His words were drawn-out and sickly sweet, a vicious mockery of them both.

Skeppy launched another futile attack on the bars. “Oh my God, you’re actually fucking evil. Dude.” Had he been like that the whole time? The idea was starting to hurt his brain, especially since he was no longer even sure if Bad was hurt or not.

Dream shrugged. “Maybe it looks bad from your side, but I’m doing what’s best for everyone. Now don’t go anywhere… not that you exactly have a choice.” With that, he was gone, leaving Skeppy alone in his cell.

Now that he was inside it, Skeppy was questioning the use of the word “cell”. He had so little room to move that a better word would probably be “cage”. He couldn’t even properly sit or lay down… which meant he wouldn’t be there for long, right? Yeah, it had to be temporary. Bad would find him, work things out with Dream, and get him out.

He sighed, not quite out of relief, but out of an unshakable trust that it would come.

—

Losing track of time proved easy, as he realized when he next heard footsteps in the hall, and couldn’t produce an answer to how long he had been left alone for. He didn’t think he had fallen asleep at any point, so it was probably less than a day, but that was as specific as he could get. Leaning forward the tiny amount he could, he tried to get a look at his visitor.

Twin metaphorical weights of stress tumbled off his shoulders when he glimpsed a familiar set of eyes, framed by an equally familiar hood. Once Bad saw where Skeppy was waiting, he rushed over, clinging to the bars that separated them. “Skeppy! Are you okay?”

“I will be once I’m out of here.” Skeppy reached out, his hands closing over Bad’s fingers as much as they could. “What’s going on? Dream’s trolling us, right?”

“You don’t have to worry about Dream anymore. Actually, they’re probably dealing with him right now.” Bad cast a look back towards the prison’s entrance. Though the thick obsidian walls prevented any sound from escaping, he could imagine the scale of the commotion.

“Great. Let’s go home.” He didn’t even care if Bad saw the creeper hole. They could fix it, go to bed, and hopefully forget this ever happened.

“Well…” Still holding the bars, Bad took a step back. “Here’s the thing, Skeppy.”

If that was already enough to chill Skeppy’s blood, what happened next turned it to ice.

As Bad watched Skeppy, the vibrant red in his outfit faded to a dull gray, then to white.

“Bad, what’s happening?” He asked, even as he started shaking in a way that suggested he already knew.

“I have to do something important, Skeppy.” His fingers stroked Skeppy’s palms in an attempt to be comforting. Skeppy hated that he couldn’t even bring himself to pull away. “Something dangerous. People might start thinking they can use you to stop me.” He shook his head. “I won’t let them.”

He didn’t wait for a response. “I know it’s not the nicest place,” he said, voice taking on a placating tone. “But it won’t be for long, and I’ll visit you all the time, okay? I’ll bring all the foods you like, and drinks, and games, and anything else you ask for. You won’t really be missing out on anything!” Was he smiling? Was he really smiling? Skeppy wanted to reach out and slap him, right across the face.

He resorted to the only tactic he had left. “Don’t do this, Bad.” He kept his voice soft and sad, hoping it would be enough to have an effect. “You know I won’t be happy here. Is whatever you’re doing really worth that?”

Bad bit his lip, and for a second, Skeppy saw a battle rage in his eyes. Then it was over, and Bad pulled his hands away from Skeppy’s. “Skeppy, I know you don’t understand yet, but I’m doing this so we can be together forever. No more problems, no more fights, nothing trying to keep us apart.” He looked down, hands twisting together. “Don’t you want that?”

Damn it, he was even better at guilt trips than Skeppy was. “Yeah, of course, but…”

“It won’t be long,” Bad promised again, leaning closer. He carefully positioned his face against the bars, making it clear what he wanted. Skeppy sighed, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“It better not be.”

“See you soon, Skeppy.” Bad gave him a kind smile. Somehow, its sincerity hurt even more than Dream’s cruelty. When Skeppy didn’t answer, Bad looked away and started walking, disappearing from view within seconds.

As soon as he was gone, Skeppy felt a broken noise escape from his throat. It sounded like a strangled hiccup, but the way it forced streams of tears from his eyes made it feel more like a sob.

Whatever it was, it echoed through the hall for a moment, then faded away. Once it was gone, Skeppy heard something faint but unmistakable: a single footstep, which wasn’t followed by another.

He waited for a little longer, delaying his conclusion for as long as he could, but it increasingly set in despite his best efforts. If Skeppy had heard that footstep, then Bad had heard him crying. And he hadn’t come back.

There was no reason to keep holding back. He slumped as far down as the cage would allow, and let the tears come.

He didn’t realize that his sobs weren’t just wordless sounds until the walls echoed them back to him.

Despite everything, he was still crying for Bad to come and save him.

He could explain it away by blaming habit- that was what he always did when things went wrong beyond his own ability to fix them. But even as he told himself that, he couldn’t make it feel like the truth.

He loved Bad. He had loved him through all their fights, all their time apart, and he would keep loving him, no matter how long he was kept here. And he couldn’t decide what was worse: the thought that Bad didn’t love him as much in return, or the thought that he did, and could still bring himself to do this.

In his cramped position, he wasn’t sure if it would even be possible to sleep, but sleep eventually came. When he could no longer physically stay awake, he finally drifted off, hands still gripping the bars in the same position they had been when Bad had been there to hold them.

[jaedore]

BINDING BONDS | 10

< prev | next >

parings: jung jaehyun x reader

genre: ceo!au, arranged marriage!au, angst, asshole Jaehyun, swearing

[ ☽ smut (suggestive) | ◇ angst (belittling, swearing) ]

note: BB deals with themes of mental and physical abuse, which can be upsetting for some readers. If you feel uncomfortable reading these types of plots, you are advised to not continue. MINORS, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, but I advise you to skip the sexual parts.

[ 8k words ]

You can feel the Spring breeze settle on your skin, the cooling wind planting goosebumps on your naked back as it brushes the blankets from your body. You reach for Jaehyun and his warmth, but the familiar body isn’t next to yours. Lifting your heavy head, you search for him in the room to only find him leaning against the balcony, overlooking the city below his feet. Putting on one of his t-shirts, you walk to him and put your arm on his back, rubbing circles on it. Jaehyun’s gaze continues to stick to the city. To you, it looks like he didn’t get a lick of sleep, dark eye bags painted his face, restlessness coating his eyes, his face showed no emotion. 

“Good morning,” you smile. You comb your fingers through his hair hoping to alleviate whatever weighed his mind, “you okay?” 

Jaehyun slightly nods to you, his head falling before he turned to face you, “yeah,” he said, “let’s get going or we’re going to be late.” 

With that, Jaehyun turned around to head back to your room. Confusion blurs your mind as you watch his figure pick up the discarded clothes from last night. Why was he acting like this? Usually, he’d still be in bed and holding you in his arms, being all lovey-dovey. Was it something that you did last night that he didn’t like? Were you giving too much? Or too little? Did he just not get enough sleep? Nothing but the latter would answer your question after seeing him rub his face. 

“Do you want to go grab breakfast before we go? We have a bit of time,” you glanced at the clock. 

“No, actually. I’d like to get home as quickly as possible,” Jaehyun responded, not giving you a glimpse as he shoves clothes into his luggage, his hands tightening in stress as he didn’t bother to fold them but instead bunch them in his fists. 

“Okay,” you drag out, “are you busy at work?” You asked. You wanted to know if something came up from work that he suddenly had to attend, but that thought disappeared as Jaehyun peered at you with a sliver of frustration. 

“Yes, please. Let’s go home.” 

You two board the plane, sitting next to each other not peeping a word. The tension between you two was so heavy that even the plane itself would struggle to cut through it. You sat still in your seat focused on your tablet as you did some work, but you also didn’t speak to him, afraid that you’d set something off. And Jaehyun didn’t say anything to you, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to control himself. 

You’re only married to her for business, you think this is all happy and fairytale-like? That everything’s all lovey-dovey just because you’re married upon a contract? No, I bet she doesn’t love you, she probably hates you because of you who are. A dirty, scathing, slug who only clings to the Jung name. Get your head out of your ass. The words his father spat at him echoed in his mind, it was like he etched his own words into Jaehyun’s brain, making sure they’d stick there. 

He turned to you, who fell fast asleep, your head hanging over your tablet. Like second nature, Jaehyun gently supported your head until it was up against the headrest, he knows you’d complain about the pain if you stayed in that position. You looked so graceful, harmonious, you are everything he’s ever wanted but he knows he’s far from perfect. Jaehyun knows that you are perfect, that you deserve someone perfect, someone better than him. Who was broken, unfixable, and cold. Last night was the last night you were going to have each other, for he was convinced that there will no longer be a moment to cherish, a moment to be intimate, a moment to love. You were too good for him and he had been too selfish. 

When he saw you about to wake, Jaehyun snapped his head back to the window, waiting for the sight of home to desperately reappear and for things to go in the way they were meant to be, just like how it was in the beginning. Maybe it was always supposed to be like that. 

Perhaps you were tired and drained, or possibly just sleeping to avoid conversing with Jaehyun. You knew he was still frustrated so you didn’t think it’d be the right time to talk about your trip, you hoped you could reflect on that with him when he’s ready. You genuinely enjoyed every bit of it and you have hope that he did too. 

It’s 5 AM when you arrive back home, the dark night sits upon you two like the mood. Not a word has been exchanged since this morning before boarding and the feeling that you did something that wasn’t pleasant to him still lingered in your mind. 

“Are you okay?” You asked, your body shifted in the passenger seat towards his.

“I’m perfect.” 

“You haven’t talked to me ever since last night.” 

“I’m just tired, the time zone has me all messed up,” Jaehyun responds, his voice calm. 

Bullshit. You thought. “What happened at work? You said it was because of work that’s got you frustrated.” 

“I fixed it on the plane. We just had to seal a hard deal, but everything should be fine now.” he keeps his gaze on the road, but you saw the way his fist tightened against the steering wheel like he was trying to refrain himself from saying something. 

You reached for his free hand that rested on the console, “you know you can tell me anything,” you caressed it.

“I don’t want to talk about y/n, I had a hard day today.” He responds in a calm tone, but it’s enough to slightly set you off in a bad mood because you were just trying to be considerate. 

You don’t bother to respond, so you pay no mind to him the entire ride back home. You two are quiet in your seats again, letting the hum of the car above the pavement take over the silence. 

The sun begins to rise as you two safely arrive home, ready to sleep through the day hopefully to prepare yourselves for the following weekday. You two are quick to shower and change and settle for bed. You wait up for Jaehyun as he finishes doing his nightly routine, gazing at his reflection in the mirror of the bathroom you try to read his expression as to what is really wrong with him. Jaehyun wasn’t acting normal to you, but maybe he was telling the truth, that it is the jetlag and he’s just had a really hard day. 

Jaehyun glances at your posture, reading how your arms are crossed and your forehead is creased, it definitely lets him know that you want to talk, but your features soften when you catch him glancing at you. Your arms fall to your sides and you turn away from him, covering yourself under the sheets as you let out a disappointed sigh. In the flash of a second, he knows that you’re disappointed. Were you disappointed in yourself? Or in the tension between you two and his lack of care to communicate to you?

Quietly, Jaehyun crawls beside you, mimicking your actions, his back facing you like there was a wall between and no one dared to knock it down, for who knows what chaos it would bring. 

The next couple of mornings brought coldness to your body. Every morning when you woke up, he was already gone and out the door, not a text was sent, not a note was posted. Nothing. Like he just vanished in thin air until he appeared with the moon when you were deep asleep. 

You went to bed every night alone, too tired to wait up for him. You tried to talk to him, but it’d always just result in him brushing you off like the dust on the picture of you two in Paris you gifted him. Even if you did talk to him, it was short and general. When you tried to ask him what was wrong, you’d apparently press the wrong buttons and an argument would ensue. 

One night you grew out of his silent treatment. As soon as he stepped through your shared apartment, the time had already reached midnight. Jaehyun walked in, surprised to see you sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in your hands as you gazed at the lights that protruded through the night sky. The image of you before him made him long for you. He knew you were upset, he could tell in the glint of your eyes when your head turned to the sound of his steps. 

“I didn’t think you’d still be up.” 

“I wanted to see you for once,” you respond.

“Look,” Jaehyun breathes, “it’s been busy at work.” 

“I can imagine-” you scoff, “-but do you think I haven’t been busy either? I still try to make time for us, but every time I do, it’s like you don’t want it.” 

“That’s not true. You know that.”

“But do I Jaehyun? You’ve been ignoring me for days! Every moment I talk to you, we always get on each other’s nerves and end up arguing. I haven’t even held you since we came back home. Please, please just tell me what’s going on.” You plead at the man in front of you, whose expression hasn't changed. You’re convinced that Jaehyun has turned off every emotion in his body, you’ve seen the cold, expressionless look too many times to count. 

“It’s just a bad time right now at work,” Jaehyun defends. 

“Yeah, I get it, everything is because of work. I got it,” you sigh, clearly too tired of the same answer over and over again. Perhaps it was a sign for you to stop. 

You stand from the couch, legs stiff from sitting so much, and you walk up to your room. Jaehyun doesn’t call after you. You even turn around to see him still sitting in the same position, his body facing where you once were. You wanted him to say your name, to run to you and envelop you, telling what was truly wrong. When the silence reached your ears, with sad eyes you left him in the living room until he was ready to come to bed. 

You don’t know when Jaehyun came, but when you felt the mattress dip behind you, you had a sudden urge to turn around and hold him in your arms, but when you turned around, you saw the well-known image of his back facing you. It took all of you to stop when you found yourself shifting your body towards him. You wrapped your arms around his large frame, sniffing the back of his shirt, inhaling the scent you missed every time you held each other. Leaning your head on his sturdy back, you heard his steady heartbeat. How peaceful it sounded. 

“I don’t know what’s going on, but please, let me know. I’m here for you, Jae. Please, please talk to me. I just miss you, I love you. I don’t know what happened that made us like this but please,” you beg, clutching onto him tightly as you prevent yourself from crying. You held him as tight as you could, afraid that if you loosen your hold, he’d slip right through your fingers like sand. 

Little did you know, Jaehyun heard you, he heard your sniffles and your broken voice. He knows you’re hurt because of him, but he also knows that this is for the better. It’s far better than if he were to completely give himself to you and let you do the same. So answering with silence, Jaehyun shifted away from your hold, leaving you alone and cold for the night. 

When he moved away from your body, you felt your heart clench. Your chest heaved and quiet tears streamed down your face as the cold air hit your chest. His silence and action threw answers that confirmed you were his problem. With a small part chipping from your heart, you turned your back to him, a regular body position you grew accustomed to. Minutes onto your side, you quietly turn back to check if Jaehyun was sleeping. His soft snores and long breaths proved your thoughts and with silent steps, you left.

You weren’t as silent as you thought, though. Jaehyun felt you leave, he heard you collect your things, shut the door, and exit the apartment. A big part of him wanted to sprint to you, but the other restrained him, bound him to the bed like the stars to the sky. 

Exiting the parking garage, you drove off into the night. You had no idea where to go at this time of the night, but the only person you wanted to see right now was your best friend. You took out your phone and dialed Haewon’s number, clinging to the hope that she’d pick up at 2 AM. 

After a couple of rings, the familiar voice rang through the line, “y/n? Why are you calling this late? Are you okay?” the grogginess could be heard in her voice and at once you felt bad for waking her up at such an inconvenient time. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry. Can I sleep at your place tonight?” 

“Of course. Text me when you’re here.” 

Haewon kindly offered you the other side of her bed, since it was big enough for you two and possibly even somebody else. The soft duvet fell over your figure as you wrapped yourself in the nostalgic blankets, remembering the feeling from when you were young and would always have sleepovers with her. What the old times brought.

As always, Haewon was kind in letting you lay in peace before speaking. You were a composed person always with organized thoughts, but how come the expression across your face contradicts that? 

“We’re fighting again.”

Haewon’s head shoots to you with wide eyes, your face still facing the ceiling, “are you serious?” 

You nod to her answer, not knowing what other information to provide to her that won’t make you break down in tears. You were always horrible at holding your emotions in for such a long time that the tears brimmed and streamed down the corners of your eyes, wetting the side of your face. 

“Oh, honey,” Haewon coos you as she wraps her arms around you, giving you the warmth of her hug and the comfort in her touch as she rubs circles on your back, letting you cry out everything you’ve shoved down. 

“Paris was fine, it was fun, and I thought things were going great between us. But the morning we had to leave, it’s like he shut off all of his emotions. He won’t even speak to me and every time he does, it’s short-lived,” you briefly explain as your breath is still stable. 

“Do you guys argue a lot?” 

You glanced at her, “yes, but it isn’t as bad as before. It’s not what you think, but whenever something small happens, he just bursts at me.” Even through complications, you still find yourself defending Jaehyun. 

“Arguing is still arguing y/n,” she breathed, “I can’t believe he’s still doing this to you. Have you talked about it to him?” 

You shook your head, “Every time I try to, he always disregards it or says it’s because of work.” 

“Bullshit,” it’s like Haewon read your mind, but only said them aloud. 

“I-I don’t know what to do Haewon,” you stuttered as your arms fell to your side. 

“Maybe something happened at home?” her voice rose in suspicion. No, she didn’t know about Jaehyun’s father, but there were always circulating rumors. 

You inhaled a sharp breath, yourself beginning to calm down from your high of crying, “maybe. I don’t know, I’m done trying to talk to him for now.” 

Haewon embraced you in her arms, “come,” she lowered your body to the bed, “let’s get some rest.” 

As you lay alone in the silence, with Haewon fast asleep, you couldn’t help but think that maybe the reason why Jaehyun’s been worked up is because of his father. Maybe something really bad happened between them and Jaehyun didn’t want to tell you. Were you two really lovers if he couldn’t communicate with you? But again, it is something very private to him. Your heart began to play games while your mind made sure to keep your thoughts linear, but your heart won the match and by the time the sun rose, you hadn’t gotten the slightest bit of sleep. You woke up before Haewon did, texting her your thankfulness before driving back to your apartment. 

Jaehyun also couldn’t sleep. Without you by his side, how was he supposed to? Even if he was the one to push you away for the better, he knows his heart only belongs to you now. His large body took over your space and his limbs stretched to all corners of the bed hoping that he could build the same amount of warmth your body did when it was here.

Carefully, you cracked the door open to your shared bedroom, Jaehyun laid on his back, conceiving all the space on the bed. The fall and rise of his chest made your heart waver because you just wanted to jump in bed, to feel him, and to smell that homey scent he always carried. How peaceful things were before...where and why did it go so wrong? 

“You’re here,” Jaehyun rose from his bed, snapping you from your trance, “where’d you go?” 

You shifted your gaze from him, “yeah, I spent the night at Haewon’s,” you grabbed your clothes that hung in the closet, not giving Jaehyun any attention and getting yourself ready for the day. You heard a small “oh” coming from him as he left for the bathroom. You let out a long sigh that neglected to relieve any tension your shoulders held. 

You swung your blazer around your shoulders as you sat down on the edge of the bed, after finishing making it. Just in time, Jaehyun came out of the bathroom. Hair wet, towel around his waist, robust body, what a sight that captivated your eyes. The last time you saw him this revealing was your last night in Paris and that was a while ago, everything has changed after that. He was so tender, soft, and kind, the longing feeling weighed on your chest as your eyes followed his naked figure into the closet. 

“Jae,” 

“Hm?” 

“Can we talk?” you asked. 

“What about?” 

“Why have you been avoiding me? Is it because of your father? Are you having nightmares again?” Your gaze fell upon your fumbling fingers before Jaehyun could snap his head at you. 

He hesitated, “no.” lies. Part of it was, but most of it was because of his own self. Jaehyun couldn’t risk ruining your successful life with his dark, corrupt one. You were the most perfect person he’s met, even with imperfections and flaws, he saw you as an angel. He saw himself as the dust that was even lucky enough to brush past your beautiful face. 

“Then what’s the matter? Why haven’t you been talking to me, Jaehyun? Everything’s changed since we got back from Paris.” You stood from the bed in your poor attempts to get closer to him. 

Jaehyun let out a loud sigh, clearly letting you know he didn’t want to talk about this, “can we just talk about this after work? I don’t want to start the day like this.” 

Again. Again and again. How many more times will he brush this conversation? How many more times will he brush you off? You felt hopeless like you were drowning and Jaehyun was in the boat above you watching you be engulfed by the water, yet refusing to give you the anchor. 

“This is pointless,” you mumble. You quickly collected your things and left after making sure to slam the door behind you. 

Jaehyun watched you leave, it hurt him every time you did because he didn’t know if you’d come back. Every time he made you leave, you were angry and the night would just end up being filled with slammed doors and cold nights, whether you were present or not. He stared at the bedroom door for what felt like hours, wishing that you’d come back and want to talk about it and fix things. But what was he expecting when he was constantly pushing you away at every chance that was given to him?

The day didn’t go by any faster, any moment you had to yourself, your mind was occupied with Jaehyun. Like he made a home there and didn’t plan on leaving. You found it hard to not overthink everything. From the home-cooked meals to the sex, you couldn’t find anything wrong that you did. Maybe he didn’t enjoy the sex? Am I too controlling? What if I’m not giving him enough? Or Any? What if that’s it??

You sat in your seat, completely disregarding the presentation. Who cares about rubber shoes? Audace is a chic, luxury fashion brand, we don’t do rubber. You were so occupied in your thoughts that with abruptness, you stood from your chair and left the meeting without a word. You carried your portfolio and bag out the door with you, not bothering to stop at your office. 

At Jung Corporations, Jaehyun had just finished a meeting while his father was at another meeting outside of the building. He thanked the gods for their grace in giving him his own office, he wouldn’t be able to last a minute in the same room with his father. Looking over the notes on his tablet, his mind wandered to you again. Like your mind, you lived in his. Jaehyun always pondered if you’ve eaten, if you were taking plenty of mental breaks, and giving yourself the kindness your heart needed. Especially when he was treating you like this, he was sure to tell himself that this is for the best. He knows deep down in his heart that you deserve someone who can love you better than he can. Someone who can not only give you the utmost, fulfilling love, but also life. 

Like his whispered wishes, you barged through his doors. Jaehyun stood from his seat as he watched you saunter up to his desk with determination and anger in your eyes. There was no greeting, no hello, no warning, but just you pressing your lips against his. Oh, how much he’s missed the feeling, the warming pleasure from your lips, and how they executed tenderness. Like his body was running on his own, his arms made their way home on your waist, pulling you into his embrace. You gently tugged on the hair that laid on Jaehyun’s nape as he lured you to his body, before picking your legs and brushing papers from his desk to clear a space for you. 

You weren’t even thinking clearly, you were only driven by your emotions, but you missed him so much that even this kiss was everything. It’s everything that you ever wanted and you were ready to surrender and give all of your morals to him. 

Wrapping your legs around Jaehyun’s hips, he made his fingers busy by unbuttoning your top that laid beneath your blazer, later tearing it from you. Jaehyun’s fingertips set your skin aflame, every follicle of hair, skin he touched was burning and aching for more. 

“Please, please,” you whined when Jaehyun’s kisses trailed to your neck, giving your sweet spot attention. 

Regrettably, those words snapped Jaehyun from his muse. This is wrong, he thought as he immediately pulled away from you. You stared at him with your mouth slightly open, ready to say something, but he beat you to it.  

“This is wrong,” Jaehyun choked out. 

“I thought that this is what you wanted,” you whispered. 

He scoffed in disbelief, “are you being serious right now, y/n? Do you even hear yourself? Thinking that I only want you for your body?” 

“Well, it seems like it is because this worked,” you shot back, jumping from the desk. 

“You think that I’m in this for the sex?” Jaehyun questioned you, as you collected yourself again. 

It was your turn to scoff, “I’d like to think that because you haven’t spoken to me at all.” 

“We just talked this morning!” Jaehyun retorted. 

“Not like that. I mean like, actually talking about things other than your day, your work. I’m tired of it, I just want to talk about the things you enjoy, the things you want to do with me in the future.” You explained, sliding your blazer back on your cold body. 

“Well, I’m sorry that I can’t talk about you for a couple of days.” 

“That’s not what I meant! Oh my gosh Jaehyun, you are so oblivious.” You grabbed your things and left. 

You sat in your car, your head falling in your palms. What has gotten into you? This is not you, you never act so rashly like his. You’ve changed and right now you’re beginning to think it was for the worse. Tears threatened to brim at your eyes, but you pressed your palm against them hoping that they’d stay in because you still had half a day of work left. 

“Where have you been? You left so suddenly at the meeting,” your mother asked. 

“I just needed to take care of something.” You lied. 

“Is it because of Jaehyun? Is everything okay?” 

“It’s fine, we just had to figure some things out. Don’t worry about it mother,” you lied, again. How many more times were you going to lie to your own mother? Lie that you were okay and that you weren’t hurt, heartbroken?

“Okay,” she sighed in defeat, you were indeed stubborn, “well if you’re not busy, go check how the Designing Department is doing, and then you can head home. You don’t look too good.” 

“Yes, mother,” you nodded and headed to the lower level. 

You stood in the elevator, waiting for it to get to the designated floor. Your mind replayed your little stunt. You still hated yourself for making your way to Jung Corporations, just how desperate are you y/n?

Ding!

You stride towards the prototyping of the outfits, double-checking that everything was right. Making sure that each outfit was according to the style of Audace. You were already in preparation for Paris Fashion Week, you can’t let a small bead even be misplaced. Every stitching had to have the exact, appointed color; every fabric must be to scale and cut sharply, no loose threads. There’s no space for mistakes anymore. 

“How is this going, Chaeyoung?” Your eyes narrowed to speculate the embroidery of a jacket. 

“Perfect, we’re almost done. All we have to do is to sew in the beads in the embroidery.” Her head nodded to the jacket as her hands were occupied with another mannequin’s outfit. 

“I’m pleased to hear.” 

“Um, Miss y/n?” Chaeyoung’s voice called, but her tone was informal like she was talking to you as a friend. 

You turn towards her, humming for her call. 

“Are you okay? If I’m being honest, you don’t look the best,” she worriedly states. 

You blink a couple of times, even your mother said that you didn't look too good. Just how bad did you actually look? Last time you saw your reflection, you thought you looked decent, healthy at least. You nodded to Chaeyoung, “I’m fine, thank you. I’m actually heading home right now, so I’ll make sure to get plenty of rest.” 

“Oh...okay. I hope everything is okay.” 

Before leaving, you smiled at her consideration. It was interesting how everything ended up this way, especially between you two. You’d think that she’d have bad blood for you, but her kindness always made you reconsider that. In another world, you hoped that you two were genuine, friends.

You arrived home before Jaehyun, setting your things down at your feet, your body couldn’t even grasp energy to change. As soon as you closed the door, you grabbed a glass of water and sat on the couch waiting for Jaehyun to come home. 

The sky that was painted in streaks of red and orange, transfigured into dark hues, letting the moon take care of the people for the night. You found your mind reminiscing about your past and the fun trip to Paris. Everything was fun as long as it lasted, you somehow knew things were going to get worse before they got better, you just didn’t think it’d be this bad and come so soon. 

The familiar click of the door perked your head towards Jaehyun who looked like he had a stressful day. Maybe it was because of you, but you were silently praying that you were wrong. 

“Hey,” he greeted, untying his shoes. 

“Hi,” you shifted in your seat, waiting for him to come your way. 

Feeling the dip on the sofa, you two sat in silence, letting the absence of sound drape over the apartment. Only the sounds of the beating of each other’s heart could be heard among the hum of the city and the heat that flowed into your apartment. The flickering lights of the city reflected against your tall windows as you let yourself speak first. 

“What happened between us?” 

Jaehyun shook his head, “I don’t know.” 

“You’ve been avoiding me every second you have and when you do have a second, you’re arguing with me. Clearly-” you emphasized, “-I did something.” 

“No, you didn’t.”

“Then what is it? Is it your father?” your head turns to him, brows creased in concern. Jaehyun gave you no answer and you sensed that you were right, his father was the core of all this. “Jaehyun, it’s okay. I can help you.” you reached for his hand only to have him yank it away from you. 

“Don’t you understand? You can’t help me.” Jaehyun stood from the couch, walking to the kitchen. Frustration coated his words and it began to dig into your skin. You didn’t want to pry too much or press his buttons again, you just wanted to help. 

“Then tell me how. We can do this together,” your strides attempted to reach his figure, “I can find a way.” 

Jaehyun’s body rapidly turns to you, immediately making you stop in your tracks. Especially when you see red, anger in his eyes, “no, you can’t. Unfortunately, you can’t help me at all.” 

You shook your head in disbelief, “No, Jaehyun. We can find someone professional who can help.” 

“You don’t understand and you never will y/n!” He shouted. Your body slightly jumps from the reverberate of his voice, it’s been so long since he’s yelled at you like that and this time, it stings your skin like salt on your past wounds. “You will never understand because this-” he points to his chest, the one over his heart, “-is who I am.”

“No it’s not, this isn’t you Jaehyun.” you walk towards him, but Jaehyun only steps back away from you. 

“Yes, it is, y/n. This is who I am. I have been like this until you changed me for the worse. I cannot be fixed. I cannot be helped! I am like this!! This is who I am!!” Jaehyun repeats it several times until it’s ingrained in your mind. His shouting shoots at the wall vibrating his voice into your ears and it doesn’t sit well into your stomach. 

“You’re angry. I get it, let’s just breathe, okay?” You offer your palms to him, understanding that he could just be stressed. You’re ultimately wrong when he aggressively slides all of the papers and decorations off the kitchen table, letting the plants and papers crumble to the floor. 

“Don’t tell me to breathe y/n! I have held it in for so long, that I can’t do this anymore!” His chest rises from his hard pants. 

You stay quiet, anxious to ask him what flashed through your head in red blinking lights, “do what?” your voice is barely above a whisper, but Jaehyun hears it break. 

“This. I can’t do this marriage,” Jaehyun replies in the same tone. 

“When?” 

He looks at you with furrowed brows, “When what?” 

“Since when did you know you couldn’t do this?” tears begin to brim at your eyes, but couldn’t find care in the world to hold them back. Not after what you’ve been through, what he put you through. 

Jaehyun’s face becomes expressionless, “I don’t know.” 

“Don’t hit me with that bullshit, Jaehyun,” you scoffed, “since when did you fucking know?” 

“Our last night in Paris.” 

A loud sigh escapes your lips as tears stream down your face, wetting your cheeks, barely holding onto your jaw. “Then did you mean it?” 

“Mean what?” Jaehyun asks. His meaningless questions burrow themselves under your skin, how oblivious could he be?

“When you said you love me you asshole!” this time it’s your time to shout, but it’s more of a cry for help. You’re begging for him to give you the answer you want, but the world never liked playing on your side. 

It was like time had slowed down. You only stood a few feet from Jaehyun but it felt like miles. So far, yet so close. He stood in front of you hesitating his answer, debating if he could give you the truth or if it was better to rip off the bandaid and put a new one on it. 

“No.” 

You’re hysterical at this point, your cries turn into scoffs of breaths, which turns into laughter. They’re quick to rebound into loud cries when you feel your legs becoming weak. Instead of falling to the floor, you force yourself to stomp to your bedroom. 

Jaehyun’s eyes follow you, wondering what you could be doing. His answer quickly comes to him when you leave the room with your large duffle bag in your hand, full and zipped. 

“Where are you going at this time?” Jaehyun asks, surprised he even found the courage in him to ask. 

“Out. I’m done Jaehyun.” You slam the door shut behind, leaving Jaehyun in the empty, cold apartment. 

You ended up going back home, finding yourself in a spot where you had to explain to your mother. 

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you cried in your mother’s arms. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay to cry” she stroked your hair as she held you in her arms, “it’s okay to hurt. It’s okay to feel what you need to feel.” 

Since your father was overseas, you slept with your mother, you couldn’t stand not being alone at this time. Being in your mother's arms reminded you of when you were little and you couldn’t sleep without her by your side, it makes you miss how easy life was. How happy you were without a worry. 

It’s been days since you’ve texted or called Jaehyun, he hasn’t bothered to reach out to you either. Every night for you was filled with tear-stained pillows and the unnerving feeling of calling Jaehyun, but you never reached across your bed for your phone. You two were good at being stubborn in ignoring each other, it makes you wonder if this was now the end. 

However, Jaehyun wasn’t handling the situation well. Every morning brought him agony that it wasn’t a nightmare, that this was real and you were truly gone. He stayed away from drinking, the clubs, and only locked himself in the master bedroom, away from the world. Jaehyun often looked out the window, looking below at the city. Knowing that the road leads up to the apartment building, he always watched out for your car, but he only saw it in his dreams. Jaehyun waited and waited for you to come back. Again, what is he expecting? He’s done his deed in pushing you away in the worst way possible, how much more did he want from you? Why was he now asking for you to come back into his arms when all you’ve been is forgiving and loving to him? And he was the one to ruin all of it? The one to just throw it away like it meant absolutely nothing to him when it really meant the world. It’s fucked up, it really is. 

Jaehyun thought about you every day. You live in his mind, you go to work with him, you’re in the car with him, you go to bed with him. He pretends you’re there in spirit, but he knows you’re physically gone. Insane, that is what he is. 

“Come on, it’s been days! You have to come out,” Taeyong speaks through Jaehyun’s phone. 

Jaehyun sighs, “not tonight Yong.” 

“You’ve been saying that every time I call you. You never come out anymore, is it because of y/n? Are you finally getting tied down?” Taeyong only says it to joke around, but little did he know, it had a great effect on Jaehyun. 

“Can you just shut the fuck up man? Jeez,” Jaehyun hangs up on Taeyong, clearly angry. He’s not though, he’s been constantly hurting, but Taeyong finds out the second he’s hung up on. 

That’s why in the next ten minutes, there’s a hard knock at the door, forcing Jaehyun to drag his body to the door. 

“What?” Jaehyun deadpans at his best friend who wore a smile on his face, which shortly falters after noticing the darkest bags under a pair of eyes. 

“What happened to you?” Taeyong walks past Jaehyun, welcoming himself into the apartment. He looks around, for never being in here, he considers it as a luxury apartment, but something was missing. It felt cold and empty in here. “Y/n here?” 

When he doesn’t get an answer, he turns to see Jaehyun silently crying, his head hanging in his palms. His shoulders shake from his cries as Taeyong embraces his best friend. Taeyong is completely lost, not knowing what was going on, but the only thing he knew was that he needed to be there for Jaehyun. 

“She’s gone,” Jaehyun sniffles. 

Taeyong pulls away to hear it again, hoping that the words Jaehyun expressed were false. Each time they’d meet up Jaehyun would never shut up about you, in the beginning, he’d grumble about the little things that you did that irked him, but as time went on, he found the little things to be the most precious. Taeyong found Jaehyun as a new jubilant person, he’d always look forward to things, he’d smile more at others, there was an unbeknownst glow that you brought to Jaehyun’s heart. 

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Taeyong’s brows creased. 

“She hasn’t been home for days Taeyong. She’s fucking gone!!” Jaehyun shouted at his friend, bloodshot, red, painted within his eyes. 

Days turned into weeks, which turned into a month. Yes, you kept count. It’s been almost a month without a sound from Jaehyun. You despised yourself for always checking your phone, thinking that the ding you heard was a text from him or a ring was a call from him. Your hopes failed you when you were faced with the ghost presence of him. A huge part of your heart wanted to forgive and go back into his arms, but another wanted to completely disappear from his world. You wanted to erase yourself from his story. You knew you couldn’t go back after he admitted that he couldn’t find it in himself to marry you or the fact that he didn’t mean a single action or word when you two were in Paris. 

Lies everything was a complete lie. You slam your portfolio shut as you gather your things into your bag. You informed your mother that you’d be home later, you had to go back to the apartment to collect your belongings. All of them. 

As you drive down the old road, little memories of you and Jaehyun lingered in your mind. The late, late ice cream runs, the drives to watch the sunset or sunrise at the pier, the little bits of laughter echoed through your ears, and the cold walks among the beach where you’d walk close to him. You two built many sandcastles that were washed away too soon by the harsh waves. 

The familiar, tall, silver building came into view too quickly. You parked your car into the parking garage and walked up to your room, your feet remembering every single step so well that you could’ve gone up safely with your eyes closed. You softly knock on the door, fully knowing that Jaehyun was home. After Taeyong visited Jaehyun, he called you that day, and several days after that, begging you to visit him for Jaehyun had been isolating himself and was completely miserable. 

The door swung open, letting a brisk wind blow past you, the nostalgic smell of your apartment softly hitting your nostrils. How much you’ve missed this. 

“Y/n.” 

“Hey,” your eyes scanned the man in front of you. Disheveled hair, dark eye bags, swollen eyes, and he looked like he’d been lacking in cooking for himself. Taeyong was right, he was completely miserable. But as much as your heart longed to forgive him, you couldn’t find it in yourself to give him that kind of benefit again. 

“Come in,” Jaehyun opens the door wider for you to come in. Nothing about the place has changed. You’re surprised by such a messy image of him, the place is well kept. 

“I’m just here to collect my remaining belongings,” you reply, already making your way up to your once shared bedroom before hearing a quiet “oh” from him. 

The room resembled your heart, it was chaotic. The bed wasn’t made, the curtains were halfway drawn, drawers were slightly opened by his inability to shove his clothes fully in, the laundry basket was overflowing and spilling of clothes, letting it scatter amongst the carpet. 

“Jaehyun,” you silently whisper at the state the room was in. You weren’t mad, you were just disheartened that Jaehyun had been this frustrated that he couldn’t even take care of himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he shoved past you, “I didn’t know you were coming,” he tripped over his feet by trying to pick up his dispersed clothing from the floor. 

“Jaehyun,” you choked out at the poor man who sat on the floor, scrambling on his knees unable to get back up, and you couldn’t resist it any longer.  He looked so frail, like a broken vase that had just been recently glued. You rushed to him and held him close to your chest, letting out a choked cry and tears streaming down your face. 

Along with your cries, Jaehyun’s was also heard. He clutched onto your arm that settled around him, afraid that if he’d let go he’d lose you forever. Heavy sobs left Jaehyun’s chest as his tears stained your shirt, were you here to stay with him?

Jaehyun pulled away from your embrace, he caressed your cheek as he brushed a tear from your eye, “please stay. Stay the night before we both decide we’re over.” He didn’t let you give him an answer because he knew you’d stay. Picking you up into his arms, he carried your frail body to the bed as you attempted to calm your breathing down. Jaehyun was careful in changing you out of your clothes and into a shirt of his, for that was the only thing that was left now. 

Nonetheless, you let him carry you, change you, you let yourself stay because you knew that this was going to be the last night you’d see him. It was a horrible thing, but you prayed for only one more night with him. 

Jaehyun’s body came flush to yours, letting his arms wrap around your waist to bring you impossibly closer. He looks at you with eyes full of love but also drowned in sadness. He knows you’re not here forever. Without hesitation, Jaehyun pressed his lips against yours, the very distant memory of his lips sliced through your mind making you yearn for him. It’s only been a month, but it felt like years since you’ve felt those pink, plump, soft lips of his. Like always, it interlocked with yours like the key to a lock, like the last piece of a puzzle, like the calming of a river. There was no stripping of clothes, no coitus, just the two of you locking your lips together, feeling nothing but the actions of your mouths molding together. Jaehyun’s hands wandered your body, his mind needed to memorize the landscape of your body just in case you’d leave forever. But soon, they found a home in your hair and on your waist, while you found your place on his back and nape, occasionally tugging his strands. 

It continued for a while until your jaw grew tired, your mind was worn and you were emotionally and mentally drained. As much as you didn’t want to, you pulled away. Jaehyun’s head softly fell on your chest, hearing the steadiness of your heart before he closed his eyes.

“Thank you,” Jaehyun whispered before drifting off. 

When Jaehyun woke up the next morning, you were gone. The cold, wrinkled bed sheet telling him that you left hours ago without a sound. From the corner of his eyes, a glint coming from your side’s drawer glared his vision from the sun. It was your ring and a key on top of a handwritten letter from you. Jaehyun firmly rubbed his eyes, hoping that he was seeing things, but it was too good to be true. 

Dear Jaehyun, 

We’ve spent these past few months in hate, lust, and love. We have so many lovely memories that I’ll cherish forever in my heart. From the drunken laughs to the pillow talks, I’ve enjoyed each moment with you, don’t you doubt it. 

I wanted to thank you for the things you’ve taught me. You have given me the patience that I didn’t know I needed, you taught me how to forgive, and you’ve helped me acknowledge that it’s acceptable to stand up for what you believe in. Along with that, you taught me that people can change. I want you to understand that I was nowhere near trying to change you or fix you. You are not broken, you have the infinite ability for self-growth. I wanted to be there for you, I wanted to help you, trust me I really did. But I cannot be with you until you love yourself. I cannot see you love me more than you love yourself. 

Don’t lie and tell me you haven’t meant anything you’ve said or done up until now. I know your heart, I know there’s love in there for me, your actions were always better than your words. You were never good at lying, your ears gave it away, but even so, your words found its way to my wounds and like salt, I gave it to you to pour on me. 

We were always good at ignoring each other and running away from our problems. To this day, I will forever wish that I woke up next to you, but I can’t do this anymore. If you don’t want this marriage, and you mean it, please forgive me for giving you every access to my heart. I wish that I hadn’t settled into the feeling of being someone you loved. 

My last wish is for you to find love for yourself. You are worthy, you are worthy of love and to be loved. You were never broken, you just had some cracked areas and I hope that you can go back and paint those areas with gold. You are a strong man, you’re capable of love, always remind yourself that. 

By the time you get this, I’ll be out and probably somewhere lost among the crowd. Please don’t look for me anymore. I need time and I need to make peace with my heart. This key and this ring is my returned gift to you. I hope you can give them to someone strong enough to teach you what I couldn’t. 

And perhaps if fate allows, we will meet again when we are older and wiser, but for now, goodbye Jaehyun.

With all my love, 

y/n.

[whumpmatsus]

Can we see Karamatsu and Ichimatsu fight over some chocolate milk. Maybe with little injuries.

at first I was like "oh that's a little silly"

but then I was like... well, fuck, this is EXACTLY the kind of thing these dumdums would do 🤣

-

All things considered, it’s not too often that the Matsuno brothers fight over food when there’s plenty to go around. As long as they all get a fair share, even if it’s a special treat, that’s usually good enough for them.

Notable exceptions include four-packs of anything, given how impossible they are to split evenly, and… chocolate milk, though obviously not for the same reason.

Oh, sure, the local supermarket where Mom shops frequently carries six-packs of single-serve flavored milk, like the kind of packaging one would get with juice boxes to put in kids’ lunches. They almost always have strawberry, banana, coffee, orange… but for whatever reason, a dumbass reason as far as the brothers are concerned, that supermarket doesn’t usually carry chocolate milk.

So, of course, when Mom brings several cases of chocolate milk home, it means war.

There are twenty-four little boxes of it in total, which means they each get four. It’s easy. Or, it should be. As horrible as they all are, when it comes to sharing a treat like this, they want to stick to splitting it up just right so every brother gets as much as he’s supposed to.

The truth is that with something like this, all of them want to savor it. They want to make it last. After all, when it’s gone, it’s gone, and who knows when they might get more?

Unfortunately, given that there’s now only one box left, someone must not have drunk one of theirs. The problem is that both Karamatsu and Ichimatsu are pretty sure the only remaining one is theirs. Considering what a rarity it is, they’re prepared to fight tooth and nail for it.

Which, coincidentally, is exactly what they’re doing right now.

“Villain!” Karamatsu hisses as he brandishes a soup ladle like one might a sword. “I think I would remember if I had taken my last one!”

Ichimatsu mirrors the gesture, but his weapon of choice is a metal spatula. “And I wouldn’t?! Give it up, Shittymatsu! Just because your memory is as sucky as your face, that doesn’t mean you get to steal my last drink!”

The clang of metal hitting metal echoes through the kitchen. “It is not yours! I deliberately saved my last one for today… I was going to drink it right before I went to pachinko so I’d hit it big!!”

“Oh, please! How would that make you hit it big?!”

“It would energize me!! Keep your foul, thieving hands away from my chocolate milk!”

“It’s not yours!” This angry assertion is punctuated with Ichimatsu winding back before swinging the spatula at his older brother’s head. It hits its mark with a slapping sound that would be sickening to anyone outside the family who heard it.

As far as the other Matsunos are concerned, this is just another day in the household. Or another day with the sextuplets, at any rate.

Most of the time Karamatsu is horrified by the thought of hurting any of his brothers. He’s always reluctant to do it, even when they’re hurting him. Today, however, he strikes back with equal fervor to Ichimatsu’s blow. Maybe it’s something about the allure of chocolate milk, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s now got a cut on his temple, dripping blood down the side of his face.

The ladle is just as true as the spatula was, smacking against Ichimatsu’s cheek in a way that’s certain to leave a bruise. As soon as it connects, though, a more pressing issue presents itself: Ichimatsu screams, dropping his ‘weapon’ in favor of clutching his cheek.

“FUCK! Oh, my God, my teeth!”

It appears the spell is broken, at least for Karamatsu. He tosses the ladle to the floor and rushes to his brother’s side. Ichimatsu is in a heap on the floor by the time Karamatsu kneels next to him, feeling guilty despite his own injury from Ichimatsu drawing first blood. “Ichimatsu! A-ah, I’m so sorry… let me see…”

Ichimatsu whimpers pitifully and moves his hand away from his jaw so his brother can take a look. “I think I’m bleeding…” He glances up with a mirthless snort. “S-so are you, though.”

“Yes, well… we’ll deal with that later.” He sighs and grabs a sheet of paper towel, carefully pressing it against where the blood in Ichimatsu’s mouth seems to be coming from. “Here, hold that for a minute and I’ll get a real towel so this doesn’t stick to your teeth.”

He’s back in only a few seconds, quickly replacing the paper towel with a damp, cold cloth. Hopefully, that should soak up the blood as well as soothe the pain. “I’m so sorry, again… I got a bit carried away. But that’s no excuse ― a good man shouldn’t be causing his little brother pain over something as trivial as a drink. Please forgive me… how bad is it? Do I need to drive you to the hospital?”

Ichimatsu shakes his head and eagerly holds the cloth against his mouth. “Ow… no… don’t think anything’s chipped or broken… just hurts.” He looks up again, and a wave of self-consciousness flashes over his face. “… ‘m sorry, too. I threw the first punch. You should fix your face.”

Karamatsu almost chokes himself in an effort not to start laughing. Then he reaches up to touch the cut and remembers that, well… he should fix his face. He’s bleeding, too. “Ah… right, yes. Here, let me… help you to the couch first, so you can relax. I’ll fix this and then come check on you.”

He helps his younger brother up to his feet so they can head into the other room. Surprisingly, Ichimatsu doesn’t pull away. He also doesn’t lean much closer; he just lets Karamatsu do whatever without any complaints. “Ichimatsu… you take the last chocolate milk. It might be yours anyway, so… I-I don’t want to fight over it.”

“N… nah, I, um, I think it’s probably yours,” Ichimatsu huffs. “Maybe I’m remembering that I drank my last one yesterday. After I got home from feeding the cats.”

Karamatsu chuckles softly as he deposits Ichimatsu on the couch. “You can have it, though. Please. I really want you to take it. As an apology, because I… I do believe I hit you a fair bit harder than you hit me. So I want to make it up to you.”

Ichimatsu settles down on the couch, tentatively removing the cloth to check how much he’s bleeding. Thankfully it looks like it’s starting to slow down. “Are… you sure?”

“Yes, of course! Anything for my darling fourth brother.” Karamatsu beams, giving a gentle pat to Ichimatsu’s leg. “It’s not worth hurting each other over, and I’m sorry I’ve done so. Let me go clean my cut… then I’ll get some painkillers into both of us. And I’ll bring you that milk ― it should cheer you up!”

“Heh. Okay.” Ichimatsu doubts there’s anything in the world that could truly do that job, but it’s funny to watch Karamatsu try. And maybe he’s just a tiny bit grateful. “Um. Thanks.”

The second eldest offers another smile and a thumbs up before he heads to the bathroom. All things considered, the wound Ichimatsu gave him isn’t too terribly bad. Though it does sting to wash off with soap, it’s not bleeding heavily, so after he gets it cleaned and puts a bandage on it, it feels better.

He’s out of the bathroom in only about five minutes, heading to the kitchen to grab the last chocolate milk. Maybe if Ichimatsu is feeling up to it, they can even share it.

When he walks into the room, Totty is there now, closing the fridge. “Hey, Karamatsu-nii-san! I heard a bunch of noise out here a minute ago… do you know what happened?”

Before Karamatsu can ease his youngest brother’s worries, his eyes are drawn to the box in Totty’s hand as he lifts it to take a drink.

It’s the last box of chocolate milk.

Son of a bitch.

[theeasternempress]

A Fever and a Frantic Father

Summary - Omega falls ill and it affects Hunter in more ways than one. 

Word count - 3.4k 

AO3 

Hunter’s first clue that something was wrong with Omega was when she had slept in two hours past normal. He had nothing against letting her sleep in since he knew that children needed their rest, it was just odd for her because normally she loved waking up at the same time as them. 

When she finally did stumble down, her hair was a tangled, sweaty mess and her skin was flushed. Hunter suspected that she might not have slept well last night, so he made a mental note to put her down for bed earlier tonight. 

Omega yawned as she softly padded over to Hunter to wish him a good morning and slump against Gonky. She rolled up her sleeves and turned on the datapad Tech had lent her. 

“You ready for breakfast, kiddo?” Hunter asked, already reaching for a ration bar. 

“No thanks, I’m not hungry right now,” Omega responded, already immersed in whatever was on the screen of her datapad. 

“Alright, but at least eat something in a little bit,” Hunter replied, putting the ration bar away. It wasn’t unusual for her to not eat immediately after she woke up, but he still wanted her to eat something soon.  

Hunter left Omega alone to go check on Tech and Echo just as Wrecker walked in the room.  

Hunter watched as Wrecker smiled at the girl and bent down to pick her up. She rested her head against his shoulder while he exclaimed, “Good morning, kiddo! It’s good to see you finally woke up.” 

Omega continued to rest her head against Wrecker’s shoulder pauldron as he carried her in his arms. She began to close her eyes just before Wrecker set her back on the ground and picked up Gonky for his morning exercise.

A moment later, a call for both Wrecker and Hunter from Tech pulled Hunter’s attention away from the interaction before him. Hunter hadn’t meant to get distracted watching his brother interacting so gently with their newest addition and was quick to answer Tech’s call to hide his embarrassment.  

A few hours of silence in hyperspace went by before Hunter thought to check on Omega. Just as he stood up, he heard her small steps approaching. 

“Hunter? I don’t feel good,” Omega groggily said, holding the side of her head. Hunter rushed to her side, kneeling down to meet her eyes. Her face was even more red than it was earlier and when Hunter placed the back of his hand against her forehead, he found that she was burning up. 

“I think you have a fever, Omega. Come take a seat so we can have Tech take a look at you,” Hunter replied, ushering her into the chair he had previously been sitting in. 

Tech, who had been silently listening to their conversation, quickly grabbed the medisensor from his toolkit and scanned Omega. 

“Omega does have a slight fever, but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed,” Tech stated. 

“I’ve treated patients with fevers before, I think it’s more than that,” Omega mumbled. Hunter noticed how she could barely keep her eyes open and was swaying in her seat, almost as if she would fall asleep at any second. 

“Alright then, describe how you’re feeling,” Tech asked. 

Omega thought for a moment before saying, “I’m really tired, but then I either get too hot or cold and I can’t sleep and everything just hurts. It hurts when I move even the smallest bit and I just want it to stop.”

The pain in Omega’s voice pierced Hunter’s heart and he desperately wished he could take her illness away. Exhaustion hung heavy in her voice and he felt incredibly guilty for not noticing she was sick earlier. 

“It appears that, due to her sheltered life on Kamino, Omega has not built up immunity to many illnesses. Therefore, her body is fighting this illness for the first time and it may take time for her to recover. She will likely show the most severe symptoms over the next few days but with rest, hydration, and medicine, she will recover. 

The disease is likely contagious, but we’re all vaccinated against various diseases, so we should be fine caring for Omega as long as we are still cautious. I’ll get her some acetaminophen to see if that helps, but we should land soon to get her to a doctor,” Tech announced. 

Hunter, Echo, and Wrecker remained completely silent as Tech left the room. Hunter knew that if he was worried for Omega’s health, his other brothers must be feeling the same way. None of them had been sick like this in years, but they especially had no idea how to handle a sick child. 

Tech came back before the silence became unbearable with a cup of water and a small pill. Omega’s time as Nala Se’s medical assistant showed as she took the pill with ease and eagerly gulped down the cold water. Tech seemed to notice that as well since he was quick to leave and come back with a larger cup of water for Omega. 

Everyone stood in silence, staring at the small girl in their presence as if she would grow sicker if she left their gaze for even a moment. Omega didn’t seem to notice that she had captured the attention of everyone around her as she took small sips of her water and stared out into hyperspace. Eventually, Hunter cleared his throat and motioned for everyone to return to normal.  

Even while everyone else turned their attention away from Omega, Hunter found it difficult to do so. Hunter could hear the sound of her labored breathing much better than his brothers could and he couldn’t get the sound out of his head. He could also hear her groaning softly as she was constantly changing positions in order to find something comfortable. 

He wanted nothing more than to take her to her room so she could get some proper rest, but he knew that she loved spending time with them. If she truly wanted to be alone, she would have gone to her room but instead, she chose to silently sit among them. Hunter didn’t understand how she could derive so much joy from such a small thing, but he wasn’t about to put an end to it. 

A coughing fit from Omega that caused her to spill her water all over herself was the push that Hunter needed to move her up to her room. Everyone sprung into action, Echo grabbing a clean cloth to dry Omega off while Wrecker was immediately at her side and patting her on the back. Tech grabbed a spare set of his blacks, waiting on the side for a good time to give them to her. 

Hunter stepped in and spoke, “Alright Omega, I think it’s best if you go to your room and rest while your medicine starts to work. Let’s get you into something dry first.” 

Omega nodded, moving over to Tech and taking the spare blacks with a quiet, “Thank you.”

Hunter nodded to his brothers, leading Omega to the refresher as she cradled Tech’s spare blacks tight in her arms. She emerged a few minutes later with the clearly too-big blacks hanging off her frame, but at least they were something dry. 

She flapped her arms and giggled, “Look how big these are on me!” 

Hunter smiled at her, grateful that her illness hadn’t completely drained her of her child-like wonder.  

Hunter placed a careful hand on Omega’s back as she climbed up to her room with a little more difficulty than normal. He boosted himself up a moment later, sitting on the edge with his legs dangling over the side. 

“Are you feeling any better?” Hunter asked as Omega began to tuck herself under her blanket. She didn’t answer his question and instead reached her arms out for the tooka doll that was just out of her reach. Hunter scooped the doll up and tucked it into Omega’s bent elbow. 

She smiled at him and finally responded, “I’m feeling okay now, I’m just really cold.”

“That’s normal when you have a fever. Your medicine should help with that,” he informed her. She nodded and closed her eyes, hopefully in an attempt to get some sleep.

Hunter stayed at her side, something deep in his bones telling him he had to stay with her just a little bit longer. He didn’t miss how her small body was shivering despite being covered with blacks and a blanket. 

He was about to hop down to bring her his blanket when her small voice hesitantly asked, “Hunter, can I come sit with you? I read about sharing body heat once and I don’t know if it works, but I’m just so cold.”  

The shaky desperation in her voice led Hunter to, without hesitation, bend down to scoop the small girl, blanket and all, into his lap. He pressed her to his chest and carefully tucked her head to rest against his shoulder. She sighed contently, wrapping her arms around his neck and snuggling deeper into his chest. Hunter adjusted her blanket to wrap around her shoulders, but otherwise kept completely still. 

Omega’s labored breathing was slowly replaced by soft snores as she went limp in his arms from sleep. He waited a few minutes to make sure she was truly asleep before carefully transferring her from his lap back into her bed. 

She shifted as soon as he pulled away and the brown eyes he’d grown to adore fluttered open. Omega softly groaned as she stood back up and made her way into Hunter’s lap again, nestling herself into his chest like she was a mere minute ago. 

Hunter went still with shock before wrapping his arms around her again. If Hunter had learned anything about the girl in his arms, it was that she was equal parts stubborn and curious and when she wanted something, she’d do whatever she could to get it. 

Omega was fast asleep again in seconds, and Hunter found himself jealous with the ease that she could fall asleep. Hunter hoped that she would be able to keep that ability but with the life they were currently living, he knew that trauma would eventually keep her up at night. Hunter sighed at the thought. 

He knew that the life they were forcing Omega into wasn’t one meant for a child, but he was at a loss for what else to do. She seemed to be happiest when Hunter and his brothers were at her side, but that didn’t mean that that was the best option for her. 

She deserved to be in school and around other children, not stuck on a ship with a group of clone deserters. She deserved a belly full of warm meals and fresh food, not the same disgusting rations day after day. She deserved actual toys to play with, not a hand-me-down from Wrecker and a stolen trooper doll. She deserved so much more than the little Hunter could give her. 

Hunter knew she deserved so, so much more than he could ever give her, but he also knew that he would never be able to part from her side. He faintly remembered some phrase about letting someone go if you truly loved them, but Hunter doubted he would ever be able to do that. Maybe it was selfish of him to be unable to let her go, but he could handle being selfish if it meant keeping this small ray of light in his life. 

(But Maker, he knew he would let her leave him if she truly wanted to. She was happy with them for now but if she grew up and changed her mind, Hunter would be unable to say no to her.)   

Hunter was suddenly broken from his thoughts when Tech appeared at the base of Omega’s room and spoke, “It’s time for Omega’s second dose, as well as time for you to get some rest. You’ve watched over her enough.” 

“She’s asleep, I don’t want to wake her up since she’s been having a hard time sleeping” Hunter whispered, gesturing his head to the girl cradled in his arms. 

“Just lay her down, I’ll give her the next dose whenever she wakes up,” Tech replied, his tone showing that he was not going to be argued with. 

Hunter nodded and carefully placed Omega into her bed for the second time that night. When she didn’t move, he quietly climbed down the ladder and watched as Tech climbed up. Hunter observed his younger brother switch on his datapad and turn the brightness all the way down so as to not disturb Omega. 

“Good night, Hunter. I’ll handle her for now,” Tech said, clearly trying to dismiss Hunter. Hunter sighed and left, fighting the urge to turn around to check on Omega again. He knew that she would be fine in Tech’s hands, but the urge to stay at her side lingered. 

Hunter dragged himself to his bunk and practically tumbled into his blankets. He hadn’t realized just how exhausted he was from maintaining one position for hours until he’d stood up. Still, getting to comfort Omega in her current state made his pain worth it. 

He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep, desperately hoping for nightmares to not visit him tonight so he could preserve the joy that his time with Omega had given him. 

-

Hunter woke up after a night of dreamless sleep to a completely silent ship. The brain fog from his sleep took a minute to disappear but once it did, Hunter immediately knew something was wrong: he couldn’t sense Omega or any of his brothers. 

Hunter sprung out of bed, worry in his heart and adrenaline in his veins. Had something happened to Omega while he was sleeping? Was she dead? Did his brothers take her off the ship to be buried so he wouldn’t have to see her? 

Even though he knew his senses were never wrong, Hunter still rushed up to her room to see if she was there. Pulling back the curtain, all he found was her pillow and blanket, which had long since gone cold. Her precious Lula was gone as well, but Hunter paid that no mind. 

Running down to the main hall, Hunter noticed that they had landed in the middle of a small town. He lowered the ramp and immediately began searching for any tracks he could find. He found that Wrecker was going in one direction while Echo and Tech went another, but there were no signs of any tracks from Omega. Knowing that Wrecker had the best relationship with Omega out of the three, he followed Wrecker’s tracks into town. 

A million questions were flying around in his head as he ran. His first thought was that Omega had possibly run off and his brothers were looking for her, but she could barely walk without pain the last time he saw her. Besides, they would have woken him up for an emergency like that. His second, and most worrying thought, was that her illness had taken her sometime in the night. 

As many theories as he had, he had no idea which to believe. Nothing like this had ever happened before, so Hunter had nothing to base his theories off of. Still, if something had happened to Omega while Hunter was asleep, he’d never be able to forgive himself. As much as his anxiety was eating him up, he knew he had to keep a level head to find Wrecker.

Making it into the main part of town, Hunter lost Wrecker’s tracks. They’d been covered by countless others and there was no way Hunter could use them now. Hunter cursed to himself as he started to become desperate. 

He’d also realized that he’d left his comm link on the ship in his panic, meaning he had no way to contact his brothers. Turning around to get his comm link would just be a waste of time. His best bet was to continue straight and hope that Wrecker had gone this way, but he could be going the wrong way for all he knew. 

He ran for what felt like forever, furiously looking for his tallest brother. Hunter thanked the stars that his brother stuck out like a sore thumb due to his height since it always made him easy to find in a crowd. Hunter didn’t care about the odd looks he was getting from the citizens of this town, all he cared about was finding out what had happened to Omega. 

Hunter paused to catch his breath against a small brick building. He tried to calm his nerves but with every second that went by, panic spread throughout his body and hot tears rose up in his eyes. He was frustrated with himself for being unable to find Omega and was disappointed in himself for not detecting her illness sooner but above anything else, he was afraid that Omega had been taken from him before she had known how much he truly loved her.  

 He sank to his knees, bowing his head to cover his tears. His best wasn’t good enough and now, Omega was gone forever. He’d never hear another curious question from her, never have her beg to go exploring or sightseeing, and never see her brilliant smile again. He’d failed Omega, and that thought broke his heart. 

The sound of a bell chiming and a loud, deep voice laughing stopped Hunter’s tears and made him spring to his feet. Standing before him was Wrecker with a bag of medicine in one hand while he held a giggling Omega in his arms. Omega giggled without a care in the world, her Lula doll clutched tight in her arms. 

Hunter stood before them, gaping like a fish and completely unable to speak. He was sure he looked insane as he stood there breathing heavily with tear stains on his face, especially once all laughter stopped when Hunter was in their sight. 

“Hunter, are you alright?” Omega asked in a soft yet confused voice. 

Hunter felt more tears fall from his eyes as he laughed and surged forward, pulling Omega out of his brother’s arms and into his own. He fell to his knees and cradled Omega just as he did last night but this time, he was determined to never let her go. He would feel shameful for the shuddering sobs that overtook his body later but for now, all he felt was relief. Every ounce of stress and anxiety lifted off his shoulders the moment he saw the small girl and he felt joy overtake his heart.  

His tears were soaking into Omega’s shirt, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as she wrapped her arms around him and patted his head like he had done to her so many times. Her empathy was so advanced for her age and it always blew him away and by the Maker, he was so proud of her.

Hunter finally managed to compose himself and let Omega stand up. She stayed by his side and reached out a hand to gently wipe his tears away with a concerned look in her eyes. Hunter couldn’t help but pick up her small hand in his, giving her a soft smile which was quickly returned. 

“Alright Sarge, what’s going on?” Wrecker asked. Hunter had almost forgotten his brother was there, and he was sure the sight he had just witnessed confused him. 

“I … I woke up and all of you were gone. I couldn’t find any of Omega’s tracks so I was already thinking the worst, but then yours got blurred with the townspeople and … and,” Hunter started, but the tears returning to his eyes prevented him from speaking any more. 

Wrecker seemed to understand nonetheless and he strode forward to give his brother a tight hug. Hunter sighed, relaxing into his brother’s touch and returning the hug. 

“Sorry for stressing you out, Hunter. I took Omega to a doctor as soon as we were both awake while Echo and Tech went looking for some spare parts for the ship. She was tired, so I carried her the whole way. We left you a note, but I guess you missed it,” Wrecker said, releasing Hunter from his hold. 

Hunter almost wanted to laugh. Of course he had been worried to death over nothing.  

Hunter felt small arms wrap around him as Omega hugged him and said, “I’m sorry you were worried about me, Hunter. I promise I feel a lot better now!”

Hunter smiled and ruffled her hair. As long as she was happy, Hunter knew he would be too.

[harrowharkboygf]

Game Night

a short post-season 5 oneshot. read on ao3

——

Catra liked to think of herself as a dedicated person. There were a lot of things she still hated about herself—the therapist Perfuma had recommended to her had said during their first session that it would take time to fully forgive herself, to get out of the “self-destructive mindset” she had spent so long embracing. But she at least prided herself on her resolve, her resilience, her determination.

However, it turned out that in terms of determination, she was nothing compared to the princesses’ crazed desire to hold as many social events as physically possible.

At first, during the initial celebration at Brightmoon and the stream of Thank You For Saving The World, Princesses! parties that were thrown in their honor as they traveled across Etheria to help with rebuilding efforts, Catra thought that this was just because of the circumstances. Everyone was clearly thrilled to be alive and happy that the princesses were back to being heroes, and they wanted to commemorate the occasion with festivities.

(It was still weird to think of herself like that. As a member of the Princess Alliance. Would it ever get less strange?)

But then Catra learned that the princesses were just like that. There were endless game nights and iceball tournaments and flower crown-making circles and picnics and trips around Etheria just for the purpose of seeing the sights. Late night planning meetings that turned into sleepovers, and visits to their allies under the guise of “checking in” that held no tactical purpose in the end.

This was so foreign, so beyond her reality; she had grown up in the Horde, where her idea of free time was just more training. Her only celebrations came in the form of stolen moments with Adora and extra ration bars, which she hoarded like it was water in the Crimson Wastes.

But despite how skeptical she acted, deep down Catra loved it, even the flower crowns. She discovered that she was very good at iceball—so good that she and Adora were banned from playing against each other on the grounds of being too competitive. (Thankfully, Glimmer and Frosta were equally worthy opponents.) Spinnerella and Netossa were more than happy to teach her all their tricks; Catra found the couple oddly comforting, a nice, stable, older presence that she’d never had before.

But above all, Catra loved the quiet moments the most. Late sleepovers with the Best Friend Squad (her attempts to change the name to something more badass, like the Kickass Comrades, had been shot down) had, much to her surprise, become one of her favorite things. The old Catra would have scoffed seeing her now, eating sweets and giggling late into the night, but she didn’t care. Arrow Boy and Sparkles had actually become her friends, dignity be damned.

And of course, there was Adora. Beautiful, amazing, wonderful Adora, with her sparkling blue eyes and soft lips and strong arms that always ended up wrapped around Catra. She could hardly believe it was real, that Adora loved her. She wondered if she would ever be able to wake up and not stare in disbelief at the sight of Adora lying next to her, staring at her with soft, loving eyes. If one day she would stop fearing that all of it was a dream.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Glimmer shouted. “Quit being gross and get over here so you can finish helping us!”

They had spent the last two weeks in what had formerly been known as the Fright Zone, and what was soon to become Scorpia’s kingdom. The still-newly-minted princess had decided to use it as a refuge for former Horde soldiers who were looking to turn over a new leaf. “After all,” Scorpia had said, “if Catra and Adora and I all changed, everyone else can, too.”

But unsurprisingly, the place was still, as Catra put it, full of shit. So the Princess Alliance decided to clean it up and redecorate.

“You said we could take a water break!” protested Adora.

“Yeah,” said Catra, smirking. “We’re so thirsty.” She blinked innocently up at Glimmer from her perch on Adora’s lap, one arm slung around her shoulders and the other hand playing with her blonde hair.

Mermista, who was carrying a stack of boxes nearby, rolled her eyes. “Yeah you are,” she muttered. Behind her, Sea Hawk gave them a thumbs up.

Glimmer put her hands on her hips, shaking her head. “I said you could take a water break when Adora tried to lift a literal tank without shifting into She-Ra. But that was twenty minutes ago! Let’s go, you two. Chop chop.”

Adora’s gaze was fixed on Catra, a soft smile sliding across her lips. “Just a minute,” she told Glimmer, not breaking eye contact with Catra. Gently, she tipped her head upwards and kissed her. Catra let herself dissolve into the kiss, closing her eyes and exhaling.

They pulled apart only to press their foreheads together. “I think we’re annoying,” Adora stage-whispered.

Catra barely kept herself from giggling. (Giggling. What the fuck, honestly.) “You think?” she asked.

She heard Glimmer say, “Bow! Come help me!” Then she felt hands wrap around her as Bow and Glimmer bodily lifted her up off of Adora’s lap. She hissed in fake-annoyance, squirming in their grip.

“Don’t pretend you two are much better!” she shrieked as they deposited her onto a pile of stacked bedrolls. “I saw you feeding Sparkles at breakfast!”

Frosta scoffed as she used her ice powers to hang a lantern. “I get it, you’re all gross! When can we be done? I’m bored!”

Scorpia delicately set a plant down on a nearby windowsill, mindful of her claws. “Soon! Thank you so much for your help, guys. The place looks great.” Everyone beamed, pausing to look around and admire their handiwork.

It did look great. The walls had been painted a lighter color, and the hallways were now well-lit, filled with softer, more pleasant decor. The clanging of machinery still echoed, but gone was the smoke and pollution; Entrapta had spent a long time working on a more clean form of energy, one that was better for magic and the planet and whatever.

Speaking of the pig-tailed princess—“Where’s Entrapta?” asked Catra. “She didn’t want to come and invent some bot to help us?”

Perfuma adjusted her girlfriend’s placement of the potted plant, trying to give it as much sunlight as possible. “She’s very busy with all her new ethical science projects now—”

“Semi-ethical,” corrected Bow, rubbing the back of his neck.

“—But she was invited to our celebration tomorrow night! Hopefully we will see her then.”

“Another party? It never ends, does it?” Catra said to Adora, who had come back to stand at her side.

Perfuma clasped her hands together. “Oh, this one will just be a small get-together. We’ll throw a big party once all of Scorpia’s citizens move in, but this is just for us princesses!”

“And Bow and Catra and Sea Hawk,” Mermista reminded her.

Perfuma shrugged. “Honorary princesses!”

Adora cleared her throat. “Alright, team, let’s get these last few things in place. We can pick up the little bit that’s left tomorrow morning. I think it’s bedtime.”

——

“And then I said, “Uh, your ship’s on fire!’”

The room burst in laughter. Catra wiped a tear from her eye as she cackled—there was something about Mermista’s deadpan delivery that made all her stories way funnier than anyone else’s. “And did you ever run into that pirate again?” she asked.

Sea Hawk spread his arms grandly. “Why, of course! He approached us a short time later to tell us how our genius and fighting prowess inspired him, and how he had decided to become an artist and build statues in our honor. To this day, his children sing our praises around campfires.”

At the same time, Mermista shook her head and said, “Nope. Never saw him again.”

This unleashed another wave of giggles. Still snickering, Catra leaned forward in her seat and took a cookie off the plate on the table in front of her. As she did so, Frosta opened her mouth wide and pointed wordlessly at it. Catra rolled her eyes and tossed a cookie at her. She caught it in her mouth and gave a muffled cheer as she chewed.

Bow rubbed his hands together. “Okay, guys, let’s get started.” He gestured at the table in front of them, which would soon be the center of Scorpia’s strategy room. Tonight, however, it was covered with a big game board and several playing pieces, dice, and stacks of cards. “Here’s how we play—”

“We’re here!”

Entrapta practically bounced into the room, Emily close at her side, beeping cheerfully. Wrong Hordak followed close behind them, smiling his typical sheepish smile and holding a tray crammed with an almost-impossible amount of tiny pink cupcakes.

Adora stood up to greet them. “Hey, guys! Welcome to…”

Her voice trailed off abruptly as the last guest entered. Catra felt her heart begin to pound; she stood up too, curling her claws into fists. Melog, who had been sleeping next to the sofa the Best Friend Squad was sharing, sprang to its feet, hissing. The rest of the group froze, exchanging shocked glances.

Hordak (the real one) stood in the doorway, somehow managing to look both awkward and stern. “Hello,” he said shortly, his deep voice echoing slightly.

When no one answered for a long, tension-filled minute, Entrapta looked rapidly between the group and Hordak, her eyes wide with confusion. “Sorry we’re late,” she said tentatively. “Did I…did I bring too many people?”

Mermista buried her head in her hands and let out a muffled scream. Sea Hawk patted her arm sympathetically.

Catra struggled to choose between saying What is he doing here and Absolutely fucking not and just straight-up attacking him. Judging by her facial expression, across the table Frosta was thinking along the same lines.

Entrapta twirled one of her ponytails around her nervously, her smile slowing sliding off her face the longer the silence dragged on. Next to her, Wrong Hordak shifted from foot to foot. “Uh…”

Perfuma hastily jumped up, a fake smile plastered on her face. “We’re so glad you could come!” she chirped, flinging her arms around her.

Wrong Hordak joined the hug. “I have missed you, brothers!” he told them tearfully.

At Perfuma’s pointed look, Scorpia and Frosta made space for the newcomers, bringing over more chairs.

“Will you be joining us, Hordak?” Catra asked icily, sneering at him.

“Be nice,” Bow whispered to her.

“She has a point,” Glimmer whispered back.

Hordak glared right back at her. “Entrapta invited me. Am I not welcome here?”

Adora managed to pick her jaw up off the floor. “Uhhh…no, um, take a seat. Bow was just about to tell us how this game works.” She sat down, pulling Catra down with her.

Bow started to explain, occasionally being interrupted by Frosta, Perfuma, and Sea Hawk, who all had their own opinions on how the rules should be interpreted. Meanwhile, Catra hissed quietly, “Are we seriously just going to play a board game with Hordak of all people?”

“He’s changed, I guess,” Adora murmured back.

On her other side, Glimmer rolled her eyes. “Allegedly.”

After the war had ended, the Rebellion didn’t really know what to do with Hordak. Sure, he had saved Entrapta and turned against Horde Prime, but they weren’t just going to let him sit back on his throne. Originally Catra had been in favor of dumping his ass in the Crimson Wastes, but Huntara was having none of it.

So eventually the princesses settled on letting him live in Dryl with Entrapta, as long as he swore never to hold any political power or territory for the rest of his life. An oath they would make sure he held, with magic to ensure it, if necessary.

“I don’t trust him,” Catra murmured.

Adora placed a comforting hand on her thigh. “Me neither, but Entrapta trusts him. And whatever makes her happy, we’ll support.”

They watched Hordak sneer as Perfuma tried to offer him some fruit juice. She frowned back at his rude behavior, huffing in that trying-to-be-dignified-yet-offended way of hers. Frosta looked like she wanted to stick his head in an ice block. Meanwhile, Entrapta was in full science mode, spilling out a detailed lecture about dice and probability.

“Even if the thing that makes her happy is Hordak?” grimaced Glimmer.

Adora sighed, rubbed her forehead. “Even so,” she said glumly.

Bow clapped his hands, signaling the end of his rules explanation. “Okay, does everyone get it?”

“Yes,” said Catra.

“Totally,” said Glimmer.

“Yeah…” said Adora.

Bow gave them a look that suggested he knew they hadn’t been listening at all. “Okay, let’s get started!”

Thankfully, Catra was able to figure it out as she went. The game was fairly simple: the players had to try to be the first one to make it around a map of Etheria, while fighting mythical monsters and challenges along the way. She leaned forward, smirking, her competitive nature taking over. “You’re all going down,” she said, making a show of cracking her knuckles.

Glimmer scooped up the dice and began to shake them. “As if!”

Scorpia laughed and shook her head. “No, guys, Perfuma is the champion at this game. She’s beaten me every time, she’s that amazing.”

The flower princess blushed a deep crimson. “Oh, Scorpia!” she trilled. “You are amazing too!”

Catra watched this play out fondly. Despite her and Scorpia’s…rocky history, she was genuinely sorry for all the pain she’d caused her. Although Scorpia had said she forgave her, there was a while after the war where things had been awkward, uncomfortable. She was happy to see that the former Force Captain had found someone who could make her happier than Catra ever could.

Hordak made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. It took her a minute to realize that he was laughing. “This is a childish competition,” he announced, sounding annoyed.

Mermista rested her chin on her palm. “You’re just mad that you couldn’t conquer Etheria and now you can’t win this board game.”

Hordak stiffened. “How dare—”

“Okay!” Bow interceded, his voice hinging on hysteria. “Glimmer will start!”

They went around in a circle, their game pieces slowly advancing with each roll of the dice. Catra was not thrilled when Glimmer rolled four tens in a row and she kept only rolling ones and twos. Thankfully, she was able to get Sparkles back when she pulled a Brightmoon-themed card and “teleported” her to the little red and yellow spot on the board that was supposed to represent the Crimson Wastes.

Scorpia was, unsurprisingly, the best sport about this. While everyone else soon succumbed to playfully cursing each other out as they scrambled to keep their game piece ahead of the group, Scorpia was the one congratulating everyone even when they fucked her over.

Even Perfuma huffed when Frosta got her stuck in the “Northern Reach”. “This is a betrayal,” she sniffed dramatically, crossing her arms. “I will never, ever forgive you.” A moment later, she cracked a smile and winked at the younger girl to let her know she was joking.

Wrong Hordak landed on a “Magic Zone” square and whipped out a card. “Do not worry, sister! This piece of paper says the Sorcerers’ Guild has granted me the power of…time travel! I will reverse your plight!” he declared. He reached down and daintily picked up Perfuma’s piece so he could place it back on the path.

Perfuma giggled. “My hero!”

“That was supposed to be used for your piece,” Entrapta pointed out, fidgeting with a small gear as she waited for her turn.

Adora shrugged. “Eh, let him do what he wants,” she said. She leaned back and not-so-casually draped her arm over Catra’s shoulders. She leaned into her girlfriend’s touch happily.

Entrapta pulled out the recorder she clearly kept with her at all times. “Observation number two hundred and fifty-three: when playing games, rules are to be broken at the player’s convenience.”

“Now you’ve got the spirit!” chuckled Sea Hawk, who was currently attempting to steal alien chips off of Mermista’s plate. Every time she caught him, he gave her the most lovestruck eyes he could pull off until she let her snag a chip.

Wrong Hordak handed the dice to Actual Hordak. “Your turn, brother!”

Hordak took the dice emotionlessly and rolled it. A five. He moved his game piece to the appropriate square.

“You landed on a runestone!” Perfuma cheered. “That means you get to move ahead five spaces!”

Hordak frowned down at the tiny drawing. “This pathetic image looks nothing like the real Black Garnet. It fails to capture the strength, the raw power that eminented from my runestone. How comical.”

“Your runestone?” Catra repeated, raising one eyebrow. “It’s not yours anymore, Hordak.”

He glowered at her. “In a better life, it was.”

Glimmer narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying that—”

Entrapta scooped up the dice. “My turn!” she chirped.

Adora hastily stood up, gripping both Glimmer and Catra’s arms tightly. “We are going to get more fruit juice!” she said. “Bow, will you come with us?”

His grin was particularly strained. “Of course!”

They both looked at Glimmer. “Fiiiine,” she sighed, before transporting the Best Friend Squad to the nearby kitchen.  

Once there, Adora immediately turned to Catra and Glimmer. Melog slunk in after them, not wanted to be separated from its owner.

“He’s a terrible person!” protested Catra, already knowing what she was going to say. “I want him out of here.”

“Everyone did terrible things while they were in the Horde,” Bow reminded her gently as he poured more fruit juice into cups. Including you was the unspoken meaning behind that sentence. She looked down at the ground.

“But,” Bow said, handing her a cup, “what matters is that they’ve changed.”

Glimmer took the juice pitcher out of his hands, kissing his cheek. “I agree with Catra,” she told him as she poured. “Hordak might have said he was sorry, but he doesn’t act like it.”

“ And ,” added Catra, emboldened by someone siding with her, “he’s just straight up gross. How someone could possibly find that greasy-haired stick-up-his-ass attractive is just absolutely beyond me—”

“I know! He’s all—” Glimmer deepened her voice, hunched her shoulders. “—‘Pathetic princesses! You know nothing of true power! I am Hordak, Prince of Evil! Mwahahaha!’”

Catra laughed so hard she choked, and almost fell over.

Even Bow, who was rooting through the cabinets looking for more napkins, chuckled. “That’s cute,” he told her.

She winked at him. “ I’m cute.”

“You are.” He pulled her into a hug from behind, pressing his lips to the side of her head.

Adora took Catra’s hand. “Just please try to refrain from killing him for tonight,” she asked. “Afterwards, you and Glimmer and Mermista can start an I Hate Hordak club if you want.”

Catra tugged playfully on her ponytail. “Don’t tempt me. I will run that club.”

Her girlfriend poked her cheek in return before helping Glimmer and Bow stack the cups of fruit juice onto a tray. Catra grabbed another bag of alien chips, just in case.

“Alright,” said Adora, carefully balancing the heavily-stacked tray and ignoring everyone else eying her worriedly. “Ready?”

Bow winced as the tray wobbled dangerously when she took a step. “Adora, do you need—”

“I got it!”

Glimmer shook her head. “Maybe we’d better walk back to the strategy room. I don’t know if those cups can survive a teleportation trip.”

“We’ll be fine!” Adora assured her, and then promptly tripped, sending the tray flying.

——

“I’m really proud of you,” Adora told her as they waved goodbye to the group. They all had to return to their own kingdoms; it still wasn’t stable to be gone for too long.

Catra looked up at her. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, you—” She was cut off by a yell of frustration coming from the direction of the skiff waiting to take their friends back to Dryl.

The two of them watched Wrong Hordak and Entrapta attempt to bodily lift Emily onto the skiff, which was hovering a few feet above the ground. The bot was nothing more than deadweight, beeping irritably.

“Her programming is due for an update soon,” Entrapta explained. “Sometimes she gets sulky like this.”

“She doesn’t wanna say goodbye to her friends,” Frosta said. She seemed particularly pouty herself. She had become particularly clingy after the war ended, and probably wasn’t happy about having to go back to her own kingdom alone after spending so much time with everyone.

Catra could relate.

“We’ll see everyone again soon,” Glimmer reminded her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We’re throwing a celebration once Perfuma and Scorpia get everyone settled here, remember?”

“Yeah,” said Frosta, sticking out her lip grumpily.

Wrong Hordak shrieked as one of Emily’s appendages kicked him in the face. He dropped her with a thud.

“Emily!” scolded Entrapta. “Not nice!” Scorpia and Perfuma moved to help them, which definitely made things more successful. Meanwhile, Hordak watched the whole scene unfold from inside the skiff, not bothering to offer his help.

“As I was saying,” Adora said, still chuckling, “I’m really proud of you, Catra. I—I know it can be hard to keep your anger in check when you’re dealing with…”

“With the former dictator of our childhood?” she finished. “I know.”

“You’ve come a long way.”

Catra laced their fingers together, leaned against her shoulder. “So have you.”

Mermista called Frosta over to their skiff, where Sea Hawk was helping her load up their bags. The game night victor gave Glimmer a hug, then Bow, Adora, and, to her surprise, Catra. “See you later, Horde Scum,” Frosta said, parroting her mentor.

Catra grinned back at her. “See you later, princess.”

From the skiff, Mermista tossed a wadded-up piece of paper to Catra. “I look forward to it!” she shouted as Sea Hawk helped Frosta into the skiff.

“Me too!” Catra shouted back.

Adora looked curiously at the paper ball. “What’s that?”

Catra handed it to her without saying a word, smirking. Adora unfolded it, revealing a flyer.

The I HATE HORDAK Club

Calling all Etherians!

Do YOU hate the former Horde Lord?

Do YOU fantasize about ruining his day?

If so, this is the place for you!!!

Meetings will be held at Brightmoon Castle. Any questions, please see Catra or Princess Mermista.