#The Messenger fanfiction

[forkanna]

WARNINGS: The Messenger and all related characters © Sabotage Studios. Story ©2021 (and published 2024) to me. Rated M for a little steaminess in the latter half, though nothing too explicit.

NOTES: Happy New Year! Or something. I hope anyone reading this is happy and thriving, despite so many geopolitical, ecological, and economic upheavals.

I've gone quiet because I was working on a very large new fic that will be starting soon, and also just to recover from working on my previous stories, and to take care of some other life stuff. That's why, other than assisting with some friends' works, it's taken me almost half the year to release anything new. Most of you probably haven't even noticed, I'm sure, since my update schedule slowed to a crawl last year.

Believe me, I have a couple of very hefty works that are nearing the completion stage. I just hope the fandoms are alive and interested when I put them out there.

Alright, so I have a deep love of challenging platformers (challenging, not frustrating like Super Meat Boy). I wrote this one quite some time ago and simply forgot, and found it again when sifting through my files. Maybe Sea Of Stars being released will make it still be relevant, even though I'm posting it so long after The Messenger came out. If you've found it, enjoy!

Jessex

[AO3 LINK]

"So how long have you been in this shop?"

"My entire life. You think the shop is your ally? You merely adopted the shop. I was born in it, molded by it. I didn't see outside the shop until I was already…"

"…"

"That would be funnier if you were from where I'm from."

"Okay… but really, you haven't been The Shopkeeper here all your life, have you?"

"I haven't. But I also don't feel any need to tell you about my secret past, so you can probably drop that now. Don't you have a big demon to defeat or something?"

"…right."

"Good. Now go. Let me bask in a few whole seconds of peace before you come back in here and demand to know what's in my cabinet again. Nosy ninja."

"I just thought since we're spending all this time together, it might be polite to get to know you."

"Maybe I don't want to be known. Especially not about my past from before I found my way into this weird little pocket of reality. Definitely nothing about solar and lunar warriors who had to sail between dimensions. Maybe something from the after-time; I could tell you something about then."

"…"

"…"

"Do you have any stories to share?"

"Of course, here's one for you."

~ o ~

Stop me if you've heard this one. A monk walks into a bar… wait, not quite right. I'll try it again from the top.

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful monk. Very few ever got to see her face because from the moment she began training, a veil covered the lower half. Not much is known about the clan she came from other than that they trained as hard as the ninjas in their own discipline. A strong clan of true warrior women. They seemed to favour orange; orange gi, orange balaclava, orange slippers. They wear wraps around their forearms and calves that are yellow to match the yellow trim on the rest of their uniforms. Very sunny, I guess you would say. Sunny warriors.

As you probably have been able to guess by now since you keep asking me so many questions, she used to do what you do, back before the warrior from the west passed you the scroll. "Messenger" is what you'd call a revolving door position. Don't ask what a revolving door is; it's pretty self-explanatory, but also pretty horrifying. Much worse than the Burning Crags or the Underworld.

What a serious messenger the Monk was. Way better than you. She might have been your match in terms of fighting ability and athleticism — or similar, anyway — but she didn't let herself get distracted nearly as much. Discipline of the mind is just as important as discipline of the body, you know?

Yes, this is me asking you to stop with my cabinet. Again. You're like a dog with a bone.

She came in pretty often the same way you did, asking the same questions about how to climb up a wall in her way, catch air currents… you get the idea. And she didn't have as many relentless questions as some people, but we would talk here and there.

"It must be a difficult job, to guide warriors like myself to their fates."

"It's a hobby," I joked. I joke a lot. You have to break the boredom somehow. No, it's definitely not a defense mechanism to cover a plethora of anxieties.

"Oh, it is only a hobby?" She bowed, all deferential and polite. Those intriguing twin cones she styled her hair into barely even moved; she must wrap those ribbons — yellow, because why wouldn't they be — very tightly. Or maybe she just stuck them there; detachable head-cones. I've heard of weirder things. "My apologies, I should not have assumed this was your duty."

"Ah, that's… it's fine. So how do you get your hair like that?"

What? Colour me curious.

"Hm? Oh…" It was hard to tell without her veil, but I thought the way the corners of her eyes crinkled meant she was pleased. Her voice was just as reverent and respectful as always, so no help there. "You like this?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's pretty neat."

Her small-but-strong hand drifted up to caress over one of the cones. "Thank you. Many of the men and women of our order adopt such hair styles; they are appealing but functional. Long hair that is not kept in check would interfere with my ability to battle evil."

"Right, of course. I've often thought about doing something with mine, or maybe getting a cool hat."

"A… hat?"

"You know. Sits on top of your head, fashionably keeps the sun off?"

After a second of complete silence in which I really thought she might turn and stalk out of the room, completely disappointed with my conversational skills, she instead covered her mouth and began to let out the most musical, tinkling laughter I've ever heard in my life. And I've met an actual pixie before.

Don't ask to meet a pixie. The consequences are way too catastrophic.

"Ah, I see. Then I hope you will have a hat one day, Keeper of the Shop."

"Maybe." I was trying not to let on that I was having a good time; it's kind of my thing, to act like I'm just sort of aloof and indifferent. "But I can't help noticing you have pigtails, even though the cone-things are supposed to keep your hair out of the way. Fashion over function?"

She reached back to pull at one of the pigtails. "Yes… they are disliked by my master. But she has admitted that I am a more fierce monk with them in my way than any of my sisters are without them."

"You have sisters? Big family?"

"Sisters-in-arms," she clarified with another small laugh.

"Ahhh. Got it, sorry. Anyway, I think they look nice. As long as they don't get you killed by some ugly hell-beast, of course."

There was a slight twinkle in her playful deep brown eye. "They will not."

~ o ~

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"…"

"What? Don't you think that's a nice story? Isn't it cool to find out sometimes I chit-chat with other Messengers because I get super bored?"

"It's not that. I just thought you were going somewhere else with this."

"Where else? I never go anywhere but this shop. Or do I?"

"…right, but the way you described how she looked in so much detail made me think you were interested in her."

"…"

"Wow."

"What?"

"I don't think I've ever seen you speechless before."

"Watch it, ninja boy. It's just that you kind of strike me as the hapless protagonist type, so I wasn't expecting you to pick up on, well, anything."

"Oh, so you WERE interested?"

"…maybe."

"Huh."

"Oh, stop smirking. You didn't find out any great truth of the universe, you just figured out that a hottie made me take notice because I'm not blind."

"So did you do anything about it?"

"Excuse me? That's getting kind of personal, don't you think?"

"No, not really. I think you started telling me about her, and you like talking enough that you might want to tell me more if I ask."

"VERY personal now. And a little rude."

"You don't have to tell me anything. But it's really not that bad for me to just ask you to keep going, right? If you say no, you say no."

"Touché."

~ o ~

Even though you were a rude boy, and a little entitled, I'll tell you about another time the Monk came into my shop. Which was only forever, and not long at all. You'll know what that means one day, after you dance with magic.

The next few visits were pretty standard and all business. Monk wanted an upgrade that will help her take more hits, another that can transform her staff into a whip and back again. It's weird, she seemed to have a lot of trouble making it turn back into a staff… that wasn't supposed to happen, but oh well. Can't always trust Artificer's inventions but he does his best.

Which was why I gave you the rope dart instead. What would you do if you couldn't have your sword back? That'd be epically rough. Especially in the middle of a boss fight. Besides, some friends of mine had decent success with the prototype.

Then one time was a little different. She had just beaten back a throng of exhausting cultists — long story, too long for me even. And you know how long my stories can get. She seemed to need some time to rest instead of heading right back out into the fray.

"Here, take a seat back here."

"Oh?" After figuring out what I meant when I stood and moved aside, her brow furrowed a tiny bit. "Oh… no, I could not take your seat from you. This is your home."

"Well, not my home exactly… but seriously, I know you fought hard out there. Take a load off. You want some tea? Might not have any of the Astral stuff left, but…"

With a slight bow, she said in a flustered voice, "Please, you do not have to be so kind. I will be fine."

Thing is, polite as she always was even though she could easily kick my ass — and I'm no ten-pound weakling and don't you forget that, ninja boy — I could also tell she was dead on her feet. Copping a quick squat wouldn't be enough. So I did something for her that I have never done for any other Messenger, before or since.

I let her see my room.

~ o ~

"This isn't your room?"

"Yeah, of course it is. You see that big canopy bed in the corner, all those Tower Of Time Quarterly magazines on my nightstand?"

"Huh?"

"No, doofus. This is sarcasm; I'm being sarcastic. I can't sleep here if there's nowhere to sleep."

"…sometimes, you're kind of a jerk."

"And sometimes, you're kind of a doofus. Isn't it great that we can work around our differences for the good of the universe?"

"…"

"Moving on…"

~ o ~

Once we went through the secret entrance you don't get to know about because I don't think you can control your curiosity but it's also NOT that cabinet so don't assume so much, Monk let out a soft gasp when she saw how great my room was. Like, I can't undersell this enough; my ancestors really put some work into this whole place and it's gorgeous. Not super big but not small, either; a decent sized suite. Four stars all the way.

"Oh, it is beautiful!"

"Thanks. So, uh, you want anything to drink or eat? You ought to keep your strength up."

She turned from where she stood in the middle of the room, and it was even harder to ignore how she outshone my room. And this is my room; that's just about impossible.

"No, I could not impose. I am used to foraging. While I pass through the forests or the caverns, I will find mushrooms or wild greens, fruits, and prepare them by a campfire."

"Whoa. Real outdoorsy type. That's pretty dope."

"Dope? I am… you think I am stupid?"

OOPS. That not-old-school slang was going to get me in trouble. "No, no! I meant to say, uh… well, nevermind, I meant it's really neat you can do that. I bet you never have to go hungry that way." This badass warrior turned me into an awkward teenager again.

"Oh," she said softly, and I was relieved to see that slight crease in her brow fade again. Good; I already felt like crap for making her feel bad, even for a second.

"I'm really sorry. But yeah, here - I've got… okay." Yes, there was a little kitchenette. Did I not say my room was epic? "Instant ramen; I think you'll like that. Or at least, it'll fill you up and give you that carb-energy so you can do your thing tomorrow after you rest up. Man cannot live by potions and wild mushrooms alone."

"I assure you, I am fine," she told me with that laugh that set all my hair follicles tingling. "I am very grateful for your help, but please, do not go to so much trouble."

So I made her cup ramen. And yeah, you called me out on carrying a tiny torch for her monkness, so I should go ahead and admit that this wasn't exactly your top-tier first date activity. On the plus side, it wasn't like me giving her a place to rest counted as a date at all.

By the time it was finished, she had sat at my little two-person table. Honestly, I had always thought the second chair was a little redundant when I never had visitors, but figured there was no real reason to throw it out. Now I was glad I was lazy. I set one cup in front of her and another in front of the other spot - which actually wasn't my usual spot. But there was no way I was gonna tell Monk she couldn't have my seat. Even if it did bother me, which it didn't, I would have let her sit wherever she wanted, any day of the week.

"Thank you," she breathed with her palms pressed together, bowing slightly to me. She reached for the chopsticks laying across the paper lid.

"Oh - wait, you have to wait a couple of minutes."

"Hm? Why? I thought you prepared the food already…" She seemed uncertain.

"Yeah, but it's still, uh, steeping." I figured if she knew tea, she would get that one.

I was right. "Ahhh, I see. What is it? I believe I smell a broth…"

So I explained ramen. Turns out, she had something kind of similar in her own village, but definitely not the instant kind. Which I figured — for reasons. You're not ready to hear about all that.

"Okay, here," I said when it was done turning into the good stuff. I took the chopsticks and peeled off the paper fully, started stirring. "Just gotta stir it up good before you start in."

"Yes, I see," she said in a very serious tone. Why was it cute that she was serious about this? It wasn't; I just thought she was cute, so everything she did was… I'm gonna stop talking about that.

After I slurped up some noodles, I watched her carefully. Maybe this would be when I got to see her face. It was fine if she wasn't ready, or was shy, or if it was part of her tradition that monks didn't show their faces. I can relate. But if I was allowed…

No such luck. She leaned forward in such a way that her veil hung forward, so I still couldn't see her face but she was free to bring the noodles to her mouth. Then she sat back and chewed. Dang. Still, at least she seemed to like them well enough, if the way her eyes closed briefly in contentment was any indication.

"Not too hot?"

"It is very good, thank you." She let out a tiny sighing noise that may have been a burp; she was that kind of badass angel that could make even that adorable. Literally goals. But I noticed she was staring at me very intently.

"What?"

"What more can I do? Against the Primal Fear. I would really like to conquer it very soon, and help to restore peace."

"You're not ready," I told her simply, even though I was a little distracted by that thumping noise. What was it? Oh — right, it was my heart.

"I am ready. You have told me yourself that I'm the strongest Messenger you have ever seen. Is it not my duty to go and stop this darkness, so no others need to die?"

"Oh, if only it were that simple." Wow, it was so hard to endure the intensity of those eyes staring through my soul. I almost felt like I wouldn't make it. Before I knew what I was doing, I reached across the table to rest my hand on top of her clenched fist.

"Give it time. You have trained harder than anyone I've ever met, but training isn't the same as out there doing the real thing. Kick a little more butt, take a few more names, and you'll get there. You'll be ready for the Primal Fear someday."

A little at a time, the tension in her posture began to ease. I really expected her to say something like thanking me for putting everything in perspective, or for her to argue with me about it again. Instead…

"Do you like to… touch my hand?"

"Do I huh? Oh." After an awkward pause, I took my hand away. "Sorry about that. Probably should have cut that out once I was done saying my thing."

"You do not need to apologize. I'm beginning to think you care for me."

"A-ahh, well that's not-"

"I care for you, too."

Well. I'm really damn lucky she cut me off, because I had been about to deny everything. It's not my job to hit on The Messengers; it's my job to make sure they carry the scroll, that they don't come back as corpses. Even though I didn't really want to lie to anybody, it was way smarter not to get feelings complicating the whole arrangement.

Except she went and said that. Went and told me I wasn't the only one.

"Y-you do?"

"Of course. You have been so helpful to me, so wise and generous. I could not have come this far without your guidance. What kind of monster would not grow to care for you?"

I'm looking at you, ninja.

"Aww, I'm just doing what I can…"

Leaning forward intently, she said, "You must have been a very strong Messenger. I would love to spar; there is so much we could learn from each other."

"Spar? Really? You and me? I, uh… I might be a little out of practice." Not very. I mean, I still tried to keep fit, even though there's only so much you can do standing behind a desk in the shop all day. Still, I knew I couldn't drop my guard entirely; any day I might be called upon to step in again. I just hoped it wouldn't be for the usual reason.

Monk finished off another slurp of her noodles and sat back to nod eagerly at me until she was finished chewing. "Yes! Even if you are, I am sure I will still learn much!"

"Well… if you wanted to go now, we could. Probably better now than after we finish all our noodles."

"Oh, will they not grow cold?"

"I can heat 'em up again, no sweat."

So we got up and paced into the middle of the room. Have I mentioned how happy I was that she was taller than me? God, tall women are absolutely goals. She took up her staff and pointed the business end at me, though her head tilted to one side after a moment.

"You will not take off your robe?"

"Oh. Yeah, that would probably be good, even though I don't really need to." We had all trained to fight in those big blue robes. I mean, if you can't fight in your uniform, then it's obviously a pretty crappy uniform for an order of mysterious warriors, right?

When I took it off and draped it over the back of my chair, I heard a quiet noise from Monk. Of surprise, maybe? I hoped not of disappointment. But when I turned back to look at her, she was all business, ready to start smacking each other around.

"You okay?"

"Yes," she confirmed with a dutiful nod. "I am ready when you are."

So we did the martial arts thing. I'm sure you know how this goes well enough that I don't have to explain. I wasn't all that surprised that she kicked my butt from here to Glacial Peak, but I did at least put up a pretty good fight first. At some point, I tossed aside my belt and we both kicked off our shoes, and we went a lot harder than you would probably think I could, anyway. We traded bruises and bloody lips and we loved every minute.

Eventually we collapsed back into the chairs with two cups of cold water in front of us that I had grabbed before giving up on being able to move for a little while. Even though I couldn't see her mouth, Monk looked elated.

"You… have fun beating me up? Huh, bully?"

She seemed alarmed by that accusation, even if it wasn't serious. "I… I am not!" But then we both laughed breathlessly. That old thing about really getting to know somebody when you fight them? I guess it was pretty true, even though a good cup of tea and a long conversation will do a pretty similar job for you.

"Was only kidding," I panted a minute later, when we had caught our breath and downed some water.

And I know this is probably getting annoying, but if I thought she was the bee's knees before… with her face flushed and chest heaving, sweat matting her hair slightly — not to mention the strength just radiating off her in waves…

"Keeper?"

"Huh?"

"I asked if we could have a rematch another day," she repeated, eyes crinkling at the corners in amusement. I got distracted way too easily; maybe it was because I had burned up my ability to ignore how good she looked while sparring with her. Yes, normally I can keep my eyes on the prize, but watching how gracefully she fought… it tested me more than the sparring.

"You… bet we can." Another sip of water to coat my suddenly-dry throat. "Sorry… I was supposed to let you… rest."

"It is alright. You do not need to worry about me; I can resume my mission now."

"No, no way. Stay, finish the noodles, take a shower and grab a nap. Or, I mean, in whatever order…"

But Monk was already shaking her head. "I cannot take that much time away from my mission. Great evil will not wait to be vanquished; it will punish the world until we stop its progress."

"Actually… it can wait."

"What?"

"Okay, so this might be a little high-concept for you, but…" Normally, we would put her through the big challenge and unlock some new abilities — don't ask, spoilers and all — once she had proven herself before she got to know any of this, but I could give her a few basics. "Time stands still in here. More or less. So when you're in here, it's like everything has stood still out there."

The Monk blinked a few times, sitting perfectly still.

"Think about it this way; imagine you're on a surfboard-"

"No, no, I already think I understand. I am just… confused as to how this can be true. You also will not tell me where this really is, and why I can come here from so many different doorways. It is magic, yes? But what kind of magic can be so powerful?"

Damn, that would teach me to underestimate a badass amazonian warrior monk.

"That's… a secret. You might find out someday. But yeah, take a load off, rest and recuperate. Then you can head out in the morning, ready to kick primal caboose - and it will be like you never left. Trust me."

Chuckling a little at my wordplay, she said, "You are… very kind." Then she took another long drink. "Very well. I will do this, because there is wisdom in what you say; if I am exhausted, I will stumble, and cannot be the best hero for our world that I can be."

"There ya go. That's all I was trying to say."

"Do you have a hot bath? It is very good for relaxing the sore muscles."

~ o ~

"What a player."

"Hey, watch it, kid. I didn't 'play' anything."

"You got her into a bath."

"Uh, yeah, in another room. I promise, not one second did I spend in the same room as the bath. I saw nothing."

"Hmmmm."

"Do you want to hear the rest of this story or not?"

"Actually… I'm not sure. It's starting to sound like it's too personal for me to hear."

"Oh."

"What?"

"No, you're just always such a busybody that I kind of expected you to keep drinking this up like Kool-Aid."

"Like what?"

"It's… don't worry about that one. One day, you may be ready for the legend of the Purplesaurus Rex. I'll skip ahead a tiny bit."

~ o ~

Or a lot.

Like I said, not a dang thing happened other than me giving her some hospitality. Yes, I got to see what she would look like in a blue robe after her bath, which was kind of exciting in a weird way. It was like she was closer to me because she was becoming part of the Order — even though that was a ways off. Still gave me a little cold chill.

Monk had been through quite a bit by the time there was another shift. We sparred a few more times, shared meals and conversations. And she came back battered and scarred, I put her back together. She slid me all the Time Shards she found in the past and I did what I could for her with them. We were definitely friends, and probably somewhere in the best friend category, no matter what the Artificer says about him and me. The Prophet is actually his bro.

And she underwent her Trial. More on that for you when you're ready.

Don't give me that look. Be a big boy and wait your turn.

God's honest truth was, it hurt my soul a little to see her becoming a bit more jaded. Not a lot; don't get me wrong, she was still the strongest Messenger I've ever known, and brave, and like a ray of sunshine in a Dark Cave. But I could see the cracks forming in her heart that anyone got when they faced great evil day in and day out.

That's why I tried to give her so many breaks. More and more often, she would sleep on the futon I got for her, since she had outright refused to use a real Western bed; said it wasn't good for her back. I've heard it both ways, but didn't want to argue. And we laughed, trained, ate, and generally got very comfortable with each other. Even though to her, it was like we only met up once every few days. But to me, I saw her all the time ��� not that I'm complaining, of course.

My Monk had just come back from a particularly brutal battle in which she managed to restore Rivière Turquoise to its former glory. This time, I wanted to surprise her with something a little fancier. Don't ask me how, but I got my hands on some damn good sushi, and a bottle of sake. I knew she didn't believe in imbibing alcohol while she was on mission because it dulled the senses and ability to react, which I can't argue with, but I also knew this one was going to mean she needed to rest up and recuperate more than usual. I was grateful to steal more time with her whenever I could. Oh, I wasn't going to do anything to force that, but I sure as hell wasn't going to fight against it, either; I would just appreciate every moment we had together.

Remind me to tell you the story about the crystal pumpkin patch sometime.

She was leaning pretty heavily on her staff when she came in. I felt my stomach drop. Was she going to make it? I hurried out from behind my desk and helped her along.

"I am fine," she hissed through her teeth.

"Liar."

"I do not lie! I… I will be fine. That is the truth."

"Yeah, well… can you tell me what hurts? Your leg?" A reluctant nod as we entered my sparkly, sparkly room. Like, seriously, if you ever saw it you wouldn't be able to get over it, man. "Alright, we're officially giving you a vacation."

"I do not… want…" But a heavier wince made her bite her lips and nod. "Yes. I do not want to… fail at our mission, so I will… do as you say."

"Thank you. And hey, it's not gonna be so bad. Do you… do you wanna eat? Maybe you're not in the mood to eat."

"I must," she told me with a half-snort. I was sure she was smiling, even though I couldn't see. "If I am to heal, I must have nutrition, yes?"

So we ate. I made sure the sake was hot, both to soothe her aches and because like, it's supposed to be hot. Cold sakes are a different thing. Anyway, she told me all about her fight to help bring her buddy, the Butterfly Matriarch, in and dispel all the creepy crawlies. Fun stuff, but I'm trying to avoid that story-within-a-story thing so I'll just say she's kind of amazing. In case you haven't figured that out already.

"Ohhh, that was perfect," she sighed as she relaxed back against her chair.

"Thanks. I ordered it myself."

"So modest. You still wished for me to have this wonderful meal. I feel… appreciated. Cared for." We shared a smile, even though neither of us could see the other's mouth. We just knew. "And a little affected by the cups."

Trying to tease, I said, "Oh, you got drunk? Off just that?"

"Not 'drunk'," she huffed playfully. "I said 'affected'."

"How affected, then? Do you wanna take a nap before we get you that hot bath?"

"No. I just want to continue to speak with you, and to relax. We can do both of these together." I could see her glance at me, then away. "My arms are very sore."

"Yeah, I bet they are."

Another tiny hesitation. "I might want some help washing my back."

"Oh, right — I have a back scrubber. It's just mine, so I didn't wanna assume you would want to use it after me. Some people are funny about sharing stuff like that."

~ o ~

"WOW."

"Listen, I know you are probably all suave and cool with the ladies, Mr. Forever Alone Ninja, but I definitely didn't have any game. And hanging around alone in a shop for years on end doesn't polish that social skill, either."

"Right, but even I know when someone asks for help with washing their back, they don't mean they just want you to get them a brush."

"Yeah, yeah…"

"No, no, it's kind of cute."

"Excuse me?"

"You act so all-wise and all-knowing all the time that it's nice to hear you being very human."

"I do not act like that."

"You totally do."

"No. I'm just serious about my job."

"Then why are you always sharing stories about your eternal wisdom?"

"Not once have I said 'eternal wisdom'. I just like to contemplate the complexities of the universe, and try to unravel a few of them. I think every well-rounded mind does the same."

"Well, I don't."

"Did I stutter?"

~ o ~

Anyway, if you're through interrupting… yes, she did blink stupidly at me as if waiting for me to catch up. You might be rude, but you're not wrong.

"You… want me to…?"

"I apologise," she breathed with a low bow, her balaclava brushing the table just in front of her plate. "This was too forward of me."

"No, no way! I only… I didn't want to make any… yeah, I'm not good at this kind of thing."

"At washing another's back?"

"No, at…" I stopped when she started to giggle. "You're mocking me. Great. I really am the world's biggest idiot."

"You are not. But I think it is sweet that you do not want to… corrupt me, perhaps. You are so wise and your heart is so pure."

Trying to make myself keep talking before her praise really caught up to me and the stammering began, I blurted out, "Yours, too. I mean, you really are the best person I've ever known in my life. And I've known persons."

We both laughed a little at that last part, starting to relax. She rose from the table with some difficulty, and I was quick to put my arm around her, and hers around my neck, helping to support her as she made her way into the bathroom.

"In our temple," she began to tell me as I turned on the tap to fill the tub with hot water, dumping some bubbles in distractedly, "there is no modesty. Our order is only women, and there is nothing to fear. The males of our clan are much the same in their temple, though they are not warriors in the same way we are."

"Matriarchal society? That's pretty neato."

"We also… will take lovers, at times. Some from the other temple, some from the same temple. Some from both. All is equal to us."

The way she spoke as she began to unwind the bindings around her forearms and calves was very careful, contemplative. I could see her watching me for reactions, as if hoping I wouldn't freak out and say she came from a bunch of weirdos.

"That sounds like an amazing place," I reassured her. And I meant that from the bottom of my heart.

"Yes. One day, I may take you there if it is possible. They frown on visitors inside the temple, but I could show you the grounds."

Why did that sound like a dream come true? I mean, even though taking a tour of a hidden monk temple where they trained the world's best badasses would be cool regardless, going with her… "Yeah. Maybe once all this settles down, we can do that. Sounds like one of the best places ever."

"I have always felt this way. If not for my calling, I would love to finish my days there, making our order the greatest it can be."

"Must be nice." When I saw her reach for the lapel of her gi, I turned away and put my hand over my eyes; never can be too careful.

"You are shy."

Called out. "Well, nah. It just… it's no big deal where you're from but it is where I'm from. Especially for complicated reasons I won't go into. So I'm just gonna… not."

"I respect that," she told me deferentially. There was a quiet splash, a few more noises of shifting around in water. "I am covered. You added soap to this bath?"

When I turned back and saw that she was, indeed, up to her shoulders in suds, I let out a sigh of relief. Laugh if you will, but I was already all twitchy just from the situation as it was; I didn't think I could handle more than that. "Well, it's a special soap."

"What makes it special?"

"The way it looks and smells," I answered honestly. "I thought about bath-bombing you, but I don't have any on hand, and I already made a special trip for the sushi."

She looked over her shoulder. Of course she still had the balaclava on; even in the bath. Weird but it seemed to be a thing. "You would cause my bath to explode?"

"Oh… no, it's… nevermind." I pulled up a tiny stool and perched it behind her, picking up the soap and a washcloth and dipping it into the water. Would music be too much? I did have a jukebox… no, I decided it was too much. "Hope I'm not getting too irritating."

"Irritating? In what way?"

"Demanding you hang back and rest. I know you know it's important and don't need me telling you; I'm really not trying to parent you or anything."

Her head shook very slightly as she reached up to begin undoing her head-cone-things. That surprised me; since she left the veil on, I thought those would stay in place, too. "It is not a bother. Sometimes…" She hesitated, both with words and actions. "Sometimes I do become focused on my task and I forget to rest, especially when the task is so great."

"Oh, I don't think it's so great," I tried to joke. She only looked puzzled; I had to stop doing that. "I mean, it's rough that we have to put you through this. Crucial for our survival, but rough."

"Yes, I understand this very well. I know you would not wish to put anyone in danger if it were not important."

All I wanted was to keep my mind focused on the task at hand, and on our conversation. Not on how strong and graceful her back was, her shoulders, her slender neck… honestly, that "broke the mold" joke is stupid. I usually hate it. But with Monk? Yeah. There aren't any others like her in at least five space-time continuums — and that's just how she looks.

"Keeper?"

"Hm?"

"I said that your hands are very gentle. Was this the wrong thing to say?"

"Sorry," I laughed nervously. "Normally I'm more eloquent than this. I blame TV."

"Tee-vee?"

"Nevermind." Ugh, I said I was going to stop doing that! All she was doing was being her usual self and I was tripping all over myself like a noob. "Thanks, I'm… trying to help as best I can. It's not just a job, it's an adventure."

At least that dated reference just sounded like a normal phrase.

"This is not so adventurous," she said with a soft chuckle, her eyes smiling at me. Smizing; I got Monk smizing, I was stepping on cloud nine. "But I would have it no other way."

"Yeah, you don't want to have to jump over spike pits on your downtime, too."

"Not this. I meant…" She turned carefully in the water — I could tell it was out of respect for me and how shy I was, trying not to make me see anything I wasn't ready for. Honestly an angel. "It is an honour to share this quiet peace. I sense the sweetness of your soul, and the pains that have brought you to this place and time. Even though I have met your brothers, I do not feel this connection I feel with you."

~ o ~

"You have brothers?"

"Don't worry about that."

"I'm gonna worry about it."

"See, that's the problem with you. Even when I give you what you've been clamoring for, this extremely private story, you still complain that I'm not giving you every last niggling detail. You must be a riot at parties."

"…"

"Now stop interrupting."

~ o ~

Actually, you know what? You need to learn that actions have consequences. Even unintended actions. In this case, nagging and interrupting and generally being a bad listener aren't even unintended, so we're skipping the rest of the bath. No - don't make that face at me, you spoiled shinobi. I had a rhythm going and you threw me off, so I'm just going to advance to the next checkpoint. Maybe if you were a better audience I'd teach you how to do that in your mission. It's actually super easy.

Nope, too late now. You played yourself.

Once she was clean and I was glad I had my hood up to hide my glowing red face, she had changed into a spare robe and I tossed her outfit in the laundry. Like, that was the least I could do. We sat in front of the fireplace — hey, there's a fireplace — and relaxed in silence for a little while. When I got anxious, I put on some music from the jukebox; might as well.

"Ohhh, this is very interesting," she told me as she sipped from the water glass I also got her. Yeah, I'm a real charmer, pulling out all the stops. "I have not heard music like this before… I am not sure how to feel about it."

"Yeah, it's called hair metal."

"It is made from metal and hair?" When I was just silent, she laughed. "I am sorry. I have sensed that you are from a very different world from mine, and I am not familiar with your customs. But I have seen how you try to accommodate my ignorance."

"No, no, not ignorance. Just… okay, yeah, that is the right word. But it's only because you've never even had the chance to see my world. I'd give you a crash course, but I feel like it would be a lot of random stuff you just don't need, especially when you're trying to focus on the mission and all."

Monk crossed her legs comfortably. When the hem pulled up past her foot, I had a random thought: that bare ankle would really get me going if I was from a bygone period of history… but then I realized that I was in a bygone period of history from my own perspective.

Yes, there's your big spoiler: I'm from an advanced civilization. You should be able to figure that out by looking around this shop.

"And after my mission?"

"What?"

"When I am finished battling the Primal Fear and any other forces of darkness; when I restore peace. May I return to hear about your world?"

I don't know why this caught me by surprise. Honestly, it shouldn't have; we got along pretty well, but I still was shook. "You'd want to come back?"

"Of course. Are we not becoming friends?"

"Yeah! I mean, of course, I could consider us pretty good friends by now. I just didn't want to assume… I mean, it could be a work-friends deal."

"Work-friends?"

"You know, we're comrades-in-arms. Doesn't have to mean we want to hang out after the war is over… but I would, for sure," I was quick to reassure her. I didn't want to even leave one second in which she thought I was done when this was done.

"Ahh, yes, I understand this." She bowed her head slightly. "Thank you for considering my feelings. Even if…"

My heart froze as I waited for her to respond. Finally, I said, "Even if…?"

"Even if you do not understand them. I thought I was making them clear. But I know it is perhaps not what you expected — especially from a woman. Our masters teach us that not everyone's minds are as open as those of our order-"

"I'm gonna stop you there. Where I'm from, most people are open like that. A few are still stuck in the bigoted past of our own region, sure, but… you're not scaring me off. In fact, I…"

Now it seemed to be Monk's turn to hold her breath. I felt bad seeing her lean toward me a little and whisper, "Yes?"

"Sorry. I've actually never felt like this about anyone before. Didn't think I could. So I just… normally I know what to say, but I never developed this skill."

"Do you?" She looked away slightly. I mean, the opening of her hood did; I could tell even less what she was thinking or feeling with that hood up. Makes me sympathize with even you. "I had told myself that my heart was foolish. You were not from our world, your women did not accept feelings from women, or… you only felt friendship for me. I would have understood."

"Oh, same, same," I reassured her quickly. "We really- sheeze, this is some sitcom BS."

"Hm?"

Leaning over, I took one of her hands. Hard as it was to push through my hangups and self-esteem issues when it came to this kind of thing, no way was I going to leave it up to Monk to make every move. This was about both of us; it should be both of us moving forward. I might look lazy sitting behind my counter all day every day, but no. I'm not lazy. I don't believe in laziness at all.

"If you're sure… then yes. I'm right there with you."

Her breath caught, and her other hand came up to hold onto both of ours. Her hands were somehow both soft and rough; a result of her being so gentle but training so hard. I kinda loved that.

"Then we are here together."

"I guess so. I don't know where 'here' is gonna be, but I'm… I am absolutely ready to find out if you are."

Monk laughed at me a little as we both stood up. "This is a simple journey, Keeper. I have traveled it before, though the destination was a parting. Perhaps with you… we will not part."

"So, a lot of guys in your past?" I guessed. She shook her head. "Girls?"

No comment. Instead, all she did was push our hoods together and…

~ o ~

"What, no interruption?"

"Are you kidding? You made it pretty clear I was interrupting too much before."

"Wow. He CAN be taught."

"But I do have to confess, I'm… surprised about a couple of things."

"Go on?"

"Well, first of all… you know."

"What?"

"…"

"I mean, does it really matter? Whichever of the two things that are immediately coming to mind. I don't think either of them matter in the long run."

"I suppose it doesn't. Especially since we're supposed to be worrying about defeating evil, not morality."

"Morality. Right."

"But I hope you two are happy together."

"Yes, well… that's another story for another time. Not this one in this time."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's fine. I haven't even explained the rest of what happened. But you should probably get going; there's a lot of violent jerks out there to take down."

"Yes, I do want to stop the Demon King. But take care of yourself, alright?"

"Always do."

"And I'll be back for what happened later."

"Oh, I know. You never seem to get enough of these stories, no matter what I do to discourage you from asking me to tell them. So I'm sure I'll see you again soon."

"I'm sure you will."

~ o ~

Okay. He's gone. I wasn't about to tell that little pervy ninja all the sordid details; it would distract him too much from the mission. But you? I guess I could let you hear the rest. Obviously you're still here, so you must have an insatiable curiosity.

No, not the ninja. You. Can't you tell I'm talking to you now?

All the Monk did was push our hoods together and ghost her lips over mine. Such a simple start to something so powerful. My experiences were very limited but I knew enough to know this was bigger than anything else I had experienced before.

That was without my poor brain trying to figure out how in the hell I got Monk interested in me. Monk. We didn't even know each other's names! I know that in the end, a name can only tell you so much about a person, but it still seems like some kind of prerequisite for a meaningful relationship.

"I have been too forward."

"No, no," I was very quick to reassure her as my hand moved up to rest on her shoulder. "Just forward enough. One of us has to do something or we'll never get anywhere."

We stood awkwardly for a long moment, trying to figure out where to go from there. We shared another kiss, a little longer, a little more firm. Her lips were as soft as the pressure was strong, and I was living for that contrast. Our hands explored each other's bodies through those blue robes that served a function we both felt was becoming increasingly unimportant in this current moment.

"How… will we proceed?"

"Huh?"

Voice coming over a little shy, she continued quietly, "I… think you have figured out by now that you cannot see my face. My clan will not allow it. And neither will yours, is it not true?"

"It's… discouraged, yeah." My fingers ghosted over lips I could not see in the darkness under her hood. "And I really wish that wasn't the same, because I bet you're the most beautiful woman on the planet. Maybe a few planets."

At least I could make her laugh. But the laughter turned sad towards the end. I knew she was fighting certain feelings and needs warring within herself, and I wanted nothing more than to push a button and solve that war for her. No human as phenomenal as her should have to endure such inner conflict. But the world is a crappy place sometimes.

"We… cannot. But perhaps if there were no lights…"

She had a good point. That was about the only way we could probably move forward. So I reached both hands over my head… and clapped twice, plunging my room into utter darkness save for the dim flicker of the fire in the fireplace.

"What- what is this magic?"

"The Clapper. It's an ancient artifact from another reality; pretty mundane stuff there. But if you ordered one, they would give you a second one for free - you just had to pay separate processing and handling."

"Oh I see. I should not be impressed, and so I am not." The playfulness in her voice sent a tingle down my spine. "Have you trained in darkness to sharpen your senses?"

"Yeah. It's been a while, but…"

Maybe I imagined it, but there was a slight lilt in her voice as her hand slid down my forearm to take mine. "I will lead you."

She led me. Even though she had only been in my room a handful of times, she pulled me through the darkened room over to my bed as if this were her room and I was the guest. I don't know about you, but that kind of confidence does things for me. Butterfly-stomach things.

"Can your clapper extinguish the fire? There is still some light."

Knowing it was corny as hell, I leaned in to whisper, "Nothing can extinguish my fire." At least it worked; she kissed me again with no waiting, hands clasping at my back and shoulders.

The best part was, we both forgot to care about anything else as the passion roared, our need to be as close as we could be overpowering our caution and duty to preserve our secrets. Or modesty for that matter. The firelight was low enough that I still couldn't see her face; just outlines of shapes. But I knew if I could see more I would think her no less beautiful than I already did.

Even with our hormones cranked to eleven, there was a brief intermission once we were bare to each other and our bodies pressed flush.

"Oh? O-oh."

"Monk-"

"I… I see. You truly are from another world."

"Sorry, I know I might not be what you expected. Say the word and we can put those robes back on, or I can go check to see if your gi is dry."

I more felt than saw her head shaking as she kissed her way down my chest. "Do you think I cannot rise to such a simple challenge as this? How you underestimate me."

"No, never. I'm just trying not to overestimate me."

"You do not," she breathed kindly against my hip before kissing it. And that was it. No messy overreactions, no long talks needed. We connected and it was pretty great.

Acceptance can mean everything sometimes.

Not to get too detailed, and I'm still not going to get as detailed as you might wish I would, but neither of us is known for slacking off exactly. We were fit and we were determined, and it took a couple of hours and a dozen different positions before we were both satisfied completely. Even then, we still lay panting on our backs with some of our limbs entwined, not wanting to be too far from each other.

"Well… that was a thing."

"It was a very good thing. I… I am relieved that I did not do anything… which did not please you."

"Huh? Oh, it's all good. I'm not even usually that interested in, uh, in this. But you're different. You… make me want so much more."

Monk rolled to curl her form around me, and I tell you what, I almost started it all off again. I wanted to, and felt like I could have, which is pretty rare for me, to be honest. She just felt that phenomenal. "I am different?"

"N-not in a bad way. Not at all."

"Yes. Well, I feel the same for you; I am… delighted at our differences. Exploring this with you was very enlightening, and… and I have very much enjoyed every revelation."

Man, when was the last time I smiled this much? I don't know. Probably never. "Right back at you." Experimenting with a very unfamiliar action, I kissed her temple, and she hummed her appreciation. So that went well, I guess.

"You have given me so much. Today, you have given me something twice."

"Oh, so that was twice. Cool. I wondered if… well, you made beautiful noises and all, but it didn't have to mean-"

"It did mean this," she reassured me, and we both laughed a little. "I have another question."

"Shoot."

"It is really alright for me to rest? I feel restless, as if I must confront the evil right now. But you have assured me that time will not pass here. If… this is really true…"

I turned to face her. In the dark. Why? Don't ask me, it was a natural reaction. "Yeah, it is. Why, what's up?"

"Then I would choose to stay with you for another day."

"Why?" Another automatic reaction; I tried to fix that. "I mean, u-uh, yeah. Yeah, definitely. There's no one to come into the shop since you're the current Messenger, so I don't really have to go to work. And… there's nowhere else I'd rather be than this bed, with you."

Listen. It might have been a line, but some of that stuff just comes out naturally when you catch the big L-word. And I was pretty sure I was terminal.

"You cannot mean this." She hesitated, then pressed that goddamn hot yoga body right up against me even harder. "But if you do, only after passing one night together, then I will stay."

"You'll stay," I agreed, unable to believe my ears. "A-and, uh… don't worry, we'll robe up again when we have to move."

"Thank you. I want to see your face, and I have known your desire to see mine is strong. If not for the ways of my clan…"

I nodded. "Yeah, I get it. And it's not as hard and fast for mine; more like a suggestion to keep things clean and easy. But it only feels right that we both respect it so it's not, y'know, one-sided."

"Yes, I understand this feeling. But if you wanted to show me, I would feel no anger."

"Noted." That teasing hand between my thighs made me hiss, "Wow, you are- this is more than I expected."

"You are more than I expected. And you are ready for another… sparring session?"

"I, uh… I really don't think we should call it that." Feeling bold, I moved my hand to the corresponding area on her body, and I probably enjoyed her gasp of surprise a little too much. Oh well. "Seems like we're in the same boat."

I could just barely hear a laugh — because she was busy rolling over on top of me, kneeling, her hips over my hips. Then to my surprise, she started raising one of my legs up to drape over her shoulder, shifting herself sideways until she was positioned above my thigh still resting on the bed. And if that doesn't paint a good enough word picture for you, well, I'm not going to try again.

"You are familiar with… the Splitting Bamboo?"

"I… I, uh…" I had read the Kama Sutra, yes. Did I remember every position? No. I just never imagined I would need to know them for any reason, at all. Not until this phenomenal Monk entered my life and did her best to turn it upside-down.

"You will become familiar with it. Tonight."

Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy…

  EPILOGUE

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what? That we're playing Twenty Questions? Oh — right, because we're not doing that."

"That you were sending me off to fight your ex-girlfriend."

"You know what? This, right here. This is the reason you're not even my favorite ninja from the village. Rock Lesieur would have been way less of a pain in the tail…"

"…"

"Fine. Yes, the Queen of Quills is the Monk. Or at least… I'm certain of it now."

"You weren't before?"

"Just had a fairly strong feeling she was."

"Shopkeeper, I will search for a way to get her out of that swamp."

"Marsh."

"What?"

"It's a marsh, not a swamp."

"What's the difference?"

"Swamps have more trees. In fact, they should have a lot of trees, while marshes usually just have shrubbery, et cetera. And fungi, as you probably picked up on."

"Oh. Wow, learn something new every day."

"Don't try to sound smart now that you just had your ignorance gap filled."

"…okay, I'm going."

"Wait."

"What?"

"Thanks. For offering. I don't really believe there is a way to save her now that she's been so far gone for so long, but… maybe the fact that her form is…"

"…"

"Nevermind. I'm not getting my hopes up. Just go do what you do best."

"I'll try. See you soon."

"Fingers crossed."

~ o ~

Listen, I know I'm a little harsh on the kid. But he needs it if he's ever going to be a big strong Blue Robe.

A little bow on top of this story — just for you, not for him. The last thing a guy like that who already has a swelled head needs is yet more swelling. Therefore, he doesn't get to know the full details of this ending.

We did the thing. Every last scrap of evil we could find on Messenger Island had been eradicated. And of course, the issue was, there was no time while we were busy trying not to wind up as scurubu-chow for my old flame and I to reconnect and decide how we felt about everything. Crazy how near-apocalypses can kill the mood like that.

While everybody was patting each other on the back, and old Phantom was trying to catch up on all he missed thanks to the efforts of the Artificer and the Prophet's conversational skills, I managed to steal Monk away to my room — where Ninja still couldn't follow us. Don't worry, he and Iron Hood were chatting about collectible figurines or some crap; they were occupied. Nobody was a total wallflower in this we-defeated-Demon King-finally celebration.

"Keeper of my Heart!" she breathed as soon as the door was closed, throwing her arms around me. That familiar weight, the firm muscle beneath her soft, well-worn gi, breathed new life into me that I hadn't even noticed was absent when she was absent. It was like a rebirth.

"Shhh, shhh," I soothed her when I heard the tears begin. Someone so strong and she was breaking for me… or maybe she was strong enough to break around another person. "I got you, Monkey. Oh geeze, I missed you so much…"

By the time we could actually talk again, I had brewed us some non-Astral tea and we were sitting in my new chairs. Oh yeah, I got new chairs; they had slight cushions to the seats. I decided there was no reason to sit on rigid wood when you could add a dash of comfort. At the same time, I didn't want to add too much comfort, or they would be… you aren't listening. You stopped listening and at this point, I'm almost entirely certain you are skimming through this paragraph to see where the next interesting development comes about. Fine, I guess I won't mince words, since you don't appreciate them anyway. Unless you did legitimately read this far, then all is forgiven, naturally.

"Have you told the others?"

"Huh? Told them what?"

She dipped her head the tiniest bit in chagrin. Shoot me, but that was the cutest thing ever. "Of who we are to each other."

"Are? I mean, I haven't seen you in… it really has been a long time. Even here. So I've just been mourning on my own time, when I haven't been hand-holding that cloud-stepping goofball out there."

"He is not so bad," she laughed softly, her balaclava rustling slightly as she looked down into her cup. "After all… he made it possible for you and I…"

She had me there. I leaned forward on my forearms to whisper, "I would babysit for his kids for the rest of my life if that was what it took. And I hate kids."

"Ah, yes, I remember you mentioning this to me. No matter." She took a contemplative sip before setting the cup down on the table. "Keeper, I want to tell them."

"Tell them what?" She just blinked. "Oh, about that. Why? Do we really need to complicate things by-"

"I am proud to be close to you. For us to have paired our hearts together for all time. Are you not proud of the very same?"

Well, when she put it like that… "That's not what this is. Of course I wouldn't mind having the hottest Monk in the world on my arm, but I kind of also… like… it's silly."

"Tell me."

"I like having you all to myself. My little secret — me being your little secret. But…" I sighed, turning my own teacup. "You're right. It's been fun, but we lost too much time. I don't want to waste more trying to be cagey and sneak around, when we can just come out to everybody as here-and-queer."

"We are coming somewhere queer?"

"Hey, we tried that once, and it was uh… different," I half-joked. But then, of course, I did the legit explaining. "But this time, what I meant was, uh, that we aren't a 'traditional couple' according to some people. They might look at us funny. But I would never let that stop me, and I know in your culture it's not even a thing, anyway."

The corners of her eyes crinkled in vague bemusement. And love. It still struck me temporarily dumb to see so much affection in those deep, contemplative eyes of hers.

"I know you would not. For you are far braver than most of those who wear the blue robe think. I know that if your ninja had failed to save me, you would have done it yourself."

"Oh yeah? And how do you know that? You act like I'm just such a useless gay that-"

Her fingers were suddenly covering my mouth, which she found so easily despite the presence of my hood. Closer and closer, she slid as she pressed me down into my chair, and I was so mesmerized by her eyes…

…that I almost missed a magical new detail. The faintest hint out of the corner of my eye of beautiful lips, ones I still had yet to see until that second, forming words that spawned brand new butterflies.

"Not useless. Never useless to me, Keeper of my Heart."

Then she was kissing me, and I couldn't worry that I had seen more than I should have, or that she was going to be mad, or that her clan was going to throw her out, or any of that. All I could think was that she was beautiful, she was strong, she was wise, she was… everything. Whatever crazy notion made her think I was worthy of her, it would be really stupid to look a gift-horse in the mouth.

Because against all the odds, I had my Monk back. That was the gift that kept on giving.

Which is the end of this story. There are other stories, about her donning the blue robes for good, and then there was this thing with an alternate dimension because their Corrupted Future was trying to spread, and those two worlds… but I'm putting a pin in those. Not even you could handle most of them, anyway, much less my hapless Ninja friend. Maybe someday, you'll be ready.

And not just for the stories.

Just promise me, when it's your turn… don't be so oblivious you can't figure out the scroll is a map. I mean, seriously, who doesn't open a scroll when carrying it for days on end? Some people are just born clueless. Don't be those people.

Be like my Monk. Flawless. Yeah, do that.

THE END

[messenger-of-babel]

The Call

Summary: One little call to each of them. One big consequence. (Batfamily x sibling!reader)

Word Count: 2.9K

Notes: IM LATE AGAIN. I hope you all know that I do stay up wildly late when this happens cause I want to edit before I submit, even if some of these were pre-written (its 1:30AM RAHH). ANWAYS. Batfamily, I tried to get as many as I could but I haven't collected runs for about half the family cause I am biased towards my boys, but I am trying to be as accurate as possible when I can be and that includes those dynamics! So rest assured I am doing my research and hopefully that'll reflect soon. As usual, enjoy your daily feed and I'll enjoy my nap. Warnings just for general description of violence.

Much Love~! xx

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When Dick got the call, he was in his civilian clothes.

Dick Grayson was suit shopping, needing something for an upcoming gala. He had put it off for so long, since he wore the Nightwing suit more than any other in his closet. He had let it ring out once while he got his measurements taken, but when they called back a second time, his lips dipped into a frown. Excusing himself, he clicked the answer call button, stating his name. He hears the voice of Bruce, but in the stern tone of Batman. He doesn’t think that he's ever left a store as fast as he had that day, feet thudding on the pavement and breath cold in his chest as he hurries to his car. He unlocks it and all but throws himself into the passenger seat, lines on his face hardening. Throwing it quickly into drive he pulls out and heads in the direction of the manor.

He tries to keep himself composed, his emotional training kicking in. His fingers are tense on the steering wheel, passing over the bridge at a speed a cop would most certainly pull him over for. Even though he tries to take a deep breath, there's a burning in his sternum. It builds until it creeps into his neck, making him click his tongue uncomfortably.

The sensation is a rage he hadn't felt in a while, a fire that hadn’t burnt that intensely since he was just a boy grieving his parents’ death. It had flickered when he had heard Bruce had adopted a boy called Jason after him, sputtering to life upon hearing about his death. Yet he had grown, he had risen above it and had become a shelter for his younger, extended family. He was dependable, uncrackable, and upbeat, that was Nightwing. Yet as he drives back with that painful fire in his chest, he felt nothing more than Dick Grayson, the boy stricken with fear at the idea of losing his family.

When Jason got the call, he had been on patrol.

Helm securely on his face, it kept the drizzly night rain of Gotham out of his eyes. It had been a rather quiet night, stopping a few minor robberies and assaults that were common down by Dixon Docks. He was eager to return home, wanting to swing by the manor quickly to take full advantage of the hot water system before heading back to his apartment in Old Gotham for a well-deserved rest. He had just finished interrogating some of Penguins' men, about to call the cave to let whoever was on tonight know that they finally had the location of the new drug den they had been chasing the past month. However, the communication device he had set on his bike was lit, screen full of notifications.

Calls, one after another filled the small holographic display and he pressed the button to call back, leg swinging over the side of the bike as he did so. He had only started the bike but already he screeched to a stop, making sure he heard the words properly. A curse and gruffly shouted questions were his only response and when he got the information he wanted, he cut the call and the bike roared to life. He leant forward as if that was going to help him get to his destination quicker, blood boiling underneath his skin. His chest ached with the urge to sputter out pants, desperate to start the sign of panic racing through his veins. Yet he was stronger than that, keeping his cool like a tightly wound coil, muscles tensed beneath the suit.

His mind buzzes with worry, anxiety gnawing at his ribcage like a feral rat.

Jason doesn't often allow himself to be emotional on the job, despite his tendency for rage.

But rage was different. Rage burned and warmed him up from the inside, was the force that he put behind every punch or kick. It was his kindling, and it served to guide him as well as any star. Of course, Bruce had tempered it somewhat, but he had just guided Jason into turning it into something else, not getting rid of entirely. He used rage to protect the people of the city, the outrage he felt when he saw them get treated badly. He used rage when coming to his family's defence, the sight of hands being laid on people he had come to care for sparking it too. Those were the rages he was used to using, although there was always a third.

The pit.

The rage that bubbled away in the back of his mind, hidden behind a tall wall and shoved into the deepest part of him. That was the rage that crept forth, green and poisonous in his veins and clouding his judgement in a fog of pain and despair and anger. When it would appear, he would often take a moment to himself to pack it back away, contain it once more in the bulletproof casing of his heart. Yet right now, he didn't want to put it back. It made him rev the bike harder, made him feel like he was getting there quicker. The bike kicked up water as he zig zagged through the back streets, his mental map of Gotham rerouting anytime the traffic was longer than five cars deep. He couldn't afford to lost time, to not be fast enough. Not now, not this time, and if he had to use the rage the pit cursed him with, he would.

Tim was at the manor, holed up in his room when he got the call.

It had been a long night the night before, tossing restlessly. Not that he would have told anyone, but the last fight with Bane had left him with a few more bruises than he had let on, cleverly hidden from the keen eyes of Alfred. He wanted to nurse them himself, carry his own weight. In fact, he had been sulking in his room going over the things that had been troubling him, knees pulled to his chest.

Dick was capable and dependable, and the first Robin, the biggest shoes to fill. Jason was tenacious but loved deeply, and he fought for what was right. His methods might be unconventional to the Bat sometimes, but he knew what he wanted to fight for. Steph had flown the nest to become Spoiler, Cass already had such a firm grasp of who she wanted to become now that she was Orphan. Barbara had even been able to turn her life around after being put into her wheelchair, her desire to help leading her to become Oracle when she had to hang up Batgirl. Even Damian, the true son of Bruce Wayne, was so confident, growing at a rate he knew Bruce was quietly proud of.

But then there was Tim, who stayed up on weekends trying to redesign his suit, to carve his own vigilante life, only to look on it and see the traces of his time as Robin printed clearly on it. The role of Robin had outgrown him, but there was the shred of doubt that whispered in his ear that just maybe, he hadn't outgrown it. The ringing of his phone snapped him out of his daze, and he let it go to voicemail. When it came again, he grabbed his phone with the desire to turn it off, but seeing the emergency signal had him picking up right away.

"Hello?" he called, sitting right up in bed. His eyes widened and he shelved his pity party, running out of his room.

He winds through the halls of the manor until he finds the door he's looking for. Tim's knuckles rap against the wood loudly, repeating until a disgruntled Damian comes to the door, swinging it open violently. "This better be good, Drake." he deadpans, scanning the flustered state of the older boy. Tim just turns his phone screen, showing the emergency call signal before gesturing to the direction of the grandfather clock with his head. "We've got to go." he says curtly, the young boy hot on his heels after he recovers from his shock.

Both of them head to the cave and prepare to depart immediately. Tim slips the suit over his skin like an outgrown shedding, domino mask sliding onto his face. He couldn’t recognise his own face when he caught sight of it in the glass reflection, but a mask and suit would never be enough to hide the panic that clung to him tighter than the Red Robin suit.

When Bruce got the call, he was at Wayne Enterprises.

He was making a rare appearance at the office, knowing that Lucius had something that he wanted to talk to him about. His office felt foreign and sterile, empty and unreal. The glass surfaces everywhere let him glimpse the face of Bruce Wayne, a face that he was beginning to see less and less. It felt uncanny seeing himself without the cowl, and sometimes when he was working, he could swear he saw a reflection of the bat ears in the window beside him. The night had dragged on, and he was only an hour into the meeting with Lucius when the phone in his suit pocket rang.

He and Lucius shared a sceptical look as he turned the phone screen. The call location wasn't displaying as the Batcave, the only place that could contact this phone directly outside of his children, Lucius and Alfred's personal mobile. Yet he knew Red Hood was taking the brunt of patrol tonight, and Bruce was intended to join him after the meeting. Dick was carrying out some errands downtown and everyone else had either stayed home or didn't contact him like this often. The girls preferred to call his phone as Bruce Wayne or spoke through Alfred, so who could it be?

Lucius gives a nod, silent as he sits down. Bruce's face hardens as he presses the speaker button, accepting the call.

"Who is this?" he says, lowering his voice to the gravelly timbre of Batman.

"Da...B-Batman?" comes a broken, shaky voice on the other end. Lucius's eyes widen and flick to Bruce's immediately, mouth parting. Bruce's jaw ticks, eyes widening as well when he hears your voice.

"This is the Batman. How did you get this number?" He asks, having to focus on keeping his voice low, even though the tone of Bruce threatens to creep back in.

"He-he just had it. I don't know. He just told me to speak, I-I'm not even holding the phone I can't see anything; I’m tied, my eyes are-" you begin to ramble, struggling to get through your words before you're cut off.

"Hello, Batsy." calls a voice close to the receiver, and Bruce swore that his heart fell through the floor in that moment. His fingers tighten around the phone the same way that his lungs are constricting in his chest.

"Joker."

The man on the other end cackles, if Bruce could even call him that. "Miss me?" he snickers, Bruce's mind filling with the image of a red stretched grin. "You see, this is more of a... courtesy call. You know Bruce Wayne, billionaire extraordinaire?"

Bruce's head snaps up to Lucius, who's rubbing at his face nervously.

He didn't know, did he?

"You see, I didn't make a lot of impact going after the commissioner last time, so I had to think to myself, If I wanted to really shake things up in Gotham, who else is there? Then I thought of it, who better than the playboy of the century?" he laughs, punctuated with a sharp snap of his fingers.

"Get to the point." Bruce all but growls.

"Yeah yeah, you always love to rush me, don't you?" The Joker snarks back with fake hurt, before continuing. "Regardless, I have one of his little orphan projects, thinking I might have a bit more success with this one."

He hears a thwack over the phone and a scream, making his nails dig into his palm. He steadies his breathing.

"What have you done?" he asks, low and dangerous.

Another thwack.

"Exactly what I said. But there was a rumour going around that you know Mr. Money, so I thought I'd give you a call, you know, a little gift. If you do know the richest orphan in Gotham, then I want to give you the honour of telling him I've got one of his. Better yet, I want to give you the honour of delivering their body to his doorstep. Maybe that way, you might be able to bond over losing your fake kids."

Bruce feels sick, closing his eyes to try and stop himself from making a mistake right now.

Your life was on the line. He had to play smart.

"Where are you?"

The joker tuts on the other end. "This was a courtesy call, nothing more. I don't want anyone interrupting my playtime. Tata for now~"

"Joker-" he starts but then he's cut off, line going dead. Lucius doesn't say anything, his own personal phone pulled out as he calls Alfred, studying the frozen figure of Bruce. It's almost like there's dark tendrils to the shadows on his broad body, deepening the lines on his face.

Bruce doesn't remember too much, but Batman did.

Immediately he had left the room, suit en route to him and arriving within the minute. As soon as the comfort of his cowl touched his skin, Bruce was gone, and it was Batman calling everyone at the same time. It was Dick who picked up first, a couple of rings earlier than Jason before Tim joined, the sound of Damian in the background. Oracle and Spoiler joined together, while the others were still pending. He didn’t have the time to temper his voice as he relayed the situation, immediately getting as many people on recon as possible.

There were shouts and yelling and cursing before all of their lines became inactive, replaced with trackers signalling that their suits were live. When he enters the batmobile he grips the wheel tensely. The lump in his throat doesn't seem to disappear, only growing larger with each second. His mind is filled with pictures of Jason. Pictures of Barbara. The smiling photos of you.

He might never admit it, but he had your photos front and centre in his wallet (something you did in fact know and used to your advantage frequently in 'dad loves me more' battles). He remembers the first day he ever saw you, cold and scared apart from the other kids in the orphanage. He had been investigating a potential human trafficking ring operating out of the centre, but when he saw you, the fatherly pang hit him. The way your eyes stared forward dully as he greeted children as Bruce Wayne, cameras flashing around him. He had enough wealth to buy the children anything they asked for, the other kids excitedly asking for new toys or clothes or art supplies. However, when he kneeled down in front of you and asked you want you wanted, you said only a few words, 'a family'.

And god be damned if Bruce didn't have money enough for that too.

So, he took you in, hid batman from you like he had tried to with everyone else as well. Yet he failed again, but unlike his children in the past, you never asked to join. Never asked for a suit or to stay up or to train in the cave. Never showed any interest in joining your siblings or throwing yourself in front of danger for the sake of the city. When he asked you why you had simply shrugged, giving him a soft smile.

"All I've ever wanted was to be part of a family. I don't need to be a superhero to be loved."

And then you beamed at him with a smile that could have lit up his world and chased the clouds away from Gotham, so pure and genuinely content. That made Bruce feel like he had finally succeeded as a father, and for once Bruce felt like a father. No Batman, no mask and cape. He didn't train with you; he went out with you to the theatre on weekends. You didn't jump from rooftop to rooftop, you liked to come study with him in his office when he had to take care of Wayne affairs. Batman may have been created to save Gotham city, but he was convinced that you were sent to save Bruce Wayne.

Now, he felt that he had failed you as both Bruce and Batman.

"Hold on sweetheart," he whispers to himself, letting his eyes close for a brief moment during his exhale. "I'll get you home. I promise."

He pressed the accelerator further, Batmobile display signaling that everyone else was suited up and across the city waiting further instruction. He just hoped, he prayed that when he brought you back, it wouldn't be in a body bag.

[max-nico]

I am obsessed with soulmate characters. There is no (light) without (dark) there is no (sun) without (rain) there is no (day) without (night) there is no (joy) without (anger) there is no (red) without (green) there is no (love) without (hate) there is no (defense) without (offense) there is no (tide) without (moon) and these characters can be love interests, best friends, enemies, rivals, I DON'T CARE, but they understand each other like no one else does and where one goes the other follows

And this isn't about just grumpy x sunshine this is about one existing without the other. Characters where if you take one away a part of them gets taken with the other, characters whose lives are significantly altered by the absence of the other, characters who literally already do find each other in different universes.

[2kiran]

Hii so i just discovered ur blog and im obsessed.

Could you pls write m!reader x mace bc I bearly see any mace fic😞

Can it be like mace draging reader in a left out room before a mission and like yk..👀

-🌊

❛ 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦 ❜ ➖ osh.

pairing: mace x reader content: explicit, dom male reader, dry humping

One fact about MACE? He will take you whenever he wants. It doesn’t matter how busy or angry you might be; you’re coming with him. It’s a regular occurrence at this point—suddenly getting yanked by the wrist and ushered to some secluded area.

It isn’t any different now.

“Well, what are you waitin’ for? Take it off.”

There it is. That impatience you think you’ve grown fond of.

“Relax.” Before you’re able to grasp your belt, MACE crowds you against the wall. Impatience emerged as a huff, caught within his mask before he tugged it off of his head. Carefully, he leans in and seals his lips against yours. He breathes slowly, a hand slithering to the front of your pants.

Cupping your growing bulge, he gives a gentle squeeze in approval. “Mmmph...” He moans into your mouth, his hot tongue teasing your lips before pushing past. It’s passionate, dare you say longing, but it’s still bruising. Teeth clanking, wet muscle flicking, and he lets out a muffled whimper when he feels you harden beneath his gloved palm.

Distracting you with his wandering lips, his hands trace every inch of your body over your gear. Rough, calloused hands reach up to your shoulders, and he breaks the kiss as he shoves you to the ground. One of his gloved palms cradles the back of your head, considerate enough to not let you bang against bricks.

“The hell?”

You grunt from the impact, a boot kicking beneath your knees before he straddles your hips. “You could’ve asked me instead.” Your hands find his waist. “No fun in that.” He huffs out a chuckle, flashing a grin. Ducking his head, MACE begins to travel lower from your cheek.

“Gonna be,” a kiss to your jaw, “gone for,” the pink muscle darts out between his lips, “a few weeks.” He drags it across a patch of skin. Angling his hips forward, he grinds down on your clothed cock while sinking his teeth into your neck. It could’ve distracted you if he hadn’t bit hard enough to nearly draw blood.

“Fuck--” You inhale sharply, fingers digging into his sides. “And you’re only telling me this now?”

MACE snorts, pressing his pelvis against yours before pushing himself back. “I need my luck.” His tongue swipes around the mark, sloppily lapping and sucking on it, his drool trickling down your skin.

You quirk a brow, guiding his movements, and it takes everything in him not to restlessly grind on your dick. “How are you getting it like this?” You can feel him smile on the side of your neck, hooking a finger underneath your collar to offer a lingering kiss to your collarbone. “Still haven’t figured it out?”

His thighs suddenly lock around you before bucking against your hard-on as though he were attempting to ride you through the barriers of clothing. “You’re my lucky charm,” he pants, a whine bubbling low within his chest as he humps you like a dog, “and this damn cock. Hngh, shit, I might miss it.”

He grounds down, shifting in little circles, softly whimpering. “Just it?” You wrap an arm around him, his breath hitching. You’re able to feel how he uncontrollably throbs, his legs trembling from how he’s practically bouncing on your lap.

His pants were sticking to him uncomfortably, hard length straining against the material. “No,” He huffs, cheeks hot from embarrassment and arousal, “you know what the answer is.”

The cotton of his underwear was stained, friction numbing his brain and making him leak. MACE felt like an animal in heat, thrusting his ass back onto the outline of your cock. His brows pinched in frustration; it wasn’t enough—the emptiness has him aching.

He knows he has time to waste.

And MACE always gets what he wants.

[excaliburimlookingforheaven]

[hecalledme-jagi]

The Ponderings of a Man In Love

I've had this FanLore for Zen strewing in my brain for a little over a year and finally decided to write it out into a one shot!

Enjoy!

What does it mean to experience first love? 

Zen wondered as he watched you doze off beside him to the sound of a movie you both had forgotten about halfway through. He smiled to himself softly, gently brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen over your face, planting a tender kiss on the top of your head. The comforting gesture caused you to snuggle further into his side, cozy and loved. Treasured and wanted.

Zen often thought about the meaning of first love when he was with you. He always felt a pang of guilt over dating other girls before you, even if you weren't bothered by it. He knew you were his yesterday, today, and tomorrow--his dusk and dawn. His moon and stars--leaving him with the fact that you weren't his first, which felt wrong in every way imaginable. So there he sat wondering, and really pondering, what it meant to experience first love. Had he experienced it before? If so, that idea devastated him, leaving his heart aching, poking, splintering, and desperately wanting your comforting. Hoping all his wondering meant nothing. 

He snuggled in close, soaking in your warmth, soothing his self-inflicted wounds, nuzzling your hair, blinking back the sting of tears.

Slowly he doze off to the sound of your steady breathing, calming his anxiety. Slowly learning to bask in the simple pleasures of a quiet evening. 

His breathing steadied, finding rhythm with your own, and in complete unison, your chests rose and fell. 

He found his peace in his small basement apartment.

But absolutely and entirely, he found his peace here with you.

And in his slumber, there came a dream. Or, more accurately, a nearly forgotten memory.

Zen was younger here, much younger than you knew him now. His hair barely reached past his shoulders, fashioned into something of a mullet. His leather jacket just a size too big, but in a year's time, it would fit him perfectly. And he stood in a place filled with familiarity. His secret mountain hideout. The view was the same as it had always been, and somehow, that comforted the young boy, here now, and the man he would come to be. 

The cold evening air nipped at his cheeks and nose, a gentle breeze passing through his hair with the faint smell of cigarette smoke. Following the scent with his eyes and nose, he found a scene this young boy very well knew but was far from the scene his adult counterpart adored. There stood a girl who simply wasn't you.

Ji-an, a younger, much more boyish Hyun, recognized with an air of giddiness coating his thoughts, and in like manner, she was viewed with rose-tinted glasses. 

He admired her long black hair as it gently swayed in the passing breeze, her sharp and unusually dark eyes staring down at the view he found so much comfort in, reflecting nothing of the setting sun or the city lights flickering on one at a time. And her lips turned in a slight frown with a lit cigarette in hand. Ji-an was a girl made entirely of mysterious beauty, and for a long time, Hyun might've considered her the most beautiful girl he'd ever met. She was in the same gang as Zen, that's how they had met. She was older than him, but only slightly, maybe sixteen or seventeen. She was a force to be reconned with, a calm before a storm. Freedom and rebellion. Anger and desperation. Loneliness and devastation. But other than that, she was a total mystery. Hyun never knew more about her than she let him see, and maybe that was part of why he clung to her so helplessly. Or maybe it was because he envied her and how free she seemed to be. Maybe he wanted to live reckless abandoned where he was allowed to be who he wanted to be, the way Ji-an seemed to. Or maybe it was because bad habits always seemed more attractive than good ones at the start.

Ji-an sucked on her cigarette, holding the smoke in her throat until it burned. 

“You know,” she began as she turned to look at Hyun, “I think if we had met before everything hit the fan, I would’ve fallen in love with you for real.”

Hyun watched and admired the rugged elegance she exuded. Marvalling, despite how her words cut him deeply. His heart secretly wondering--when will anyone ever truly love me?

“For one thing, you’re a real looker,” she leaned in and kissed Hyun's lips softly, leaving the faintest taste of cigarette smoke and strawberry lip balm on the tip of his tongue. 

Is that all I'll ever be? A pretty face barely worth loving? Another secret wonder he wouldn't discover until much later.

“You’re not so bad of a guy either,” she reached out, with her free hand and gently played with the fringe that hung over his forehead. “If I wasn’t so damaged, I’d probably be able to appreciate that heart of yours,” she poked his chest playfully and with a tone of self-mockery, sucking another puff of cigarette tar into her lungs. 

“But instead, here I am, giving you cigarettes, beer, and bad memories,” she scoffed. 

Hyun took a step closer to Ji-an, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her. He peered into her face, hoping to read the meaning in her words by seeing her expression more clearly, but there was nothing he could see. Her eyes continued to stare dispassionately at the scenic view, and not for a moment did she meet his searching gaze, nor did she acknowledge his presence at her side. Instead, her brow furrowed, and irritation fizzled in her vacant eyes.

"We shouldn't have met," she said, tossing her cigarette onto the ground and stomping it out under her boots. 

Hyun felt his heart drop.

Ji-an turned on her heels and walked towards her motorcycle.

"W.. wait! Ji-an, where are you going?" He called.

There was no answer except the loud roar of a motorcycle engine starting.

"Ji-an!"

She paused, looking towards Hyun, with more emotion in her eyes than Hyun had ever seen before, "Get out of here. Become something." 

And that was it. 

She rode off, the rumbling of her motorcycle fading the farther she got. And Hyun could only watch, confused, lost, and entirely too alone for a boy his age.

Zen jolted awake, beads of cold sweat running down his back and his heart dropping into his stomach, leaving his chest feeling hollow and unbearably lonely until he heard you.

"Hyun?" you said, coming back into the living room with a glass of water, "Are you okay?"

He looked at you, and the frenzy in his eyes became calm. A deep breath entered his lungs, and it was exhaled smoothly.

And that's when his wondering all made sense. 

Zen realized it then as his hysteria calmed at the mere sight of you. He knew then that perhaps in all possibility, before you came and before he had forgotten what life was like in your absence, he would've considered Ji-an his first love experience. And in some way, maybe she was. Maybe she was his first love, but that thought didn't seem to bother him so much anymore. Because maybe love was more about changing than firsts and lasts. 

(Although, admittedly, he was perfectly enchanted by the idea that you would be his last. You would hold all his ending chapters, and perhaps, that was far more important than keeping all his opening phrases.)

Ji-an encouraged his flaws but neglected his strengths. He knew now that they were bad for each other, beasts ravenously hungry for love and acceptance. In love with their shared self-pity. Wanting each other because of the addictive nature of cigarettes, loving the nicotine clinging to their clothes and mingling in their mouths. Loving the faint taste of strawberries after every kiss that made the bitter taste of tobacco seem pleasant and sweet. But even still, she inspired his drive for freedom.

And you? You came and captivated him.

You nurtured his strengths and loved his flaws, and for that, he loved you, but as his feelings began to grow, he wanted to be better for you. He wanted to change. So maybe, just maybe, it was for the best that you came at this moment in his life. You came at the point in his life when he still had room to grow but was mature enough to treasure you wholeheartedly. Perhaps now was the best time to love you--not to say it was the only time he could love you, nor was it the perfect time, for he knew that if he had met you ten years ago or ten years from now, he'd be ready to love you precisely and honestly--so now as Zen looks at you, finally finding his moment of lost peace, he realizes that all this wondering about "first love" was for not because all that matters is that he loves you.

Zen nods, gently grabbing at your waist and pulling you in. He rests his forehead against your torso, hugging your waist tightly.

 "Never better, honey~"

˚✧₊⁎𝒥𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎⁎⁺˳✧༚

I do not own any characters, all ownership goes to Cheritz. Thanks for reading!

[angelyuji]

skirts and promises

707 x reader (most (if not all) dialouge from day 9 phone call) reader wear a skirt but no gendered pronouns

hope you guys enjoy! i know not many of you follow me for mystic messenger stuff but it's summer so im back on the grind :)) no warnings! maybe a little suggestive so yk.... anyways, i'm a 707 girlie till i die thats literally my man i need him so bad it physically hurts me like omg thats my FREAKING MANNNN.... have fun reading!

you glance at seven sitting next to you on the couch, typing at lightening speed on his laptop. you quietly pull out your phone, pretending to look through the chatrooms before dialing his number on the RFA app.

“hello?” seven laughs next to you and you pout at the phone.

“why are you laughing?” you look over at him suspiciously.

“i noticed you glancing at me while pressing on the phone, so i wondered if you were trying to call me. and you really did! why are you so cute? i even love how predictable you are.” you blush at seven’s words. you jump up and run into the kitchen, giggling to yourself. “hmm? why are you running into the kitchen? i can’t see you now!” seven whines as you press yourself against the fridge and slide down to the floor.

“it feels like we’re actually talking on the phone if we can’t see each other!” you speak into the phone, smiling to yourself.

“what?” you peek your head around the corner and watch as seven tilts his head in confusion. “huh…you’re right…then i want to hide too! where should i go?” seven stands up, phone pressed to his ear. “i want to go into the kitchen too!”

“no, no! then there wouldn’t be any point in me hiding!” you whine, and you watch as seven throws his head back and laughs. he plops back onto the couch, arms spread out on the top of the couch. you bite your lip and watch as he relaxes into the couch.

seven sighs, “…i miss you when you disappear from my sight. i want to be right beside you… always.” a warm silence fills the apartment. you feel your heart beat faster. you turn your head back to face the cabinets across from you.

“i… i feel the same.” you whisper, afraid to disturb the feeling in the air.

seven’s voice quiets as he talks into the phone, “you know, it’s good to laugh. i mean, if we can manage to laugh in this situation, what other miracle can we hope for?” you hum, letting him continue. “i think this is what suits us. that no matter what happens, we can look at each other and laugh.” he stops talking and you wait. “promise me… promise me that from now on, we’ll look at each other, smile, and get through whatever comes.”

“i promise.” you smile.

seven stands up and walks towards the kitchen, stopping at the entry. “and if we get tired in the process… our robot can help us laugh.”

“i want to make you smile too.” you giggle, clutching the phone to your chest.

“then poke your head out!” you peek your head out, seven grabs your legs, and pulls. you scream and he cackles as you lay flat on the floor. he sits on his knees, clutching his sides. you raise yourself up onto your elbows and smile. “why are you smiling? you just looked into my eyes!”

“i don’t know, i guess i just like you a lot.” you lay back down, covering your face as you feel a blush creep back up your face.

seven laughs, pulling you closer. “do you like me that much?” he whispers and holds himself over you. one hand cups your face, “don’t pout, i like you too.” he moves back to his knees with a huff. “god, i like you so much… i want to tease you, i want to watch your cute little face.”

you sit up and hit his arm, feeling your face burn. “you’re so annoying.”

seven laughs harder, “i’m so happy we can manage to play in such a small apartment.”

“interesting you say that when you didn’t even want to be near me earlier.” you huff and cross your arms.

seven grabs your hand, “ahh, just forget about that now. what’s important is the present, and the future we’ll create… together.” you smile, crossing your fingers together. “oh, but there’s a problem right now.”

“huh? what problem?” your eyes widen in panic.

“you do realize that you’re pretty defenseless, right?” seven lets go of your hand to cup your face once more. “i’m not just a guy that types away at a laptop. i’m really, really trying hard to hold back right now.” his thumb brushes against your lips and you hold your breath. you watch as his eyes drift to your lips. his face gets close and you close your eyes. you feel as if time stops, but he pauses, you can feel his breath on your lips. all of a sudden, you hear a loud laugh, you open your eyes and seven’s on the floor once more.

you move closer to him and whack his arm, “you are such a jerk, seven.”

you flop back onto the floor, annoyance turning to laughter. seven sits back onto the floor, crisscross. “ahh, don’t worry, (y/n). i’m super good at holding it in. speaking of, can’t you- can’t you pull down your skirt a little. i think- i think it kind of crawled up when you were laughing.” his eyes drift to your thighs. you look down and notice that your skirt had ridden up, exposing more of your thighs.

you smile, innocently, “what if i don’t want to? what if i don’t want to listen to you?” you use a finger to slowly pull your skirt up higher. seven’s hands clasp yours, stopping you from going further.

his eyes were wide and you tilt your head, noticing how wide his pupils are. “you don’t want to? please… i feel like my nose is gonna start bleeding if you keep going like this… i’m sure of it.” you pull one side of your sweater down below your shoulder, smiling slightly. seven’s breathing gets heavy. “god… i don’t think- i can’t-” seven shoots up, surprising you. “i need to go work out a bit. i just want to work out of my body too, not just my brain all the time.” you get up with him. “maybe- maybe a cold shower too…” he mumbles, brushing his hand through his hair.

“wait- seven-” you grab his arm.

he looks back at you with a weird expression. “and uh… please be careful of your skirt. i’m sorry.” you bite your lip and pout.

“fine… i guess i should hang up then and help you.” you grab your phone and seven grabs your hand, pulling you closer to him.

“huh? help me? wait- why- why are you trying to hang up? not yet!”

[password-door-lock]

Mystictober Day 2-- Domestic life/Sweater weather

You visit Saeran in the garden (708 words)

You take care in balancing the warm mug in your hands as you open the back door and make your way out to the garden. The ends of your sweater sleeves serve as little potholders, protecting your skin from the hot ceramic as you walk over to Saeran. He’s clad in his gardening clothes, including a pair of moss-green overalls and a heavy gray sweater that he got second-hand. 

“What are you doing, baby?” You ask, settling yourself into the dry grass beside him. Your light-colored pants may suffer for it, but proximity to your husband far outweighs the cleanliness of your clothes on your list of priorities. 

Despite the weather, Saeran has torn up an entire flower bed, removing the foliage from the annuals that grew there over the summer. “I’m planting tulips,” he explains, holding up a small white orb. “The bulbs need to stay in the soil over the winter to bloom in the spring.”

You try to imagine the flowerbed overtaken by tulips. It’s a nice thought, though it occurs to you, from your limited knowledge, that different colored tulips have different meanings in the language of flowers. “What color are they going to be?” Knowing Saeran, he’s made considerations for floriography while planning his garden. 

“I’m not sure,” he admits, “I asked Mrs. Park at the garden store to give me a variety. That way, it’s like the tulips are talking to us  rather than me planning what they’re going to say.” While you’re processing the weight and implications of this very profound gardening philosophy, your husband takes notice of the mug in your hands. “Did you bring me something, my angel?”

“Hot apple cider,” you report, “I thought you’d like something warm, since it’s so chilly out here.”

Saeran strips off his gardening gloves and carefully takes the mug by the handle. “Yes, thank you, my love. You know me so well.”

You lean over to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Of course. I can’t wait to see what the tulips look like in the spring.” 

Saeran takes a sip of his drink. “It’s very good,” he assures you, before redirecting his attention back to the garden. “If they don’t get cold enough, they won’t be able to put in their roots. I hope I gave them enough time— but if not, we can plant something else here in the spring.”

“I’m sure it’ll be beautiful either way,” you assure him, “Plus, Mrs. Park helped you, and her garden is almost as good-looking as yours.  I know it’ll turn out well, since the two of you put your heads together.”

“That’s true,” Saeran agrees. Ever since the pair of you moved into your marital home, he’s been friendly with Mrs. Park, the owner of a nearby garden store. You and Saeran have gone over to dinner with Mrs. Park and her husband a few times, and once, you even hosted them at your place.

“Oh, honey, before I forget,” you cut through the moment to address your husband, “Did you have anything to put in the laundry? I’m going to do a load before I start on dinner.” You’ve spent much of the day poring over cookbooks in search of an appropriately festive fall recipe, and you plan to work on one while the clothes are in the machine. 

Saeran considers your question, cheeks heating as he admits, “My brown sweater got a bit muddy yesterday afternoon.” 

“That’s okay,” you assure him. “I’ll throw it in.” You don’t mind washing the mud out of Saeran’s gardening clothes when it’s your turn to do the laundry. After all, he’d do the same for you. “Okay, love— I’d better start dinner. I’ll come out and get you at the fifteen-minute mark.”

You know Saeran dislikes being abruptly dragged away from his hobbies almost as much as he dislikes missing the chance to artfully set the table. “Oh, okay.” He gives your hand a little squeeze, leaving a smudge of the dirt that always manages to collect when he works in the garden, regardless of his gloves. “Please do.” 

You catch his lips in a sweet kiss before rising and returning to the house, sending a flirtatious smile over your shoulder as you go.

[sky-writes-thingss]

Hey folks, don't sell bookbinded fanfiction. It's really harmfull and writes are starting to take down their fanfiction. It's cool if you want physical versions of your favorite fic but don't go around selling them. DIY them!

[reifromrfa]

Mystictober 2024: Favorite Character/Hourglass

Hello, it's been a while (ᵕ—ᴗ—) I really missed the mysme universe and, though life is still busy, I'm trying to make time to do things I love; one of which is writing, even if I only write one fanfic per year lol XD

Sooo without further ado, here's a short fic based on this list by @sensetenou :)

P.S. I think tumblr broke my post, I can't add the "Keep reading" link after editing a typo ;A;

Vanderwood

He steps out of the cabin and takes a long, deep breath

It feels suffocating inside

With that damn 707, the girl, and their blue-haired friend...

Vanderwood ties his hair into a low ponytail and reaches for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket

Taking a stick, he lifts it to his lips

He pats his pockets for his lighter and mutters a curse under his breath when he realizes he left it inside

With a frustrated groan, he turns around—

—and he freezes

Standing before him, a nervous smile on her face, was the girl

MC

"You left this inside, I thought you could use it," she says, holding out the lighter to him

His throat feels tight and Vanderwood can hear the loud drumming of his heart against his ribcage

It takes every bit of his strength not to reach out and pull her into his arms

MC tucks her hair behind her ear, outstretched hand wavering as Vanderwood stood there staring at her

He clenches one hand into a fist

Then slowly relaxes his hand, his shoulders drooping as he resigns himself to the fact that she'll never recognize him

And it was all his fault

"Thanks," he mutters, cigarette still between his lips

He holds out his hand, expecting her to drop the lighter onto his palm

But the girl looks up at him and then lights the device, holding it close to his lips

Instinctively, he leans closer before he could even stop himself

As MC focuses on lighting the end of his cigarette, he can't help but stare into her eyes

At the reflection of the flames in them

"Maybe it's the fire in your eyes that I love, baby."

"Because it matches yours?"

"Hahaha MC, baby, I don't think my fire even comes close to yours."

"It's because got this fire from you, baby. You're the one who inspires me to be bold and brave."

MC takes a step back, smiling at him

Vanderwood takes a step back too, looking away from her

Blinking away the memories he so desperately wants to cling to

"Thanks," he mumbles, taking a long drag

Allowing the poison to fill his lungs before blowing a puff of white smoke away from where MC stands

"Umm...so..."

He glances at her

She has her hands clasped together in front of her

Then she bows to him, which startles Vanderwood

"Thank you so much for helping us save him."

Him

That V guy

Her current route

"Hey, don't worry about it," he replies, rubbing the back of his neck

He doesn't want to hear this

He doesn't want to listen to her talk about how much she loves that man

Because she once felt that way about him, too

MC straightens and grins at him

"I mean it. You saved his life and I hope I can repay your kindness one day."

Vanderwood waves a gloved hand dismissively, pulling the cigarette from his lips

"If I didn't do it," he forces himself to say. "707 would be distracted and he'd stop doing his damn job and we'd both be fucked."

She gives him a look that says she doesn't buy a single word out of his mouth

"Even so, without you that elixir might've brought more harm to him...Whatever your reasons, I'm really grateful to have you here, Vanderwood."

A mixture of feelings erupt from his chest, despite all his efforts to smother them

The bloom of hope, the scathing pang of hurt

Despair in the knowledge that she'll never recognize him ever again

Vanderwood looks to the door that leads back into the cabin, unable to meet her eyes

"You really care for him, huh?" he asks, careful to keep his feelings hidden

"Do you love me, MC?"

"Yes," she answers, her voice full of emotion

Vanderwood's brows furrow as he puts the cigarette back to his lips, turning his back to MC and choosing to gaze up at the stars instead

Here, out in the middle of fucking nowhere

Away from the city lights

They can actually see the starry night sky

Out here, away from the hustle and bustle of the city, everything is quiet

He can hear the grass and leaves rustling from the gentle night breeze

Hear the crickets and owls

Hear his own heart breaking all over again

MC moves to stand beside him but Vanderwood doesn't dare look at her

He keeps his gaze up at the stars, remembering his promise to her

"It's beautiful out here, right?"

"It's only beautiful because you're here, baby."

I don't have the right to call her that anymore

He lost that right when he gave her up

But it wasn't because he didn't love her anymore

No...

He doesn't think it's possible to love anyone else but her

His MC

But when MC only chose his route, over and over again

When he and MC found a way to be together —breaking through the codes and the walls

Breaking the impossible

...the system found a way to keep them apart

"NO!" Vanderwood yells, holding MC in his arms

She's not moving, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow

His big hand envelops her smaller one as he cradles her to his chest, tears rolling down his cheek as the red stain on her clothes start spreading

"Baby, stay with me, baby. Please. I'll get you to a hospital, MC. Please, I'm sorry. I'm sorry! Don't leave me, MC. Please. Please!"

He tries to lift her into his arms, but he hears the cock of guns and he protectively holds her close, glaring at the men in suits surrounding them

Each one with guns trained at the couple

A lone woman in a suit approaches them, her face expressionless as she gazes at Vanderwood and MC

"This could have been avoided, had she not foolishly jumped in front of you."

"You fucking bitch!"

Still, the woman remains impassive

She steps forward, closer to where Vanderwood and MC are

"You can save her, you know."

Vanderwood glares at the woman, but she continues

"I offer you the choice, ██████ ███," she says, lifting her hand and opening her palm

Over it, a hologram of an hourglass appears and becomes solid

"Return to the game and reset the clock. Go back to the beginning and undo what has been done. Or..."

The woman's eyes go to MC's pale form

"...live with your reality."

Return to the game...rewind time?

"If I do that...reset the game," he begins through gritted teeth. "She'll live? She'll be okay? She'll...be happy?"

"Yes. But she'll forget about you. And, to prevent a repeat of your insolence, we're removing your route from the game. We'll take your name, ██████ ███, your identity, your story...she will be happier this way, believe me."

Vanderwood's head snaps up, his eyes widening

Then...that means...

No.

"What the fuck?! If I fucking agree to this, then—"

Then I'll lose her forever

"You're losing her now, ██████."

He tenses and looks back at his girl, whose eyes flutter open slightly

She shakes her head, those beautiful eyes filled with tears

"No...don't."

"Shhh, it's okay, MC. It's gonna be okay," he whispers, his heart twisting painfully in his chest

The answer is obvious...so fucking obvious

He's the one who broke the game, who defied all the rules and brought this shit onto her life

He's the one who put her in danger in the first place...

"Mi███n...please," she pleads in a soft voice, panicking at what she sees in his eyes

"I'd rather die, having lived my life with you than live the rest of my life without you."

Vanderwood chuckles sadly, leaning down and pressing his lips to hers

He presses his forehead to hers, holding her close to him

One last time

"MC, baby..."

"I love you so damn much."

"There's not a single day of my life where I won't be loving you, MC."

"You're my North Star...you'll always be my home, you'll always be the light in my life."

"That's why I have to say goodbye."

"I can't...I can't live in a world without you, baby."

"I'm sorry...this is so fucking selfish of me, but I'm just a character in a game."

"You are REAL."

She sobs and winces, reaching out and cupping his cheek despite the pain

"You're real to me, ██nj█n."

He smiles and kisses her again

"Even if your mind doesn't remember me," he whispers between kisses

"I hope your heart won't forget me."

The woman, watching the two lovers, turns the hourglass

Around them, everything slowly fades into dust

Vanderwood smiles at MC, tears streaming down his cheeks as he memorizes all the details about her

MC holds onto him with the last of her strength, panic coursing through her body

She doesn't want this, she doesn't want to leave him

"Hey, lady," Vanderwood tells the woman without looking at her

"I have one favor to ask. Please."

"Yeah," Vanderwood replies to MC, keeping his gaze trained at the brightest star in the sky

"It's beautiful."

"Vanderwood..."

He turns to look at her and sees a confused expression on her face

"Have we...?"

The door suddenly bursts open and Seven comes out, a smile on his face

"He's awake!" he informs MC

A smile spreads across her face and she bows again to Vanderwood

"Thank you, Vanderwood!"

She runs inside and he watches her go, swallowing the lump in his throat

Guess he'll have to get used to this

Watching her from afar as she runs into the arms of another man

A man that will never be him, ever again

"After all this time?"

Vanderwood rolls his eyes, blinking away the hurt and pain and arranging his expression into one of annoyance

He turns his back on Seven, putting his cigarette back between his lips

"Aww c'mon. This is the perfect time to re-enact that scene from Garry Potted!"

"Go back to fucking work, Seven."

Seven stares at Vanderwood's wide back, a sad smile on his face

Even though Vanderwood isn't aware of it, Seven actually knows who he is

What he's been through

After all...Vanderwood isn't the only one working on breaking the game's code

Working on ending the reset system, once and for all

Seven wishes he could do more to comfort his friend

But instead, he goes back inside and sits on the couch

Cracking his fingers, Seven focuses his gaze on his laptop screen

"Hang in there, Minjun. We'll get out of this one."

"Promise."

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

If you're reading this, thank you so much for reading my fic ;w; I hope you enjoyed it <3

P.S. Minjun is a name I made for Vanderwood, but it's not official or anything! Still hoping and praying Cheritz makes a route for him ;w;

Check out my other Mysme writings here!

Mango Shake/Ko-fi is always very much appreciated (ᵔᴥᵔ)

[xelasrecords]

Secrets and Sacrifices

Han Jumin x Reader

NSFW

Jumin and you make sacrifices for the RFA. You don't know how much more you can take, but Jumin does not plan to let you out of his sight.

Secret Ending AU where the secrets drag on and relationships are more complicated.

TW: depression, self-harm, controlling behaviour

Words: 2.8k

Masterlist Read on AO3

Your friends are laughing around you. The restaurant lighting has dimmed, and the lambent glow from the candle on the table illuminates their happy faces. All of you are tucked into a padded leather sofa in the corner, the live music playing behind you.

You echo their laughter. It's the appropriate response.

Seven is sharing an outrageous tale, and Yoosung is his enraptured audience, constantly nodding and asking follow-up questions. Zen chides him for believing everything Seven says but still laughs along. Beside you, Jaehee reaches over you and sets the empty plates aside in anticipation of Seven's dramatic gestures.

Jumin is impervious to the racket. He swirls his wine and watches the advertising screen outside the window, the billboard flashing bright in the evening. His grey eyes are glazed, unfocused. He's missing V, you're sure. That's all he does, aside from worrying about you. Waits for V to contact him.

Languidly, you lay your head against the cushion. This should be a pleasant dinner, but there's a damper placed on your emotion valve. You've lost the means to conjure the excitement you once felt. The knowledge of missing them is not the same as feeling it.

You look down at the corduroy skirt that has ridden up to your waist, exposing more than half of your thighs. You dig your nails into them. Five seconds and release. Little scythes are imprinted on your skin. There, a feeling. You swipe your fingers through the indents with dull fascination.

Today is one of the rare days when you are cleared to venture outside without compromising security, but showing up here feels like a farce. You're playing puppet to prove that you're fine before being corralled back to Rika’s sterile shoebox apartment.

Jumin and Seven's dutiful little puppet, that's what you are.

When you glance up, you can feel the weight of Jumin's attention on you, intense gaze shifting from your lap to your neutral face.

You don't feel guilty. He will find out anyway.

You drag your skirt down and straighten your posture, the band sitting around your hips again.

"Is everything well?" Across from you, Jumin's smooth baritone voice rises above the peals of laughter and the increasingly loud music.

The chatter halts as your friends turn to you with a concerned expression.

You crack a smile. "I'm all right. Just tired." Jaehee squeezes your hand, and you pat hers with reassurance. The friendship you foster with this little group is built on thin ice, and long cracks have been crawling across the surface. "Let's go back, I have work tomorrow. So do all of you."

Seven's shrewd eyes flash at you before he grins widely at the others. "Except for Yoosung!" He pokes Yoosung's side, which earns him a light punch on his shoulder.

"A wise decision," Jumin says. "Everyone should get some rest."

"Easy for you to say." Zen glares at him. "I don't think I can sleep a wink tonight. My skin is ruined from all my lost beauty sleep." He sighs and turns to Seven. "Is there no progress on V's secret files?"

Seven pouts and shakes his head. "I'm still trying to break through the encryption walls, but Jumin can give me Elly to boost my motivation!"

Zen instantly sneezes and curses while Jaehee hurries to pass him a napkin.

An agent with a lifetime of diversion training. You hold back a scoff.

Jumin, Seven, and you are only shrouding yourselves with more secrets because you are determined to reach the same goal: Don't let harm come to the RFA. Don't share any information unless it's crucial. Not even Jaehee. Not yet. Let them live in the almost idyllic bubble as long as they can.

For a split second, Jumin seems as if he's about to scold Seven for the deliberate mispronunciation of his cat's name, but he shakes his head and calls for the bill instead.

Jumin has changed. You wonder how much he has to pay in unravelling V's secrets. If selling his peace is worth the members' peace. But you know what answer he would give. It has never been a matter of choosing for him. He will always protect the RFA.

He will always protect you.

Along with the others, you file out of the restaurant through its gilded swinging doors. Jumin immediately arranges their transport home and reminds them to inform their arrival in the chatroom. You pretend not to see Seven exchanging a calculating look with Jumin, his mask briefly slipping. You wait for your turn, but it never comes.

You have anticipated that, though.

Jumin places his hand on your lower back, his dark hair in slight disarray from the wind. You shiver. His touch still has the power to hold you together just as it has the strength to pull you apart. "Driver Kim is already on his way. You won't have to wait for long."

You nod and stare out the parking lot. Surveillance disguised as an act of chivalry. Since Seven stopped trusting V's contingency plans and revealed your address to the members, he and Jumin have worked together to keep you safe as you help them clean up the mess V left behind.

A familiar black car pulls up before you, and Jumin holds the backseat door open. You climb in, greeting Driver Kim before giving him your address. Jumin enters after and sits so close beside you that his trousers brush against your bare leg.

You press your thigh against him a little more.

Jumin gently caresses your knee, but there's a frown on his face. "Your address is already saved in my car navigation. Did you forget that?"

You have honestly forgotten. Thoughts slip around you these days. Try as you may to capture them, it's as if you have to squint through a lattice window to make out the memory fragments and piece them together. You get away with it most of the time, the fact that you struggle to pay attention.

But Jumin always pays too close attention to you.

"I remember now." You shrug.

Jumin isn't inclined to drop the matter. "I have picked you up more than once. If there's any problem with your memories, you should get it checked out. I will arrange a doctor's appointment for you."

"You're blowing things out of proportion."

The car starts to move. Driver Kim has polished his pretence of not hearing your conversation. He taps the radio screen, and a soft murmur floats through the small space.

Jumin's hand on your knee tightens into a grip, but not firm enough to hurt. "You have been forgetting a lot of things."

"Not when they're important," you say. "I won't compromise our mission, so lay off me. I can forget things. I'm human." You huff out a tired sigh. "Don't you have more things to worry about?"

His voice is constricted. "Do not presume other matters are more important than you."

"V?"

He draws his hand into his lap. "Both of you are of equal importance."

You stare out the window, yellow street lamps and glass towers sweeping past you. You're going back to a place that makes you want to scratch your skin loose. Your freedom is restricted to the apartment and wherever an RFA member accompanies you.

"I've watched the romantic drama you recommended," Jumin says after a few moments. "You're right, I did like it. It's curious how the man is always there to catch the woman when she falls. The distance and his human speed should've made it impossible."

At another time, you would have smiled at his endearing fascination and proclivity to pick apart a mystery until he understood it inside out. Now you glance at him without emotion. "Dramas operate by their own logic."

Jumin tries for a smile. "Nevertheless, it was sufficient entertainment to unwind after work. I must thank you for that."

"I'm glad it helped."

He shifts his body towards you. "How would you feel if I attempted to catch you when you fell?"

You purse your lips. "I won't fall around you."

"But if you do?"

You try to ponder over it, but it's like trying to break through rough currents that threaten to swallow you. The effort is exhausting. "You might not be fast enough," you say. "You're not armed with magical drama abilities."

"Then being there with you at all times would solve it." There's a hint of finality in Jumin's tone.

Of course.

You rest your head against the window, the glass cold against your temple. "That sounds impractical."

"It is better than watching the people I love lose themselves because they're too stubborn to ask for help."

Your lips tug up in the tiniest smirk. "Interesting. Han Jumin feels more than me. I never thought this day would come."

You glimpse at him, but he doesn't seem offended. How disappointing. You're right at the centre where his emotions are concentrated. You thought that would have included his anger.

"I would say it's concerning," Jumin says. "I know how that emptiness feels. If what you're experiencing is worse than that—"

"You'll force me to get treatment?"

His hands curl into a fist in his lap. "I'm not fond of coercion, but if you pose a danger to yourself, then I will do what I must."

You can't keep the irritation out of your voice. "Of course. Thank you for caring."

"I always care." Jumin's fingers hover near your cheek, and you think he's going to touch you, and you wait for him to—but he drops it to his side.

"And look how it ruins you."

Jumin dips his chin sharply. The shadow in the car obscures his expression, but you can make out the lines of exhaustion in the corner of his eyes. There is only so much he can put up with before it eats at him, always bracing for tragedy to befall everyone around him.

You're not supposed to be on the list of the people he wants to protect.

"Loving you doesn't ruin me. It's the best emotion I have ever felt." He runs his hand up your arm and pauses at the slope of your shoulder. "So let me care for you. Don't go. Don't go as far as V has."

You can't wrap your head around the driving force behind Jumin's obsession for your survival. You don't even care as much. It probably has something to do with how you can see right through him. He's attached to the validation you can offer him. You make him feel like a person. You're the only one who sees him as he is, now he can't let you go.

"V is your closest friend. He'll come back to you eventually."

"He won't," Jumin states flatly. "Rika is all he sees, and his range of vision has pathetically narrowed. You needn't bother with consolations. I know where my place is on his priority list."

Pressure burgeons within you like a fist thrusting into your ribcage and twisting your lungs. You hold on to the sensation, thankful to still be able to feel certain pains for Jumin. You wind your hand around his tie and press your lips somberly against his. He tastes of matured grapes and sweet memories long gone.

You have loved him until it ruined you too.

Jumin hooks his arm around your waist and pushes you against the car door, his other hand moving around the back of your head to soften the blow. His fingers trace down your ear and jaw before tilting your chin up and deepening the kiss.

His hand slides up the back of your thigh and toys with the lining of your panties. You hitch your leg up, allowing him to slide between you as he presses himself harder against you, his breathing harsh against your parted lips.

You can feel his need for you between your legs and you wish to satiate him, but it's as though your limbs and nerves are molten lead. You can burn him up with a single touch and you do it without feeling anything.

You want him, but the desire is cerebral.

Jumin pauses and pulls away when he notices your lack of fervour. He opens his mouth to apologise, but you grab his arms, feeling the lean muscles beneath the suit, and shake your head.

Not your fault.

He searches your face, then nods. This has happened before.

You don't know how you reached this point. You keep losing things that you can't afford to lose and you're tired of it. Your freedom, your fundamental need for Jumin. You don't know how to protect your senses from atrophying.

He smooths down your crumpled hair and blouse, murmuring, "I had expressed my wish not to be consoled, yet you still went against me."

"This is the only time I don't have to obey you."

Jumin stills. "I am not trying to restrict you."

"So if I ask you to stop monitoring my schedule and chaperoning me, either by yourself or someone you personally approve of, would you?"

He brushes your swollen lips with his thumb. "Can you promise me you won't get yourself killed if I decrease the security?"

"I promise." You straighten his tie to align it with the buttons and trail your fingers up his chest.

Jumin seems to consider it before shaking his head and chuckling. "You're a good liar."

You grip the lapels of his suit. "It's not up to me if the hacker decides to attack me."

"But you won't put up a fight either."

You let your hands fall and avert your gaze to the blur of passing cars behind him.

Jumin sighs. "It's only until we dissolve Mint Eye and you are safe from the threats that brought you here. Perhaps you would be happier and less inclined to throw self-preservation to the wind."

You clench your jaw and dig your nails into your thighs. Your life is getting smaller and smaller each day. There will always be another condition from him as your condition gets worse. Jumin will not stop. As long as the fight against Mint Eye goes on, you will always be under his extreme surveillance.

Jumin means well, you know it. You wouldn't have survived this long if he and Seven didn't force you to.

You carve your nails in with all your strength, clawing until they break your skin, but there's no blood. It's always harder when you mean to do it.

You don't want to be fixed all the time. Sometimes you want to shatter into pieces. Sometimes you feel safer when you're small.

"I can't breathe, Jumin," you say, desperation seeping into your voice.

He flicks his eyes down and wraps his hand around your wrists in an instant. "Stop doing that. Stop hurting yourself."

"This?" You laugh. "It's nothing more than you and Seven have been doing to me. I've always been willing to help you two with your plans, however immoral they are. I'd do them myself even without you. But I never gave you permission to track me like a prisoner."

His gaze turns hard. "You wouldn't let me if I asked."

"I'm the unhappiest I've ever been and you don't even care." You try to pull your hands away, but he won't budge. "You don't want me to be happy."

 "I deeply apologise. I never mean to cause you pain." His face contorts with guilt. "Please hold on a little longer. It will be over soon. V will provide us with an explanation, and things will return to how they were."

"You're naïve if you think it's that easy. This is not your drama with a fairytale happy ending."

"If I don't harbour hope in everyone's stead, what chance do we have in surviving?" Jumin says, and lets out a ragged breath. "We will get through this catastrophe. You can depend on me if you can't find the strength to go on. Just—stay with me. Do not leave."

You think you should cry. You can feel an emotion bubbling, blistering but never quite reaching its boiling point. It's frustrating. Breaking down under pressure is one of the most human things to do, yet the most you can muster is observational agitation.

Love changes things. He loves you and you're paying the price for it. 

You look at him with deadened eyes. "You have never made leaving possible, Jumin."

"Good," Jumin says, his voice terse. He doesn't let go of your wrists.

You sink into your seat, deep into the corner where the lights do not reach. There is a kind of loneliness that has grown into a corporeal shadow inside the cavity of you.

You yearn to make its existence known to someone.

You have no one to tell.

-

Footnotes:

I couldn't flesh these out due to fic length, but I want to get them out there anyway: 1) Reader isn't in therapy because Jumin and Seven aren't well-versed in mental health and Jumin thinks he's enough to fix her for now. She just doesn't care. 2) Jaehee is excluded from the secret subgroup because reader takes over her role in task execution and more.

I... didn't mean to write a dark Jumin or include canon plot elements. I feel like my fics lately are a "how dark can I make this" challenge. The initial idea was just Jumin being there for a lonely reader and it'd be wholesome and comforting, but it got worse through each draft. It had been satisfying to write.

I'd hoped my first fic with the big cast would be one where everyone's personalities are prominent, but apparently, I had to write it from a depressed reader's POV so everything is warped and muted instead. Maybe next time.

There's a paragraph that I reworked from my now inactive IG writing account c: I guess it's not plagiarism if you're copying yourself?

I like it when my MCs are a lil manipulative xoxo

The header concept is Jumin's obsessive surveillance, shown through the clear box tracking his eyes while the rest is blurred, and the toxic intimacy of how Jumin is the one who yearns more but they're separated by a thin yet impenetrable barrier. I was so happy that this clip fits my vision, with an Asian man at that! It's hard to find good free stock footage of Asians. And tap the GIF for better quality.

Youtube | Goodreads | Letterboxd | Pinterest

[issacballsac]

Wishes to Unknown

Unknown/Saeran Choi

Male Reader

Joining the RFA had been nothing short of a fever dream to you

To anyone with an ounce of sanity even

So the <<Hi!>> of the very person responsible for your forceful recruitment into this organisation wasn’t exactly welcomed

<<Long time no see. We chatted before, remember?>>

With reluctant annoyance you did the very thing that got you in trouble at the start, responding.

<<Yep, what exactly are you messaging me for now?>>

<<Thanks to your help back then, I could preform my task without trouble.>>

<<Glad I could help🫂; you wouldn’t happen to be telling me what said task is/was?>>

<<Anyways. I told you I’m studying abroad, remember? But if you don’t it can’t be helped.>>

<<Yes I understand but why should I care about any of this?>>

<<Well—um…I’ll be back in Korea today. Remember I told you I’ll make it up to you if you help me? :)>>

<<So…>>

<<I’m not sure if I’m liking where this is going..>>

<<Do you have time today? Why don’t you join me to see the sky tonight? I have what I like to call a haven of sorts where I come whenever I visit Korea.>>

<<I’d love to go there with you.>>

<<Honestly, today is my birthday and you’re the only one who could properly congratulate it for me.>>

<<I promise you won’t regret it.>>

<<You have such a way with words—I almost forgot what happened last time you invited me to a mysterious location.>>

<<Look—>>

<<If you come to me. I’ll make it a VERY pleasant day for you. I even made you a crown with red roses. :)>>

<<Still not convinced dude. Bc if I get added to another group chat after this I will delete this app.>>

<<Okay ok; I’ll bring ice cream, Yk with summer it’s getting hot. We can also watch popular films? I’ll get everything ready I promise.>>

<<Youll join me, won’t you? I’ll be waiting for you.>>

UNKNOWN has left the chatroom

Every instinct in your body spiritual and physical told you not to go to the location sent to your phone.

BUT

Curiosity couldn’t kill the cat twice, could it?

Simply walking out of the apartment with your current attire as the event wasn’t that special to you; you began your search of the park.

The park was sparsely populated from the locator position the greatly mysterious UNKNOWN had graciously granted you

None matched the original picture he sent all those weeks ago

“Brown hair, green eyes. Brown hair, green eyes. Brown hair and green eyes.” You repeated as if it were a mantra looking over the same groups of people.

“Looking for me, my prince?”

“Indeed I was my dearest catfish. That’s obviously not you in the pictures.”

Almost unbothered by the comment he maintained eye contact, “Yes, well my identity is somewhat of a secret. Please try to understand, I can’t simply go throwing my image everywhere.”

“Sure sure. Anyways, happy birthday…Unknown? Got a name I can call you?”

“I’m a bit reluctant to say—no, it should be fine. Call me..”

“Shall I call you my stalking prince?”

His eyebrows furrowed towards his eyes, “If you’ll let me finish.”

“Yeah yeah, go ahead.”

Firmly clearing his throat, “It’s Saeran. But don’t go yelling it everywhere and definitely not to the RFA.”

“I won’t, I promise. But I really like your name, it’s nice to actually learn something about you.”

“Well you already know a lot. I’m not the guy from the photo, I hacked your phone on certain occasions, I like ice cream, and now you even know my name.”

“Yes we could almost get married with how much I know about you.”

“Though you are beautiful if you don’t mind the compliment. You’re not such a weirdo either, even if you did trick me into joining a strange charity.”

“Yes you make me sound SO amazing and dreamy.”

Taking a bite from out of his ice cream cone, “Yes, because you are, and I am totally not speaking out of my ass when I say this.”

“Enough of the chatting, I was promise a nice a pleasant day, so, show the way.”

Snickering slightly, Saeran stopped himself from reaching for you hand and opted for a follow-the-leader route.

On a secluded hill, a blanket lay bare with a singular unbranded laptop at the centre. A brown woven basket sat not far from the main attraction.

“Birthday picnic?”

He sat down calmly on the blanket. Lightly yet rapidly clicking on the keys of the keyboard.

The soft white light beamed against his already pale face, “Any suggestions for a movie?”

“I thought we were starting gazing.”

He quirked a brow at your remark.

“The constellation I want to see isn’t out yet. In the meantime won’t you accompany me?”

A small rotation of movies was shown before you both ultimately decided to just wait.

“Sae look! Isn’t that the constellation you wanted to see?”

His eyes snapped up as the stars aligned perfectly. A small smile was rapidly tugging at his face. “Sae?”

“A—sorry, it was just shorter.”

“I don’t mind it.”

Readjusting yourself on the mat, you took another spoonful of the mass amount of mint ice cream your newly acquired partner brought.

“Hey, so do you like—wish on the constellations? Or is it just the individual stars?”

“I’d call you stupid, but, I don’t know myself.”

“Here. I’ll wish you another happy birthday for each one of the stars in the constellation.”

“That’s a lot of stars you know?”

“I have all night and tomorrow morning.”

An actual laugh escaped from him, a laugh that had been held in for years it seemed. A pure and genuine expression.

“You know…there are better ice cream flavours than mint.”

“Don’t ruin my birthday. Please.”

This was based off of his 2019 birthday event

@viernane

[messenger-of-babel]

Reborn

Summary: Jason did what he swore he'd never curse upon anyone. It just so happened to be you he cursed in the process.

Word Count: 2.3K

Notes: Character death, greivous injury, language. I was actually so happy writing this one, I was thinking I was going to struggle with the prompt but it actually came to me with a lot less struggle than I was expecting. I'm a big Jason girlie so maybe this had a trace of self indulgence in there.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Hurry the fuck up!" Jason yells at Tim, hands pressed on the centre of your chest, blood trickling through his fingers. He hates the way the warm liquid seeps into the fabric of his gloves, sticky and wet.

"I'm trying the best I can," Tim grits back out, relaying something through their coms line while he runs to your side, dropping to his knees beside your body in the car wreckage. "Holy…" he breathes out, eyes flicking over your form in concern. Your eyes are hazy and your face is ashy, paling from the blood loss.

"Jason, I don't think we-" he says, picking up one of your limp hands in his own, looking to his adoptive brother with pity.

"Shut up and do it." Jason grits back.

He wasn't going to lose you. Not like this. Not before him, not because of him.

Drop you to work, that's all he was going to do. That's all he was going to do. It was late at night, and he had patrol anyways. You were going in for a trial shift that night at the security company, something that could land you an executive manager role and get you out of that shitty job waiting tables. Something that could get both of you into a better apartment, more independent, the start of your life together. When you first started dating he was more than happy to throw Bruce's money around, the billionaire had more than he needed anyways, he wasn't going to miss it. Yet you had begun refusing after the first month, saying you wanted to be independent, and he fell in love right there.

And is this where it got you?

No. That was still all him. He had picked you up in a simple car since he was staking out some gang causing issues around West End and needed to go on stakeout. No reinforced glass, no secret bat gadget hidden in the glove compartment, just some tinted windows. So, who even saw you getting into his car? Well, what was supposed to be just dropping you at work turned into a car chase while you held onto anything you could, screaming in terror. It wasn't often that Jason would be the one getting chased, and under any other circumstances he would have thrown the car into gear and flipped the tables on them.

But you were in the car.

So, he threw it into reverse and ran as fast as he could. It had all been for vain, a burst tire and shattered windshield sent the car spinning out to a side street, flipping as it hit the curb. The screech of metal was deafening to his ears, the crunch of glass ringing out around him as the world flipped one… two…three…times.

His lungs burnt as he struggled to escape from the seatbelt, head throbbing from the collision on the dash before he looked over to you. His heart stopped in his chest, unable to even respond to the calls of Red Robin over his com link, who he had contacted the moment a gun had been fired at the two of you. "Sweetheart?" his voice cracked slightly, unable to go louder over the ball of fear in his throat. You didn’t respond as he clambered from his seat, arms coming around your back to support you and drag you from the car. he hated the way the image of you, splayed over the glass covered dash, had burnt into the deepest part of his mind. He had dragged you to the shelter of the car, blood boiling in his veins.

Anyone who had come to follow up was laid across the floor in seconds, Jason standing in front of your body like a guard dog. He blocked as much of your features as he could, taking out each gang member that came to inspect the crash with frightening efficiency. By the time Red Robin had arrived on the scene, Jason was already cradling your body in the shadow of the car, desperately trying to stop the bleeding from the bullet wound in your sternum. The bullet wound that he might as well have put there himself.

This was his fault.

"This isn't your fault, Hood." Tim says, laying his other hand on Jason's shoulder, muscled tensed and ready to snap. "None of us could have predicted-"

"Shut up and help," he hissed, fighting to stop himself from crying behind his mask. He hadn't felt this terrified since he was a kid, back in that warehouse. He was stronger than that now. Strong enough that surely, he could help you.

Jason wasn’t oblivious to the pained and pitiful look cast his way. "Hood, they're already gone." he whispers softly, hands coming down to gently cover his still compressed on your chest. Jason shakes his head. "No." he chokes out. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no."

"Yes." Tim says firmly. "I've…I've got the car. I'll bring it round before the GCPD shows. We can handle this. We can take them back to the cave, clean them up like they deserve-"

"I said No." Jason snaps, blood rushing in his ears. He knew you were gone. He could tell from the way your blood went tacky on your chest, the stream trickling into a standstill. The way your face was devoid of colour, making you look shades lighter than he knew you were. Your hands were limp, head tilted. What was the worst was the way your eyes stared up into him, glassy and fogged, as if cracking open his soul.

Why did you kill me?

Why me?

Why didn't you save me?

He knew you wanted to live, god, he knew you loved life. Loved life with him, and he loved it back in return. If only you had been given the chance he once was. "Bring the car." he chokes out, eyes burning with a fierce determination.

"What are you planning?" Tim asks, hesitant as he sees the way Jason's body is coiled, ready to strike.

"We're going to save them." He says softly, hand squeezing your lax one tightly.

God, he just hoped you weren't going to hate him.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"So, you tracked us down to ask for our services?" Thalia scoffs, circling the two of them. "Didn't think I'd have two birds on our doorstep, didn't your mentor teach you better?" she says disdainfully, eyes raking over Tim and Jason. Jason just holds your body closer, wrapped in a white sheet and cradled in his arms. Tim shifts uncomfortably, making Thalia's eyes gleam when she detects the weakness. "Oh," she purrs, almost delighted, crowding into Tim’s space. "You're off the record."

"This doesn't involve Batman." Jason gruffly says. "This involves me. This is my request."

Thalia's eyes flick back to him, but Jason doesn't flinch. He'd dragged Tim along as an accomplice, going dark on the radar as he returned to the alps, the one place he had sworn to never return to. To do the one thing he had told himself he would never force on anyone.

But he couldn't lose you.

"So, you think you can just show back up and ask to use the pits?" She asks, eyes flicking to your form in his arms. "My, you really are as dumb as you are bold, aren't you?" She hums. Jason remains still, eyes focused on the hooded woman in front of him.

"I'll owe you a favour." he says, without a beat of hesitation.

Red Robin's eyes widen behind him, domino mask unable to hide his surprise. "Hood, are you kidding? you can't just-"

"Shut it." Jason hisses back. "This isn't your decision. This is mine, consequences included."

Tim backs down only slightly. "You know what Batman will say. We can't trust these people; they'll use that favour to burn down Gotham. Think."

Jason tries to, he really does. He tries to see the big picture, but all he can see is fragments of you and your life together that was smashed the second he put you in that passenger seat. "I am." he says softly.

He could walk away now and save Gotham for sure, or he could stay and save his world.

Thalia sidles up to him, lips pulled into a smirk, like a snake rearing its head. "I could do you a deal if that's the case." she says, eyes sparkling like emeralds. "But you have to make good on it. You of all should know how we handle broken promises in the League."

Jason considers it for a second, before steeling himself. There was no other option for him.

"You have a deal."

"I knew bringing you back would be worth it." she smiles, like a cat batting a mouse between its paws. She turns, gesturing for them to follow her with two fingers. "Come." she commands, beginning a clipping pace through the carved stone hideout. Jason follows wordlessly, and Tim soon does a moment after.

"How long have they been dead?" she calls, not even looking back.

"Less than a week." he replies almost immediately. Thalia smiles at that, dark and curious.

"Oh? Snappy, I see. Who exactly is under that blanket to make you run to this corner of the world so quickly?" she grins, stopping at the entrance of a deep set of stairs. She stalks closer, steps echoing and deliberate. With a quick motion she pulls back the sheet from your stiff corpse, eyes raking over your face.

"A lover?" she asks, eyebrows raised at the way Jason holds you closer instinctively.

"None of your business." he replies gruffly, making her roll her eyes.

"We should've taught you how to be subtle." she murmurs, beginning to descend the stairs. He follows into the darkness, shadows beginning to give way to a soft green glow, bouncing off the carved stone walls. Tim takes in the room they step in to at the bottom, a grand, ornate space, yet somehow still appearing crude. Death clings to the atmosphere, cold and uninviting.

"Hood, is this where-" he begins quietly, but Jason cuts him off.

"Yes." he says as he follows Thalia deeper, feet stopping by the edge of the glowing green pool. Panic swirls in his gut, making his senses set themselves on fire. His mind races as he tries to control his own fear, to stop the metallic taste from rising in his throat. Flashes of his own time in the pool pry themselves into the forefront of his memory, making his fists clench in your sheet. He pushes them all down, taking a deep and shaky breath.

This was for you.

"Don't forget, you owe me." Thalia warns, gaze haughty as he kneels by the pool, unwrapping you from your blanket. His heart wrenches seeing your stiff body, eyes still open as if to judge him. When he's untangled the sheet from you, he slowly begins to slip your body into the water, Tim running his hands through his hair in worry behind him.

"Jesus…" Tim breathes, anxiety radiating off him as he watches your body submerge under the green glow of the Lazarus Pit. Jason doesn't move from his kneeling position, Thalia beside him as he scans the water for a sign of life, a sign of movement. A sign of you. After a few tense moments, it happens. A hand breaks through the surface, making Tim jump. Your fingers are clawed in pain, but he chooses to focus on the way your colour returns to the digits. You appear from the pit like you're drowning, eyes rolled into the back of your head as you breach the water. Your mouth is open in a wide gasp, screaming in unmeasurable pain. His heart tears itself in two and his stomach is in knots hearing you make that kind of noise, writhing and clawing at your face.

Thalia watches you scream and double over in the pit, making a mocking pout as madness clouds your eyes. "Aww, how cute. You're just like each other, a match made in hell."

"Shit…" Tim exhales, pacing back and forwards behind him. "Batman isn't going to like this. This isn't right, this isn't right…" he mutters, panic written all over him. Jason drowns both of them out, extending his hand softly towards you, leaning precariously over the waters to gently grip your wrist and guide you his way. He could fix you. he could fix this. He could make it all better.

He guides you until you're in front of him, the familiar burning smell of the Lazarus pit stinging his nose, a smell he struggled to describe yet it haunted him on random nights. His eyes soften under the mask as he sees the panic in your eyes, the shock of coming back paired with the madness fighting to grip your mind. The sound of your cries and screams echoed around the room, a sound so full of pain and fear that he couldn't help but flinch.

He could teach you, the way he was taught. He could help you get your feet back the soft way, a way he wished he could have been offered. He'd do everything in his power to make your second chance as painless as possible. He'd nurse your mind back if that's what it needed, calm the rages late at night if you had them. He'd take you in any form you came to him, growing pains and all. He'd teach you how to live again.

He only hoped that you wouldn't hate him forever for bringing you back.

[siconetribal]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💚

I have been sitting on this for so long because I just couldn't decide! (Does it matter if they're WiP?) Limiting to five is going to be tough, since I like most of my body of work. I'm working on two currently, so I guess I'll pick a mix of fandoms? Alas, without further ado and in no special order, here is my list (all links lead to chapter 1/one shot. Any and all others can be found in my master post):

Put it on My Tab (Jason Todd)

Summary: Everyone deserves time off, and the vigilantes of Gotham are no exception to the rule. The boys decide to take a weekend to let loose. Who knew a few drinks would lead to a stranger in bed? A/N: This was an idea I had sitting in my head that was planned to a few parts, now it's multiple chapters. I'm glad it's well received, I was super nervous people wouldn't like how I depicted Jason.

Coffee Shop (Ryo Bakura)

Summary: The morning rush waits for no one, and that first hit of caffeine is a must! But what can you do when you're stuck behind someone who can't settle on an order?! A/N: I know there's always a lot of Yami Bakura fics, so I wanted to a give a little shout-out to the host himself, Ryo Bakura.

Revenge (Rika)

Summary: How could her friends abandon her, forsake the paradise she had awaiting them? What could she do to right these wrongs? A/N: Please read TW. A Mystic Messenger fic written from the perspective of the antagonist. My first time ever writing one, and I'm still fairly proud of it.

Relaxing Tea (Satsuki Kitaoji)

Summary: On a street lined with fancy boutiques, there stood a quaint little place on the corner. During the day it remained closed, but come around 4 PM, the lights were on and the open sign sat in the window. Unassuming yet inviting, it attracted the people in need of something. A something that the busy world was unable to give. One evening on the way back from a busy night, a particular man stood at its threshold. Something beckoned him here. A/N: One of my first Voltage fics that I've written, and possibly one of the first fics I've ever written on here.

Plus One (Loki)

Summary: Loki debuts with the Avengers, and all the news and media outlets are dying for the latest scoop. How does one actually get the attention of a prince who once was only seen as a god from lore? A/N: This one didn't get a lot of love, which kinda hurt since I really liked it.

THIS TOOK LONGER THAN IT NEEDED TO, STILL! I battled with a fifth option, trying not to repeat any fandoms!

[yoosungisbabie]

on call - day one

welcome to Jumin Week 2023! I know I've been gone for a long time, but this event always manages to bring me back. I hope you all are doing well, and I hope you enjoy all the works that will be shared during this wonderful week!

@juminweek2019

jumin x mc

rating: T - for teen and up audiences

prompt: free day!

warnings: female pronouns used for mc/reader ♡

word count: 3,266

ao3 link

“I just got out of the shower,” she finally said, making Jumin falter even further. His mind stuttered, multiple questions surfacing as he blinked quickly. “What does that have to do with this?” he wondered aloud, unable to stop himself before he could even think through his own question. She sputtered out a tense laugh, the noise tickling his senses even though he was on high alert. “Jumin, I’m na— I’m not…clothed? Gosh,” she sighed, and Jumin blinked quickly, shaking his head to clear his mind. Of course that was what she meant.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Jumin slowly twisted his pen closed, placing it back in the pen cup next to his monitor. He let his eyes scan over his paperwork and the correspondence pulled up on his computer, assessing whether or not he could consider his task done.

Just as he decided he was satisfied with the outcome, his phone began to vibrate violently in his pocket. It was rare that clients or business partners dialed his personal phone during working hours, so he reached into his suit’s inner pocket out of curiosity.

Flipping it over in his hand, he felt his eyebrows raise at the caller ID. His fingers twitched, and he hesitated for a brief moment before he accepted the call.

“Hello, MC. I’m at my office, but I have a moment to take your call,” he said, unable to help the small smile that began to spread across his lips.

“Hi, Jumin,” she sighed, sounding less than pleased. His anticipation to hear her voice chilled into concern, his posture tightening minutely.

“What’s wrong?” he asked immediately, disregarding any questions in his mind about why he felt so panicked.

“Oh, nothing!” she replied quickly, pausing and letting out another breath. “I just, um…” She pulled the phone away from her face to clear her throat.

“I need help with…something,” she spoke slowly, sounding very unsure. The whole situation had him unsettled, and he immediately stood from his chair, placing a steadying hand on his desk.

“What is it?” he wondered sternly, running through a mental checklist of personnel he trusted.

“I forgot something in my apartment, and I…can’t get it,” she continued, her voice strained.

“Are you injured? You sound like you are in pain,” he said worriedly, pressing his lips together as his mind raced.

“No, I’m fine, but um,” she clarified, calming him only slightly. “I forgot my towel.”

“No problem. I can send someone over immediately,” he said, pushing his chair aside and beginning towards his office door. “What instructions would you like me to give them?”

“No, you don’t have to— I mean,” she started, taking a deep breath. Jumin hesitated where he stood, waiting for her to continue.

“I just got out of the shower,” she finally said, making Jumin falter even further. His mind stuttered, multiple questions surfacing as he blinked quickly.

“What does that have to do with this?” he wondered aloud, unable to stop himself before he could even think through his own question.

She sputtered out a tense laugh, the noise tickling his senses even though he was on high alert.

“Jumin, I’m na— I’m not…clothed? Gosh,” she sighed, and Jumin blinked quickly, shaking his head to clear his mind. Of course that was what she meant.

“And you’re in a first-floor apartment,” he continued quietly, pushing his hair from his forehead. He tried to ignore the way his cheeks had warmed or the distracting route his mind was taking.

“Right, and I just need someone to grab my towel or even some clothes,” she sighed, sounding relieved that someone finally understood her predicament.

“Please send me your address. I will be there within 15 minutes,” he said decidedly, buttoning his jacket closed with one hand and pulling open his office door.

“What? Jumin, you don’t personally have to come, I just thought—“

“Nonsense. There are little to no staff members I would trust with this task,” he said as if his assistance was the only solution to her problem. In actuality, there were many more solutions that didn’t interrupt his workday, and he knew it.

“I suppose,” she relented, and he exhaled with finality, motioning to Jaehee as he strode past her.

“Okay, um. My towel! It’s in the laundry basket on the couch in the living room. I think,” MC said, and he made a mental note as he stepped into the elevator.

“And is your apartment door unlocked?” he wondered, hoping that her unprecedented entrance into the RFA had taught her even a little about prioritizing her safety.

“Oh. No…” she muttered, and he couldn’t hold back a crooked smile. Imagining her befuddled face brought only one word to mind. Cute.

“I’ll call a locksmith to meet me at your apartment,” he smiled, hearing her inhale quickly just before he pulled his phone away from his ear to multitask.

“No, it’s okay! I have a hidden key,” she provided, making his eyebrows furrow.

“I would suggest that you remove that in the future, but surprisingly, it will solve some of our problems today,” he said after a moment of thought. Unexpectedly, she cursed quietly, making Jumin pause as the elevator doors opened.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she sighed. Jumin placed a hand against the door of the elevator, holding it open for a moment longer while he listened.

“Why?” he wondered, glancing around the parking garage until he watched Driver Kim pull forward to where he stood.

“I did something as dumb as forgetting my towel, and you’re going through all of this just to help,” she muttered. He could hear the way her lips were pouted through the phone, and it made him all the more anxious to render aid and arrive to her quickly.

“Humans can be very forgetful,” he offered, pulling open the car door and sliding in smoothly. He pulled his phone away from his face to put it on speaker, copying her address from their private message thread and forwarding it to Driver Kim. Putting his phone back up to his ear, he continued.

“I once forgot a client's date of birth during a business meeting and could have made them extremely uncomfortable,” he began, pulling his seatbelt over his lap and buckling it as the car pulled away.

“Luckily, I remembered not a moment too soon that they were born on August the 7th, and I redeemed myself. Not that they knew I had forgotten,” he said, raising his eyebrows as he heard her begin to laugh.

“I didn’t realize I was being funny,” he said, more to himself than to her. She caught her breath, giggling once more before responding.

“Thank you for cheering me up, Jumin,” she said warmly, making him reevaluate what he had said to her. Was that what he’d done?

“I’ll let you go now, but please arrive safely,” she said before he could reply, and he cleared his throat, nodding to himself.

“I will,” he agreed, hearing her hum in contentment.

“And thank you, again,” she breathed, chuckling lightly. He hesitated, fighting the inclination to answer her gratitude with dismissal, wanting to say that it was nothing. It started a strange sensation in his chest as he realized it wasn’t that he didn’t mind helping, but that he wanted to.

“I’ll be there soon,” was all he could say in reply, slightly disappointed in himself when he hung up instead of waiting for her to say her final goodbye.

The car ride there was all too short and much too long as he drowned in his own thoughts. Was he the first person she had called? Did this kind of thing happen often? What other things was she forgetful about? Who else would she have reached out to if he were unavailable?

Once they arrived and he stepped foot outside of his vehicle, Jumin tried to keep his thoughts clinical, focusing on the task at hand and not the way it was making him feel.

He entered the lobby with one of his security guards, glancing at the attendants behind the desk briefly and nodding. They gaped at him in silence as he walked to the elevator.

Once they arrived on her floor, Jumin instructed his guard to wait for him by the elevator doors. He then felt his heart begin to beat in a way he wasn’t quite familiar with. It only persisted as he approached her apartment, his chest feeling tight and warm in an almost uncomfortable way.

He double-checked the number on the door just above the peephole, pausing when he realized that she hadn’t told him where her hidden key was. Scanning the area, he hesitantly reached to feel along the top of the doorway and tapped lightly on the dusty surface until he bumped the key with his fingers. Pulling it down to eyesight, he frowned, wondering why she would put herself in danger in such a way.

He knocked thrice, pausing briefly before pushing the key into the lock and turning it until it clicked. Pressing his lips together in anticipation, he slowly opened the door.

“Please excuse me,” he spoke softly, stepping inside and taking the key from the lock. He closed the door behind himself, looking around quickly.

Her apartment wasn’t very large, but it was decorated in a way that confirmed without a doubt that she indeed lived there. It felt refreshing, with colors that reminded him of her and open spaces, and he could see little touches that were undoubtedly hers. He felt some of the tension in his chest fade, placing the key down on the table near the door and thinking of all the security measures he would like to talk with her about.

Looking down, he instinctively began taking his shoes off. Once he had, he glanced around for a pair of extra slippers for him to use, finding only a small pair of pink, flowery ones. He slipped them on, feeling the back ends hit his heels and wondering if he should just continue in his socks. Feeling strangely apprehensive, he stepped further into her apartment in her slippers, reminding himself of the task at hand.

“MC?” he called out, scanning the apartment to find where she could be. He noticed a closed door as he stepped through to her living area, nearly bumping into the back of her couch. Remembering her instructions, he looked down to see a basket overflowing with clean laundry sitting on the couch. He paused, seeing undergarments in the basket as well as towels and clothes. As carefully as he could, he picked out a blue towel, managing to lift it from the basket without disturbing anything else.

He folded the bath towel over his arm, glancing back to the door where he thought he was hearing movement from.

“MC? It’s Jumin,” he said, wondering why his jaw felt stiff.

“Jumin?” she called out from behind the door, making his eyes widen. He forced himself to take another step forward, clearing his throat.

“Yes, it’s me,” he replied, stopping a few paces from the door.

“Thank goodness,” he heard her sigh. His relief quickly turned into gripping tension when the doorknob began to turn. His eyes widened briefly before he shut them tight, turning his head and making sure he still had the towel.

“I have your towel here,” he spoke, his voice coming out strained. He heard the door open, feeling the humidity from the shower rush out to meet him.

“Thank you so much, Jumin,” she said, a smile of relief evident in her voice. He couldn’t reply just yet, taking the towel and handing it out toward her voice. When he extended his arm fully, his hand bumped hers, making his eyes fly open before he could even think.

Luckily, it was only her forearm that was extended past the door. She felt around blindly until she found the towel, his hand lingering in the empty air as he watched her close the door.

“I really appreciate it,” she reiterated, her voice muffled. “I can’t thank you enough, really. I feel so bad that you came all the way here.” He composed himself again, picking a small, blue string from his sleeve with shaky hands.

“It’s no bother at all,” he said loudly enough for her to hear. “Is there anything else you need while I’m here?” he found himself asking, his hands tensing at the thought of making her uncomfortable or overstaying his welcome.

“Oh no, not at all,” she answered quickly, her voice moving farther from the door.

“Alright, then I’ll be on my way,” he said, sparing another glance at the door before starting towards the exit.

“Jumin!” she called, startling him. He rushed back over to the door, his hand lingering just above the metal of the doorknob.

“Yes? What is it?” he pressed, resting his other hand against the wood of the door.

“Do you have time to stay?” she wondered, surprising him so fully that he was silent for a moment.

“Stay?” was all he could get out, his mind racing much too quickly.

“I haven’t seen you since the party, so if you would give me just a minute to get dressed?” she asked, making his eyebrows furrow together. She just wanted to see him?

“O-of course,” he nodded, backing away from the door just a bit.

“Unless you’re busy?” she prompted.

“I have time,” he responded quickly, feeling his thoughts bouncing around uncontrollably.

“Okay! Please make yourself at home,” she said, her smile present in his mind as she spoke.

Jumin stepped fully away from the door, ignoring the way his phone began to buzz more and more often in his pocket.

He took another look around, glancing at the large windows that looked out over the courtyard of the apartment complex. After a moment, he reached up and pulled just the sheer curtains closed, hoping that would make her feel more at ease.

He was drawn towards her television that was mounted on the wall, seeing a plethora of framed pictures on the console beneath it. Scanning each one, he stopped when he landed on the group photo of the RFA that had been taken at the party. It had taken a few minutes to get everyone in one place and to get a picture that everyone was satisfied with, but the picture she had framed was not the final picture they had all decided on. Instead, she had chosen one where everyone was bickering about where to stand, how to pose, and what Luciel should and shouldn’t be doing. He hadn’t gotten to look through all of the photos taken that day, but this still in particular felt like something he needed to have for himself. In the photo, he noticed that his gaze was focused on MC completely, and the expression he was wearing was not one he believed he’d ever seen on himself.

The door opening behind him startled him out of his thoughts, making him jump and turn to look. He turned back around just as quickly, seeing MC begin to step out in just her towel. His hands trembled slightly, the tips of his ears feeling all too warm.

“Nearly done, sorry! Just grabbing some clothes,” she explained, the soft sound of her feet against the wood floor disappearing down the hall towards what he guessed was her room. He was glad he hadn’t wandered in that direction.

Opening his eyes slowly, he focused his thoughts on the photo in front of him once more. Although the party had been less mundane than in the past, the only thing that got him through was seeing MC flourish in that party hall. Apart from looking stunning, she was kind, friendly, and wildly charismatic that night. It was a miracle in motion for Jumin, and it was truly a shame that they hadn’t seen each other since that night.

He turned away from the photo, hoping to distance himself from the surge of emotion that was building in his core that he couldn’t name. She stepped out of her room just then, looking excited to see him as she lit up with a beautiful smile.

The wave of emotion he’d tried to elude washed over him almost painfully, freezing his muscles in place. He was unable to stop the thoughts rushing through his mind, pressing his lips together as he mentally formed a very concerning one.

Is this what love feels like?

He didn’t know what romantic love meant, he only knew that he had decided never to engage in it. Whatever was happening to him right then didn’t feel wrong, but he also couldn’t quite put a label on it. He just knew that he wanted to keep seeing her, no matter what it meant.

“It’s so good to see you again,” she grinned, moving quickly towards him as he tried to regain control of himself. He felt his lips pull back into a smile, his shoulders relaxing and his hands losing their fists.

“Likewise,” he breathed out, watching her blink at him with wide eyes.

“I don’t mean to keep you long, I just…” she started, dropping her smile and then immediately turning her lips upward into another one, almost as if she too couldn’t help herself. “I wanted to see you,” she finished quietly, completely unaware of the way her small admittance made his heart stutter in his chest.

“Anytime,” he nodded without hesitation, watching her meet his eyes in confusion.

“I know how busy you are,” she said, raising her eyebrows for him to agree.

“Anytime. Really,” he repeated, thinking to himself that no matter the issue, he would drop anything if she was the one who was calling. He watched as she pulled her eyes from his and met them again multiple times, her smile growing timid. He blinked, taking his eyes from her and wondering if he was making her uncomfortable.

“Thank you, again,” she said to break the silence, bowing to him and making him frown.

“There’s no need for that,” he said quickly, taking a step forward and drawing her attention down to the ill-fitting slippers on his feet. She grinned, straightening up again and softening at him.

“You’re very kind, Jumin. I admire that about you,” she continued. He felt himself reaching to adjust his cufflinks, signaling to himself that he needed a change of scenery or he would more than likely do something he would regret.

“MC,” was all that left his lips, making her smile falter and the air grow thick around them.

“Well, I shouldn’t keep you. Please get back safely,” she smiled, wringing her hands together. He nodded, breaking eye contact with her and turning himself towards the door.

“I hope to see you again soon,” he said, seeing her shoulders move towards her ears from the corner of his vision. “I have many topics I’d like to discuss with you. Such as security,” he continued, trying to shift his mind away from the precarious edge at which he’d found himself.

“Security?” she repeated, watching him bend down to place her slippers back where he had found them. Stepping into his shoes, he hummed in agreement.

“You never told me where your key was,” he continued, raising an eyebrow at her and watching as her lips tightened in chagrin. Before a moment had passed, her expression broke into laughter, making another effortless smile stretch onto his lips.

“I’ll be more careful,” she chuckled, taking the key from the table and turning it over in her hands. He nodded, feeling his sternum buzz at the thought of returning to her apartment in the future.

“I’m counting on it,” he said softly, bowing slightly before he opened the door and stepped through. She let it close behind him, not saying another word.

Jumin couldn’t help but linger by her door, his back to it as he convinced himself to keep moving. Once he finally found it in himself to do so, he started back towards the elevator and pulled his phone out, checking his calendar for his next available free day.

~~~~~

hello! thank you all so much for reading!! I have been absolutely not on tumblr at all, but like I said, I can't stay away from Jumin Week <3 if you enjoyed this, please consider liking and reblogging! it really means a lot to me, especially if you leave a note in the notes or in your tags!

again, thank you so much, and I hope you all have a great day!

Mel x

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With the Truth in Our Hands: Chapter 40

Hello everyone! Just wanted to pop on here and say...Not dead? Not abandoned? Here’s a little update for WTIOH for nostalgia's sake.  

You can read it on Ao3.  

Hope you enjoy! and thank you for those who occasionally pop in or tag me on twitter. Love ya'll!