#The fact that I never did draw on here from Gravity Falls despite my love for the show it's outrageous

[bonniecupcake]

Mabel making new friends 💜🎀

[sundrownsthehouse]

Take this pain bestie 👀🥹

I'm determined to have a new chapter posted by the end of the year! I know it's been so long, and I really appreciate that people still care about this silly little story. I've been writing today actually and realized that I have about 5K down, which would make this my longest update so far. I'm still very in love with this fic- I'm just trying to figure out who I am as a writer a little bit.

But! As a treat and a sincerely heartfelt thank you, here is an excerpt from the next chapter with some insight into George's thoughts, starting where we last left off:

The faded grey light of the city filtered in from the windows where they’d forgotten to draw the curtains closed, casting streaky shadows across the ceiling. There was a gentle hush over the hotel room broken only by the muted hum of the aircon. George gazed up into the darkness. Comfortably cocooned in cool, plush blankets with a warm body at his side, it should have been easy for him to fall asleep; this was the exact kind of quiet stillness he craved while on tour. And yet.

His eyes flicked down to the top of Matty’s head where it lay heavily on his chest, dark curls spilling across his skin. He could tell that Matty was still awake by the cadence of his breathing. Despite himself, George was hyperaware of the fact that Matty must be able to hear his heart hammering out a steady rhythm against his ribs. That notion alone threatened to send it racing.

And that’s sort of strange, George thought as he stared at the ceiling, because they’d done this so many times. Matty’s presence at his side was so familiar, it really shouldn’t provoke much of a reaction at all. Then again, it was unusual to lie awake together, entangled like this, without feigning ignorance; the cuddling wasn’t something they’d ever acknowledged openly in the past. It had never bothered George before, the way they’d always danced around it— it hadn’t really mattered�� but to think about it now made him inexplicably sad. He didn’t know why they tried to pretend that they didn’t want the same things.

Over and over the night replayed itself in George’s mind, the gravity of it all weighing on him. In the span of only forty-eight hours everything he thought he knew and felt about his relationship with Matty had changed. It was confusing, overwhelming, and slightly terrifying. There was so much he still didn’t understand. The unspoken questions permeated the air between them like a thick fog. What did it mean, exactly, that they both seemed to want… something more? Did it have to mean anything at all?

And what if it did? What then?

As much as George had wanted to pretend that everything was fine, the degree of Matty’s distress had seriously shaken him; they needed to talk about this. In the morning, George told himself firmly. Now wasn’t the time, not when they were both utterly exhausted. He found himself wishing, not for the first time, that he could actually read Matty’s mind; even seeing Matty’s expression would give him some idea of where they stood. Nevertheless, he was secretly grateful they weren’t face-to-face. George was a little afraid of what he might find, and somehow, more intimidated by what Matty might see.

The bed shifted slightly. Matty sighed. The puff of breath was warm on George’s skin, already sensitized by the tiny brush of Matty’s lashes as he blinked, gazing out at a city still aglow despite the late hour. George shivered curiously at the feeling. An unexpected wave of shame that he couldn’t reconcile burned in the pit of his stomach.

[real-jane]

drifting (13) *end*

[cw!bucky barnes x female!reader]

summary: bucky saves the life of a woman when she’s buried in an avalanche. faced with the possibility that his cover might be blown, bucky must keep the woman alive, and try to keep her from finding out who he is… or what he’s done.

how long can he hide?

warnings: emotions. lots of 'em. fluff abounding. nick fury goes soft. author entirely ignores consequences.

word count: 6.7k+

a/n: this is the end, my loves! thank you so much for your patience as i finish this last installment. there will be an epilogue, but here's where the main story leaves us.

series masterlist

***

Arnim Zola has always been an unimposing man, but something about seeing him stretched out on a cold metal table makes him seem unimportant. His face is slack; the beaded glue at the corners of his eyes indicates they’ve already been sealed shut by the coroner, as have his lips (which pull at the center because of gravity, giving him a thin grimace). Though he was killed because Soldat snapped his neck, there is evidence this wasn’t the only injury to his person. But Bucky can’t say, or won’t—something she doesn’t begrudge him for considering the amount of trauma Arnim Zola put them both through—so the visible blood is set dressing.

Her father, head of HYDRA, blooms a ruddy brown stain beneath his solar plexus.

She isn’t sure why she asked to see him, except his death isn’t real until she has. After everything she and Bucky went through, the man responsible for it all is… a sack of bones and skin. A shell. A hollow victory. Whatever being lived in that body had at one time been quite caring to her, and that’s why it rankles. But she didn’t know, when he read to her of hobbits and wizards, just how evil he was.

Helmut Zemo was not to be trusted, but why would he have lied about something so horrible? “He wanted to discern if the Asset could still feel.”

Who in their right mind would ever accuse James Barnes of being unfeeling? Surely not the man who held her face in his hands before the nurse took him back into surgery and said “I’ll be fine. I promise. I��m okay, doll, I won’t be long,” before kissing her forehead like he had just told her he was going off to war, and he’d be home once the whole thing had blown over. In reality, even when he was the Asset, he was emotional. It wasn’t apparent at first, but once she cracked his shell, he was intense. Now, he is careful with her, but he still feels his emotions on a full spectrum.

She hopes Bucky isn’t panicked, being alone in the OR with a strange doctor and beeping machines. Dr. Banner won’t have to cut into him, or draw any blood to remove his arm, based on what Nat said. Still. Imagining him going catatonic given his current post-triggered state has her pacing in the morgue.

The fact that her father lays on the table before her hasn’t sunken in. The last time she saw him, she was his Mark. No longer. Y/n braces her hands on the cold metal beside her father as a red memory flashes.

Nothing is sacred. His final words to her before forcing Soldat to dig his knife into her belly.

“Some things are sacred, Папа. Despite everything you did?” She clicks her tongue. “You never could touch Bucky’s goodness. I bet that killed you. Knowing your experiment backfired. Not only did your ultimate soldier fall in love with your little girl–it didn’t end in Belarus. 

“I remember how you talked about him, when you thought I was asleep. I would sneak out of bed, and sit outside your office door and listen. You worshiped Soldat like a god. One time–” Y/n is caught off guard by the wave of clarity in the memories unlocked. She scrubs a hand over her face. 

“One time he came through the door and I wasn’t expecting it. He scooped me up and put me back to bed. I turned nineteen days prior. You forgot. He didn’t. He had been standing behind you, while you lorded over some peon agent, folding me a rabbit out of paper.”

With hair shorter than it is now, falling into his eyes, Bucky had knelt beside her cot (which was once again located in solitary confinement after an outburst had led to isolating punishment) and handed over his gift. She hadn’t known his name back then. He hadn’t been able to recall it himself. But he knew hers, and he whispered С днем рождения, and tucked the paper rabbit between her fingers. 

“He hadn’t even kissed me yet,” Y/n sighs. “But he was so gentle. He knew you’d be furious if you found me listening at the keyhole, but I was so desperate for any attention from you, I didn’t care. I was finally an adult… waiting for you to remember me. Well. You did. When I was part of your quest to make sure your soldier was unbreakable. 

“I don’t hate you for it, I wish I did–but maybe in your fucked up way, that was the last way you knew how to show me you loved me. That man has given me more reason to live than you ever did, for all your idioms about love being honest and kind. You were right. If only you could’ve been my doting parent instead of this ugly person. My Папа. You were everything to me until I was old enough to manipulate–mother and father. Now you’re a corpse.

“That’s–that isn’t true. I had Nat. Thank god she got out. You know what’s really sad?” She shrugs. “Nobody’s left to bury you. They asked me what I’d like done with your body, as if I even get a say. You’re gonna go to a body farm in upstate New York so students can study you. Because, see–I don’t think you earned a peaceful rest, and forgiveness wasn’t a value you instilled in me.”

As angry as she feels, it’s grief which wrings her ribcage. Despite everything, it is desperately sad to know that he’s well and truly gone. “Я тебя люблю, Папа.” Because she does love him. The line between such affection and hatred is fuzzy.  

She covers the face of the man who shares half her DNA with the sheet. When she turns on her heel and meets Natasha at the door, she leaves behind the lion’s share of resentment. In its place, she only has one remaining emotion for Arnim Zola. Sadness.

***

Bruce Banner is a deft hand with a laser pointer. It doesn’t require sedation for the titanium cybernetic weapon to be removed from the housing fused with Bucky’s shoulder; an hour of Banner’s diligence with a tool of his own invention, carving away wires and severing connections, and the implant is no longer attached to his body. The doctor takes extra care to be sure that his socket bears no exposed wires, and a nurse plops a set of clean sweats into Bucky’s lap.

A warm bundle of nervous energy collides with his chest as the nurse escorts him back to the med bay waiting room, once he’s given the chance to bathe. She wraps her arms around his waist, and he can’t help but chuckle. Y/n isn’t alone, but Natasha busies herself answering messages to give them the illusion of privacy. Steve is nowhere to be seen.

“How are you?” Y/n asks his sweatshirt. 

Bucky taps her cheek so she’ll look at him. Her eyes are wide, until she reads the look on his face. He can’t quite make the words come to describe how he feels to be permanently separated from the bionic limb, because most of the ones which spring to mind are fragments of the sensation currently coursing through him. The sting in his eyes betrays some kind of relief, or grief perhaps. His posture is unbalanced, and almost weak… and free. But still on a precipice between always belonging to HYDRA, so. Bucky attempts to make anything come out of his mouth.

“Конец эры,” she suggests. The end of an era, the most painful road. Her hand hovers over the empty sleeve at his side, and she puts herself to work cuffing it up. He studies her face as whatever thoughts she’s having flicker across her expression. She doesn’t hide her concern, nor does she hide the smile which pulls at her mouth when she clocks his damp hair. 

“They let you clean up. Good,” she huffs. “I hope you got better than the god-awful locker room showers.”

Bucky rubs her arm. “Doesn’t hold a candle to the cabin’s water pressure, does it?”

“Suppose HYDRA did one thing right, in all this.” She tries to laugh it off, but she can’t keep eye contact. 

“So it’s confirmed.”

“Nat got the full report. There were cameras,” she says softly. “They must have planted the coordinates in your mind at some point. Maybe gave you the idea during the altercation in St. Louis.”

“Shit.” He looks at the red-head. Natasha nods once when she notices his attention has shifted. She stands, holding out her phone.

“The tech is pedestrian. The cameras took still photographs every thirty seconds. Three cameras in each room, five outside.” Natasha folds her arms.

The photograph on the screen was snapped from above, depicting the living room of the cabin. The quality is grainy. The two of them are seated on the couch, and Y/n’s head is laid against his shoulder. Bucky holds a book in hand, but he’s not looking at it. He’s watching her in curiosity. Bucky glances at her now, and she worries her lip between her teeth. 

“How did you get this?” he asks Natasha.

“There was a thumb drive amongst Zemo’s things. He likely intended to use it as leverage for a lighter punishment, were he to be captured alive.”

“Must be thousands of images,” Bucky says. “How far back do they date?”

“A few days prior to your arrival. Tech estimates there are some forty-thousand just of you two.”

“They saw it all.” 

Bucky hands Natasha her phone back, and squeezes Y/n’s shoulder. “How much have you looked through?”

“None,” she says. “I don’t want to watch us through their eyes.”

“There is one you should see. If nothing else.” Natasha flicks her finger until she finds what she’s referring to. “Maria sent me a few highlights, but this made me proud, Пчёлка.” 

She waits until Y/n gives her consent, and turns the phone to display the photo in question: her, kneeling on Rumlow’s chest with only socks on her feet, pressing a knife to his throat. Her mouth is poised mid-sentence, and Bucky looks on from behind her. 

“You’re probably mouthing off,” Natasha says lovingly.

“Can’t help it,” Y/n laughs. “He brought out the worst in me!” Curiosity gets the best of her and she swipes across the screen. The image prior depicts something else, which Bucky would rather nobody else have access to, especially the suits and egos of SHIELD.

It’s him… clutching her against his chest for dear life, demanding she explain why she had a phone all that time. The camera angle doesn’t allow for his face to be seen, but it does capture her stricken expression. He remembers the way the quilt felt stifling, but not how her legs were twisted up in the sheet. Just his own panic, how his anger rose into a fever pitch even as he held her so tightly her joints might have groaned. 

“How could I know you? Why do I know you–”

“There is only one possible way, but I don’t know. My memory is like Swiss cheese, even after my treatments–”

“How?”

No… The intrusive vision fades back into the past where it belongs. Bucky grasps her wrist and eases the phone out of her hold, which has turned desperate. Natasha takes her device back with a regretful grimace. Y/n’s fingers are frozen open until he slots his in, cradling her palm… she squeezes back in thanks. 

“Definitely don’t want to see more,” she breathes. 

Natasha brushes her arm. “Okay. No need.”

Y/n clears thick emotion from her throat. Bucky hugs her against his chest, his arm draped across her sternum. He kisses the crown of her head the way he wanted to do when he found out she wasn’t who he thought… it was mere days ago, but it might as well be decades. Time never has meant much where she is concerned. Two weeks in isolation together established a lifetime of familiarity, and–

“What now?” she murmurs. Her free hand grips his wrist for purchase. 

“Well–” Natasha’s phone buzzes. She answers promptly. “Yeah? Okay–no, we’ll meet you there. None. Actually…” She trails off, glancing around the med bay, which… the ward is strangely empty. There are no nurses puttering around, no more agents waiting on the fringe with guns trained. In the time it took for Bucky to be released, the medical bay was vacated, and in all the excitement of looking through the footage, she hadn’t noticed. The Black Widow bows her head, a smile pulling at her cheeks, which belies either exasperation or amazement. Maybe both. 

“Nat?” No mistaking the deep voice which calls out into the silence. 

“Steven,” she sighs. “Are you sure?”

He’s practically yelling, like he’s running. His voice is clear as day. “Mind’s made up, sweetheart. Fury said there’s nothing he can do, so. It’s in our hands. The all-assemble alert went out ninety seconds ago, so you have about five minutes to meet me in hangar C before anyone realizes what’s happening.”

“You’re not off the hook.” Nat waves for her two companions to hasten towards the stairwell. 

“I’ll think of more ways to make it up to you.” 

“Still top of my shit list.”

“At least I’m at the top.” His tone is mischievous, like he’s grinning on the other end of the line. Natasha hangs up on him while rolling her eyes dramatically, but her face is pink.

She shoulders the door open and leads them at a bracing pace, down four flights of stairs to the bottom floor. Bucky allows himself an instant of amusement over the fact that he and Y/n are in matching sweats. It’s almost precious (if such a word can describe Bucky Barnes). Dueling blues with SHIELD printed on their arms and legs, looking like they’re about to lead some kind of aerobics class. She peeks back at him for the millionth time to make sure he’s at her heels, and catches him with his eyes glazed over, and Bucky’s suddenly aware they’re being led down a dark corridor in the basement of the compound. 

“Nat–clue us in?” Y/n asks, when her sister-in-arms wrenches open yet another gray door with no window and ushers them through. The red head smirks.

“Fury can’t–won't help. So. We’ve progressed to Plan B.”

“Steve’s just gotten a pardon. He’s really willing to risk it?”

“Yes. He’s trying.”

“Natasha. Бабочка–”

“Stop. We only have about two minutes.” 

They tumble out of a heavier door (which requires Bucky’s kick to force open, between rust and painted-over hinges) into a small hangar. Natasha breaks into a sprint, heading for a quinjet, one of only three aircraft being housed in the veritable warehouse. Overhead, a loud alarm starts to blare.

Natasha winces. “Shit–pick up the pace!” 

The engines of the jet roar to life. Natasha slams her fist into a button beside the belly hatch of the jet, but she’s not quick enough for the rush of agents, pouring through the door which had allowed them into the hangar and another one at the opposite end. The grand door rises slowly, while Natasha puts herself between Bucky, Y/n, and the agents. A heavy hand lands on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Get in, you two.” Steve. With his arm bandaged, wearing a flight suit. 

“Do what he says,” Natasha barks over her shoulder.

Y/n shakes her head in disbelief. “This is crazy–”

“Bee, I love you, get on the fucking airplane.” Natasha brandishes her guns as if she personally can take on a passel of SHIELD agents. Bucky doesn’t need to be told twice, so he hops inside the aircraft and tugs Y/n up behind him. Steve gives him a salute. 

“Natasha?” Cap calls expectantly.

“Go, Rogers!” 

“I’m infirm, sweets. I was recently on morphine. Should I really be flying this thing?”

“Swear to god,” she grumbles. She looks back at Steve with a hard stare. He points to the empty bucket seat beside him with an innocent, pleading smile. It takes her a split-second of exasperation to decide. Then she slams the closing mechanism for the plane at the same moment Steve begins driving forward. Nat grabs his face and kisses him. Hard. She sits, buckles herself in, and flicks the switches Steve can’t reach, given his bandaged arm. 

“Why aren’t they shooting?” Bucky breathes. 

Steve gestures to the open hangar door. Standing in the doorway, with his arms crossed… in equally casual sweats, with sunglasses on (and a bandage taped from temple to nape), stands Nick Fury. He raises a hand to his ear. Nat’s phone rings.

She lets out a long sigh. Steve extends his hand to accept the responsibility, but she answers on speakerphone, for the benefit of the whole cabin.

“Nick.”

“What are you doing?”

“He needs help.”

“Do you know how many conventions you’re breaking–he’s an international fugitive.”

“He was a prisoner of war, Nick,” Natasha scoffs. 

“You couldn’t wait an hour for me?” He throws his hands up in annoyance. “I’m reasonable. I’m worried about Senator Payne, I had to make sure word hadn’t reached him yet. And that T’challa was prepared to accept a fugitive into his protection. Again.”

Steve’s mouth drops open. “Sir–you told me you couldn’t help him.”

“What can I do, Rogers? I’m a pencil pusher. I’m not a doctor. What use is Nicholas Fury to a man who needs real medical help?” Fury scoffs. “But our allies in Wakanda have a pretty clear idea how to treat him. If you had been patient… waited for me to finish making arrangements, you would be aware that the King has accepted my request to give Barnes asylum.”

Bucky’s heartbeat roars in his ears, and he can’t make out anything else but the thrum of his blood. But there are fingers in his, clasped, keeping him grounded. The trade of Steve and Natasha’s voices bounce around in his brain. 

“So he’s free–” Steve sounds ready to cry.

“As long as he surrenders himself into Wakanda’s care, he’s not my biggest concern. Seems I’ve had a rat in my ranks, and who knows how long it will take to suss out if Rumlow had devotees.”

“So.”

“Email me your flight plan, so this is slightly above board? I hate doing anything under the table.”

Natasha snorts. “Says the man who faked his own death.”

“Don’t give me a reason to turn that jet around,” Fury chuckled. “Go. I’ll speak to you once you land.”

Y/n’s head falls against Bucky’s shoulder in relief. Steve turns, best as he can given his bandages, and he smiles at his dearest friend. 

“Ready, Buck? It’s gonna be about… two hours in the air.”

“And then…?”

“First,” Y/n says, drawing his attention, “they’ll probably put you into cryostasis for a few days to calm your nervous system. That’s what they did for me. Your body is probably in crisis mode. It’s not safe to start treatment until your cortisol levels are low…” 

She continues explaining what’s supposedly going to happen to him once they reach their final destination, but all Bucky can do is lay his head back and study her. She leans towards him, absently finding the highs and valleys of his knuckles with the finely-filed points of her nails. There is something about her expression–sad, determined to comfort him, panicked… Bucky pulls her hand, tugging, tugging, until she stumbles forward and catches herself on his knee. Y/n’s glassy eyes stare up at him. He winds his arm around her waist to steady her.

“Jamie,” she whimpers. He noses her cheek.

“You’re sad.”

“No, I–no.” She plays with the strings on his hood so she doesn’t have to look him in the eye. “They let me see him.” Her voice is pained. “I’m… I know he is better off dead. But I just–”

“Zola?”

“Yeah. I feel awful. And all I want–all I really need in this world is for you to be okay. I shouldn’t think about him.”

“He’s still your father,” Bucky finished. 

She nodded. “Is it terrible? That I’m heartbroken.”

He adjusts her so she’s seated on his lap. “I don’t think it has to be bad. Or good. It can just… be. Right?” 

Her eyes flicker from side to side as she studies him. She keeps looking at his mouth, but their proximity to their companions on the small jet keeps him from kissing the sad expression off her face. She tucks his hair behind his ears. 

��Mm. I miss being off the grid,” she says lowly. “When this is all over, let’s go away.”

“Wherever you want.” Bucky graces her bottom lip with his thumb. “You could teach me more recipes.”

That entices a smile from her. “What do you want to learn?”

“Anything.”

“Prepare for departure.” Natasha’s voice startles Y/n from his lap, but she already seems less dour. They buckle themselves in.

What else could they have, if they go someplace far away? In a house that belongs to her, what would she want–what else could he give her? Is this possible? Bucky has never imagined having a future in order to plan for it, but. What if?

“Bookshelves?” he breathes.

She laughs. “What?”

“Do you want bookshelves?” Bucky repeats. The jet rumbles along the runway unimpeded, but the force of the movement makes all four of them lean back.

“Hmm. Yeah,” she smiles. “For your four books.”

“It’s aspirational. If I have to build them with one arm, so be it. Besides, you can put stuff on them, too.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t have anything of my own. I left it all in Belarus, and I haven’t had a chance to accumulate anything since.”

“Oh. I—nothing? Then, um. We will find you things. What do you want?”

“I want it all, Jamie,” she whispers. “If you wanna live in an apartment in Brooklyn, let’s go. Cave in Iceland? I’m there. Books, burnt pasta, six feet of snow. Doesn’t matter. As long as you’re there, and you’re okay.”

Her sweet words hit him square in the chest. He can’t help but smile. “This Shuri… she’s gonna help.”

“Mhm.”

“And you’re going to stay–”

“Barnes,” Natasha interrupts, “if you think anybody could keep her from your side, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Y/n winces from embarrassment. Bucky leans over to feel the heat of her cheek against his lips. “I’m persistent,” she admits.

“Stubborn, more like.” Nat winks over her shoulder. 

“Cleared for takeoff, Cap.” The voice over the comm speaks curtly. 

“Ready?” Steve asks. 

Bucky looks to Y/n, and she smiles in encouragement. “Guess so.”

And though Bucky is entirely unprepared for whatever is supposed to be waiting for him in Wakanda, he closes his eyes. He fixates on the shelves he’s going to build for her, and mostly the fact that he’s never picked up a hammer in his life but that he can learn. Apparently he’s going to have a life of his own, where his major concerns might be learning to cook from a beautiful woman (who is even lovelier in his jeans), and finding things to do which don’t include dirty work for major terrorist organizations. Imagine that.

***

Whatever he expects out of Wakanda, his expectations are blown out of the water. Not the least because the moment they land on the grand rotunda, they are met by the King, himself… and a young woman who launches herself at Y/n for a hug which nearly has them both toppling over. The laughter is joyous. The other woman says something in her ear, which makes Y/n peek back at Bucky and extend her hand to him. 

They’re led through a palace, and he isn’t one hundred percent certain his feet are on the ground. At one point, Steve pats his back to make sure he’s alright. Everything is too much. His muscles tug on his bones as his adrenaline finally wears off, for the first time since the safety of the mountain haven–he’s sore. His eyelids strain, he’s sure his eyeballs are bloodshot. Things are too loud. Lights are violently bright. He’s pushed to sit on something with light padding. His breathing is clipped. 

In a second, the room is empty of all other occupants. Her hands are on his cheeks, easing him to lean forward until his forehead is pressed to her shoulder.

She rubs circles at his nape.

“We’re okay,” she soothes. He turns his nose against her neck as if to say I don’t believe you. “Breathe.”

His chest catches on a ragged breath as he tries to match the rise and fall with her body.

“Mmm. Good. They’re gonna help you. You’re safe.”

“Can’t trust my own mind,” he manages, which only summarized a fraction of the paralyzing exhaustion which chips away at his mental walls. 

“Yes you can. James, look at me.” When he does, her eyes are tearful. “You have always fought through the fog. You’re gonna come out of this strong, sweet man.”

“Think so?”

“I know it.”

“And I’m worth… all this–” Bucky gestures broadly to the room he has only begun to take in, what could only be called a hospital room in the most pedestrian of terms because it has windows at least three stories tall. 

“Yes,” she says. 

That’s the beginning and the end of it. He’s heard the finality in that tone before. The shorter her answer, the more certain she is. Bucky is so overwhelmed between the lights and sounds, and the woman, and the possibilities of what’s to come (even though she told him in great detail–he cannot remember one word of the procedure she outlined)... he tucks his hand into her pants pocket and tugs her in between his knees, which makes her laugh and hold him closer. 

“Could use a cigarette,” he says, as evenly as possible given how panic still courses through his veins.

She rolls her eyes. “There he is. You should quit.

“Hm?”

“I’m sure it can’t touch those infallible lungs of yours, but it’s not especially good for your breath. Which I do care about, if you’re curious.” She runs a knuckle over his lips, and he perses them to meet her touch.

“How did we get here?” he mutters.

“Hmm?” 

“Here, doll.” 

“Would you like to be kissed, Jamie? Seems like it.” Her smile curls up at both corners.

“Hmm. My head is killing me, trying to make room for all these new memories–”

“So, yes?”

He narrows his eyes at her lips specifically, which makes them split into a full-on grin. “I could’ve hurt you back there. And you’re concerned about my smoking habit–”

She steals his speech with the softest brush of her mouth against his. “No. You wouldn’t.”

“I stabbed you, once.”

“No… that isn’t what happened.” She levels her face with his so he has to look her in the eye.  “Didn’t matter what orders Zemo gave. You were frozen with your knife digging into my shirt too lightly to ever draw blood. For all the lousy things they put in your head, you wouldn’t hurt me. So. I… forced you. God–you panicked after I lunged forward, you pressed your hand so hard over the wound that I could feel my heart beating against your palm. You got me to Bucharest. I don’t know how. It’s, what–a full day’s drive, if you speed? You must have. On the back of a bike, too.” 

Bucky frowns. But for the life of him, even with the string of new memories, he can’t remember such a thing. All he recalls is holding the knife… and her bleeding. The fact that she made that choice for him stings. Y/n brushes his cheek with her thumb. 

“I knew it wouldn’t end, and I wanted you to be free of me. Because he’d stop lashing out at you, and you’d survive long enough to escape. And–sorry.” She stares up at the ceiling as a wave of emotion hits her. 

“Why are you sorry?”

“I don’t know,” she hiccoughs. “What’s fresh in my head right now is the look you had on your face, knowing you had to leave me in Bucharest so you could protect my cover.”

“You screamed for me,” he realizes. The echo of her call comes to him. 

She swipes at her tears. “Until I was hoarse.”

“Are you…” Bucky scratches his jaw. “I don’t know how to ask this.”

“Ask, Jamie. Please.”

“Are you upset to remember everything?” He braces himself.

“Are you?”

“I haven’t had the luxury of remembering anything for seven decades, doll. Painful as it is. Makes it easier, I think.”

“No more mystery, there. When Zemo was trying to set me off, I was sorting through some precious times we had. Things we got away with,” she says, biting her lip.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know how we managed it. You spent the night with me! In a girl’s school–more than once!”

“Yes I did,” he says sheepishly, but he can’t help but laugh. He hasn’t had the same amount of clarity about the return of their shared memories–just that they’re still there, in his head, and that they’re accessible. But he does innately know how much he used to risk to be with her. The duality of two separate lives together, both so precious… It's heady. 

Sensing another rush of overwhelm, she kisses his forehead, giving him permission not to rush a walk down memory lane.

Y/n worries the pad of her pointer finger into the crease between his eyebrows until his scowl relents. “I can’t go in there with you,” she murmurs as a nurse comes around the corner with a data tablet in hand, most of her attention focused on an upright bed, which stands at an incline on a silvery base. A glass tube hovers above the bed, ready to slide down over the occupant. “But I’ll be here. Right next to you when they let me, even if you don’t know I’m here.”

“Doll,” Bucky sighs, “I appreciate everything you’re doing to help me relax but… I think it wouldn’t be such a bad idea for you to get looked at, too. Please–please don’t take that the wrong way–”

“Hush, дорогая. I will.”

“Good.” 

“I gotta take care of me if I wanna take care of you.”

“And… that’s something you want?”

“James Barnes,” she laughs, “I’m starting to think you don’t know me at all!”

He growls, wraps his feet behind her knees to keep her close. “I will know you if I lose all my faculties and can only relate by sense. I know your heart, doll–любимая. Oh–Do you like that?” The grin on her face says that she greatly enjoys the idea of being beloved. “I’m scared shitless. I like hearing you say it. Please tell me again.”

Her kiss this time lingers on his plea. “Hear me out: I want you. I like everything about you, even though you snore–see if Shuri can fix your deviated septum while she’s up there, will ya?” Bucky pokes her in the side in retaliation and she squirms in his grasp, but she persists with glee written all over her face. “I’ve always known that I’m complete because of you. How could that change? No–Jamie, ignore the memories of Belarus for a second. Do you realize how much our two weeks in that cabin meant to me? I’ve never had something so intimate as that time. That was you at your most raw, and I wanted two more weeks. It’s not the prospect of you being stable which makes me want you at my side. Okay? I want to look after you because if I don’t, my heart is gonna stop beating. I need you. In every version that may exist, and if there’s a new iteration of James Barnes on the horizon, I will happily greet him with open arms. But you’ll always be my Jamie, yeah? Forever. You’re Steve’s Bucky, but you’re my Jamie. Моя любовь.”

He doesn’t realize that his eyes are wet, too, until she’s cupping his jaw. “Jesus. What are you doing to me?” he chuckles.

She wrinkles her nose. “You’re a sap.”

“Yes, I am.”

“I like it.” 

“Best thing I ever did was dig you outta that snow,” Bucky says, pressing a lingering kiss to her palm.

“You’re loopy.” She nods to the approaching nurse. “Hi.”

“Hello, Ms. Y/L/n. It is good to see you again.” The nurse smiles warmly. “You are looking well. Mr. Barnes–are you amenable to an intravenous drip line? To rehydrate your body before entering cryostasis.”

“How are you with needles?” Y/n asks. 

“Rather not go near ‘em, I–if given the choice.”

“Not a problem,” the nurse says. “We can hydrate you the old fashioned way. Takes longer.”

“He has time.” Y/n clasps his shoulder. 

“Very well.” The nurse takes his vital stats (noting that his blood pressure is a little high), and gives a more thorough explanation about what he’s in for once he steps into that cryo-tube. It makes him flinch away from Y/n’s sympathetic touch. Thinking about being on ice again reminds him what usually comes after. It does help to sip on the water he’s handed, if for no other reason than shifting his focus.

When it’s time to proceed, the nurse invites Bucky to step forward. There’s nobody holding him at gunpoint, or threatening a zap to the temple; in fact, all of the nurses who float in and out of the room are pleasant, and they all seem to know his companion enough for a personal greeting. He may not trust anyone, but he trusts her. So.

She takes his hand and walks backwards, leading him to the chamber. “They’ll put you out before you ever feel the least bit cold,” she tells him, when he involuntarily shivers.

“Remind me how long,” he asks.

“Two days.”

“I can do that.”

“Yeah.” He steps up toe-to-toe with her so she has to crane her head back to look up at him. Those beautiful eyes crinkle. “A kiss for the road?” she asks. Bucky can’t bring himself to care about the nurses preparing the room. Just the sweet request.

They’ve shared many soft moments together. This is different. There is nothing to hide. Nobody is after them, neither of them are under any kind of despicable influence… They both are nearly delirious with exhaustion, and letting down from the trauma of nearly being separated again, and maybe that’s why kissing her feels new. With raw nerve endings exposed, and no walls up between them, it’s just sweet. A little needy when she teases the seam of his lips with her tongue, just enough to send a jolt of even more intimate moments through his mind and straight to the part of his body pressed against her hip. But he isn’t embarrassed. She’s everything. He takes little drags from her perfect mouth, and smiles at the involuntary whine at the back of her throat when he reluctantly pulls away.

“Two days,” he reminds her. She presses up on her toes and hugs him around the neck. Bucky lifts her off her feet with his arm around her waist. “Я тебя люблю,” he tells the smooth skin below her ear.

“Я тебя люблю.” 

***

“How’d he do?” Steve paces just outside the door to Bucky’s room, while Natasha sits crouched against the wall. They both smile at Y/n as she exits, but Steve still looks worried. 

Y/n reaches for his elbow. “He’s okay. Sent him off to sleep thinking about bookshelves.”

Cap chuckles. “What?”

“He’s set on the idea of building shelves, apparently that’s comforting,” she giggles. “You could’ve come in.”

“Nah. I’ll see him on the other side.” Steve says it flippantly for how serious his expression is. She squeezes his arm. They’re all nervous, especially Steve, but there’s no better place for Bucky to be. The fact that Cap didn’t ask to see Bucky before they put him under was a surprise. Her heart clenches for the sad look on his face.

“You okay, bee?” 

Y/n sighs. “I will be. I’m gonna sit with him for a while, but my stomach growled so loud in there–”

“I’m your man,” Steve says firmly. “Got any allergies I should be aware of?” He’s already backing away, ready to run his errand.

“No,” she says. “Bring whatever you can carry. Oh! Steve–coffee. Forget food. I want the good stuff.”

He pauses. “...what is that?”

“Biggest cup you can find, Steven.” Natasha hooks her arm through her friend’s and winks at the man. 

“Got it.” He practically skips off down the hallway to find the best coffee in Wakanda, looking very determined despite having a bandaged shoulder.

“You convince him to rest, yet? He’s gonna tear his stitches.”

Nat snorts. “I thought I did. Then I made the mistake of telling him that I love him, and he got a second wind.”

“Oh?” Y/n beams.

“Don’t. I can feel my coolness fleeing my body already.”

“No… still pretty badass, even if you are in love with a Boy Scout.”

The Black Widow groans. “Don’t remind me.” She lays her head on Y/n’s shoulder all the same. “They’re ready when you are.”

“Hmm. I need a little bit, first. Just to sit with him.”

“You didn’t tell him?”

Y/n shakes her head. “He would’ve worried. But. I need it. Get back to me, you know?”

“I put a bug in Ramonda’s ear about something, in case thinking about bookshelves isn’t comforting enough for your cryo-sleep.” 

“Yeah?”

“Once Bucky’s been through the deprogramming and officially cleared, of course. I may have suggested you just stay in Wakanda. Ramonda thinks that is a ‘fine idea’ and she’s making inquiries.”

Y/n blinks. “You’re talking… like. Living here.”

“In lieu of letting you two disappear. Seemed more stable. What do you think?”

Y/n turns in Natasha’s arms and hugs her tight. The ‘thanks’ is stuck in her throat, but Nat hums. “Thought you’d be happy about that.”

“I am. I’m…”

“You’re not meant to be a SHIELD pawn, bee. I know that the happiest you’ve ever been in your life was when you were in that cabin, with that man. I hope that this will help him feel strong, but it may take a while. You both enjoy solitude. You have friends here. And I’ll visit as often as I can.”

“Nat–I love you. I can’t believe you’d do this for us–”

“Oh please, I was a goner for you the second I saw your innocent face. I do love you, though.”

***

She sits for hours in a hospital room with only one other occupant, listening to the slow but steady beep of the machine monitoring his heart. Sipping coffee from a mug which could only be qualified as a vat, she stares out over the incredible capitol city, which thrums with the hum of vibranium tech. It is so strange. For so long it seemed like she couldn’t have anything which belonged to her. Now… there’s a yellow pack at her feet. Inside, three very good books and one which Bucky Barnes loathes. A wallet with a photograph of a young soldier who holds her heart. Clean, folded clothes which belong to the soldier in question. A knife from WWII. A journal… She sets the mug on the table, and pulls the red book from the pack. The pages are squished around a pen, marking the next fresh page–what?

I love her. If something happens to me, I need her to know.

The phrase is only written out once, but his scratchy handwriting is unmistakable. It’s steady. It’s a lucid thought, written sometime between when she found it and when they were found. Her eyes well up. She glances at the chamber, which is so iced over she can’t even make out his form, but… god, she thinks. I know, Jamie. 

She finishes the rest of her coffee so quickly that it burns her throat a bit, but she taps out Shuri’s code on the comm tablet.

“Hey,” her friend answers on the first ring.

“I need you to make something for Bucky. Something he can have once he’s healed.”

“Ooh. Tell me.”

“How much do you know about bionic limbs?”

The End.

Epilogue

***

Thank you so much for reading! :)

tag list: @peterhollandkait @abitgryffindorky @hogwartsahist0ry @idgafiamallthefandoms @mysticatto @im-just-star-dust @light-through-stained-glass @ginger-swag-rapunzel @sanguineterrain @honeywithemoney @nahthanks @lalalalokii @themorningsunshine @mumbles411 @slutforsexyseabass

kate’s masterlist - my bucky barnes masterlist

[alpacaparkaseok]

The Pact - Date #3

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

Word Count: 7.7k

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

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

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

Date #3

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

Nope. Not one bit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He probably knew it, too.

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

Enjoy it you shall.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, you know what they say.”

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

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

Indeed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung and Jimin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll make note of that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right, you’ll spill on it.”

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

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

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

“Mmm.”

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

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

“Yah, just drive.”

“I am!”

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

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

“We’re going to Anyang?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wanderers & Travelers

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh! You’re here!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

You blink, unprepared for the genuine compliment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Breathing has become impossible at this point.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Namjoon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ˆˆˆˆ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think not!”

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. “I have a thinking face?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, and long movies-”

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

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

“Shhh, I’m trying to watch this.”

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

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

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

“Hey, can you pick me up now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hyung...what-”

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

Oh, he’s in for it tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And worse yet, what’s yet to come.

main masterlist

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

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[definitelynotkatesblog]

Beg ∣ Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

A/N: Hi, friends! This is my first time writing a fanfic piece, so of course it had to be for my love, Dr. Spencer Reid! This literally started out as a blurb in the notes app in my phone of maybe.... one line of dialogue?

Also, I am ready and willing to receive feedback! Please enjoy! 

If this opening scene was in a movie, the opening lines of Me & Mr. Jones by Amy Winehouse would be playing.

Nobody stands

In between me and my man

Me and Mr. Jones

(Me and Mr. Jones)

What kind of fuckery is this?

Category: Smut (and some cuteness at the end)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Cursing, Dom!Spencer, PostPrison!Spencer, bondage, unprotected penetrative sex, con/non con, safe word mention (not used, just mentioned), mention of overstimulation, orgasm denial, forced orgasms, indication of sub-drop? (then after care).

Word count: 3.0k 

Prison had changed Spencer. Obviously. Your once timid, tightly wound, germaphobe genius was now eerily patient, quicker to react, and able to eat in group settings with less hesitation. He was also more dominant with you in and out of the bedroom- just more assertive in general. Even his coworkers at the BAU mentioned his demeanor had changed when working on cases.

You had assumed it was due to him not feeling in control for those months he was property of the prison, and needing to exert his control in other aspects once he could eat and sleep on his own schedule. 

Before Spencer had gone away, your sex life was great- he was always sweet and attentive but rough when he needed to be. It was a mirror of his personality. 

Though you’d never know the extent of what happened in those concrete walls- and you’d never actually say this to Spencer- you weren’t terribly upset about the changes that resulted in the man who came out on the other end.

This man was more primally need-driven, more calloused and hungry than the Spencer you knew before. His words became fewer while his actions spoke volumes. He devoured you like you were his last meal on earth every time his hands were on you, like he was afraid this time might be the last time you two would be together. 

 His hands were more strong and confident with his touches, his mouth and movements more sure. Gone were the hesitant questions asked by fingers skimmed lightly over skin, and here to stay were imprints left from sure grips, unafraid to show signs of possession. 

His hunger and drive, these new deeper and darker urges had also allowed you to come out of your sex-shell. You weren’t afraid to ask for things that you feared my have intimidated Spencer before. There wasn’t anything you couldn’t ask for and nothing he wouldn’t do to you, for you. Did it make sense to trust him more now that he’d gone to prison?

You knew his newfound desires could be a sense of shame for him, but you wouldn’t let them be. If anything, you wanted him to be the one he explored them with more than anything. 

You rose to the challenge and arrived on the other side victorious- usually in a sweaty heap of bliss.

******

Murder in your eyes, you watched him cross the room to fasten your wrist in the restraint dangling from the bedpost. 

Once he was satisfied you wouldn’t be able to move from your slightly spread eagle position, he rounded the corner back to the foot of the bed, leaning forward to place his palms on the soft duvet, just staring. 

“Comfortable?” he asked nonchalantly, like he was asking about the fucking weather. 

You tried to lunge forward, but the restraints at your wrists quickly snapped you back, reminding you of what a not great idea that was. The fabric stuffed in your mouth as a makeshift gag caught most of the profanities you spat at him and turned them into nonsense. 

He chuckled and shook his head, “Glad to hear it.”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the rise and fall of your chest quickening as you realized the gravity of the situation- you really couldn’t get out of these restraints. And you really weren’t sure if you wanted to. 

“Do you know why I like when you’re tied up?”

Attempting to keep your face as stoic as possible, you offered no reaction and turned your head away from him, opting to look at the artwork on the wall instead. 

“Because when you’re tied up, you can’t get in my way of taking what I want.” His voice was level and low, speaking matter of factly. 

At this statement, you couldn’t help but throw him an incredulous look and an over-the-top eye roll.  

“And you can’t stop me from fucking you and making you cum as many times as it takes to break you,” he continued. 

The idea of that kind of delirious pleasure instantly caused a pool of heat to flood your lower belly, spreading through your veins. 

He made his way around to the side of the bed, watching your face with a thoughtful expression. 

His hand caressed the side of your face, cupping your cheek before forming a strong grip on your jaw. You tried keeping your face turned away, but were quickly humbled by the sharp turn of his wrist. 

Your eyes searched his, trying to determine how much truth there was in his statements. 

“Do you remember your safe words?” he asked softly. 

You nod, flexing your wrists against their restraints, and mumble around the fabric in your mouth. “Yeyow ng wed” you sighed, feigning annoyance. 

“Good. And if your mouth is full?” he prompted. 

You rolled your eyes, crossing your fingers for ‘yellow’ and snapping them for ‘red’. 

He hummed and left his position at your side and returned to the foot of the bed, content with your answers.

He crawled up on the bed and pulled your legs towards opposite sides of the bed with enough room between them for him to sit on his knees. 

You watched as he brought a hitachi wand from behind his back and place it in your line of sight. Your eyes narrowed, trying to unravel his plan. 

Suddenly his words made a lot more sense- You can’t get in the way. Make you cum as many times as I want. 

His finger traced the line between your clit and quickly dampening entrance, teasing with the lightest amount of pressure.

Your hips involuntarily made almost indiscernible movements to increase the friction, but with each movement, he would stop his ministrations and scold you with a ‘tsk tsk’.

His thumb found its way to your clit, drawing slow languid circles through the thin fabric. You tried your best to appear unbothered, but the fabric in your mouth wasn’t doing enough to stifle the whimpers slipping from your throat. 

“I bet if I checked right now, you’d be a wet fucking mess. Is that right?”

Even though you’d been betrayed by your body, you opted to test your luck with shaking your head no. 

“Hmmmm, see, I don’t think that’s quite right.”

His hands found their way to the edges of your panties and dragged them down your hips, thighs, knees and eventually off your body. 

Suddenly feeling very exposed, you pressed your knees together in an attempt to salvage your remaining dignity- well, what was left, after being bound to a fucking bed. 

He shook his head and placed a hand on each knee and forced them apart, staring at the apex of your thighs. His tongue poked out and made a quick sweep of his lower lip.

You knew, you just fucking knew you were in fact a wet mess, despite your best efforts to resist being turned on by the nonchalant, condescending, cocky fucking asshole he was being. 

He half smiled and chuckled, looking back up at your face. 

“Oh baby, was I right.” With that, he took a single finger and collected evidence of your arousal and brought it up to your eye level as proof. 

Without breaking eye contact, he popped the finger into his mouth, making a show of swirling his tongue around it, hollowing his cheeks, and slowly pulling it out of his mouth with a slight moan. 

Your eyes narrowed, a mixture of humiliation and raw attraction driving a fire to ignite and course through your veins. 

“God, you taste so fucking good.” he said slowly, emphasizing each word. 

Quickly returning his hand between your thighs, he dipped inside for a moment with one finger before adding another. 

The intrusion was dreadfully delicious, your hips bucking in an attempt to ride his fingers. An involuntary moan escaped your throat, muffled by the gag. 

Spencer started lazily thrusting into you, curling his fingers to meet just the right spot every time. The slow pace was agonizing- your head falling back, begging the gods above for him to grant you some sort of mercy. 

 Your head fell forward with a drawn out groan. Every time you tried to created more speed or friction, he would slow down or stop completely. 

You let out a frustrated whine, knitting your brows together to convey your displeasure with the pace he’d chosen.

Without warning, Spencer ’s fingers started plunging into you at a brutal pace, eliciting a surprised squeak and heavy pants from your lips. 

The muscles in your core tightened, your wrists pulling against the restraints as the breathy pants became moans of anticipation. 

The slow burn in your core continued to build, rushing to beat him before he decided to stop again.Your walls began convulsing around his fingers, indicating your impending orgasm.

Then, just as quickly as his fingers were there, they weren’t. Your eyes shot open, immediately searching for his. 

“Oh, did you think I was going to let you cum that easily?”

If looks could kill, he’d be one dead motherfucker. 

“I don’t think you deserve to cum yet, baby. I don’t think you want it bad enough”

Spencer’s other hand came to rest just above your mound, applying pressure on your lower belly while his thumb started circling your clit once more.

Between the deep pressure, stimulation on your clit and his relentless fingers fucking you blind, you were about to explode. Silent sobs left your chest, no air in your lungs made for a hard time breathing.

“I want to hear you beg me to fuck you” he said, his voice low and dark.

Reaching up, he removed the fabric from your mouth, tossing it to the side. 

“Beg.” 

“Fuck you,” you spat. Knuckle deep or not, there was no way you were giving in to him.

Arching an eyebrow he shook his head, reaching to his side, pulling something white into the space between his knees.

Your eyes widened at the hitachi wand in front of him, then darted to his face in an attempt to find any indication of his intention.

He climbed off the bed to remove his pajama pants. From your compromised position you had the perfect eye line to watch his dick strain against the waistband of his pants before springing free. 

Your bottom lip found itself between your teeth as a means of controlling the drool pooling in your mouth. Spencer’s laugh drew your eyes up his body until your eyes met. 

Pumping his fist a few times over his already hard cock, he climbed back onto the bed and towards you, gathering some of your wetness with the tip of his cock before positioning himself to enter you. 

Before he moved, a wicked grin flashed across his face as he reached for the wand and turned it on to its first setting, pressing it gently to the top of the hood of your clit. The introduction of the direct stimulation on your clit made every muscle in your body tense, white hot adrenaline coursing through your veins.

His thumb guided him to realign with your entrance, and he wasted no time with teasing. He quickly sheathed himself inside of you, now pressing the wand’s vibrations head deeper into your folds. 

God you wanted to fucking scream, but all that came out was a whorish moan. Your hands instinctively made a move to remove the source of the overstimulation, but were quickly reminded that wouldn’t be possible by the strain against your wrists. 

Your walls tightened around him, encouraging him to bottom out with each thrust. His aggression and moans mixed with curses let you know he was thoroughly enjoying himself. 

“Should I let you cum too?” 

His relentless thrusts did not show signs of slowing, and his clenched jaw and flared nostrils made him look, well... criminal. 

A quick flick of his wrist caused the wand to hit a sweet spot- eliciting a squeal. He pressed the buzzing head harder against the spot, wiggling it ever so slightly. Your hands formed fists as your head thrashed to the side, craning your neck- your breath hitched and came in short, shallow breaths as your body prepared to be pushed over the edge into bliss. 

That was, until Spencer removed the wand from its promising position, tossing it onto the bed beside your leg. The sound of buzzing against the sheets was dull in the background as your head swam at the loss.

In a swift motion, his arms hooked under your knees and pulled your bottom closer to the edge of the bed as far as your wrist restraints would let you. A surprised squeak left your lips as his hands positioned your ankles by his ears. 

This new position allowed him deeper access, hitting your cervix with each thrust. This new sensation caused your head to fall back against the pillow and eyes to squeeze shut. 

Quickly grabbing the wand from beside him, he matched the movement of the wand with the patterns of his thrusts, making it difficult to tell where the pleasure started and ended.

“Please please please I want to so bad,” you begged, “Oh my god, please!”

“Hmmm, want to or need to?” he asked quickly, chasing his own orgasm.  

“FUCK, need! I need to! Please I need to cum, please Spencer!”

“Cum.” It was one word, but enough to be your undoing. 

Your walls clenched around him as your hips buckled against the head of the wand. 

Your heels dug into his shoulders beneath you, arching your back off the sheets as he buried himself deeper into you. 

Air burned your lungs as they tried to force enough oxygen in between pants, a moan ripping the rest of the air from your chest. The waves crashed into you, over and over making up for lost time. 

Fire raced through your veins, curling your toes and causing your hands to form shaking fists in their tethered positions. You cried out senselessly for him to stop. 

“Good girl,” he cooed. “One more.”

You shook your head vigorously, unable to even able to wrap your head around cumming again.

“Yes,” he said. There was no room or invitation for argument. 

Voiceless pants left your throat, your mouth dry from gasping for air.

Your eyes begged Spencer to give you just a moment to breathe, which he promptly ignored. 

Setting the wand to its next highest setting, Spencer’s thrusts found a faster pace. 

His name came out between mangled moans and broken sobs. 

“Cum for me baby, come on,” he forced out between clenched teeth. You knew he had to be close too.

Your second orgasm tacked on to the tail end of the first and possessed your body with more power than you thought possible. The vibrations racked through your body leaving flames in its wake until you couldn’t register your body as your own anymore.

The feeling of Spencer throbbing inside of you, emptying himself only added to the pleasure, your walls continuing to milk him. 

Involuntary sobs escaped your lips as you came down, Spencer’s thrusts slowing, the wand returned to its lowest setting-allowing you to ride the rest of your wave down to planet Earth. 

Watching your chest heave, gasping for more air, he removed the wand from your clit and slowly withdrew himself from you.

Sweat glistened on your forehead, your cheeks flushed and hair disheveled, now dripping a mixture of your releases.  

“God you’re so fucking beautiful” he murmured, kissing the inside of your calf before gently removing your ankles from his shoulders and placing them on the bed. 

After a few moments, an overwhelming wave of emotion crashed over your body causing tears to spring to your eyes. Your lip quivered, but you bit it between your teeth in an attempt to collect yourself. 

“Shh shh shh,” he said, quickly undoing the restraints at your wrists and pulling a blanket from the foot of the bed around you. He sat on the bed and pulled you into his chest, his legs around your body with your legs thrown over one of his, gently rocking the both of you. 

“You did so good, baby. So good,” he said kissing the top of your head. 

You didn’t have any witty or snarky remarks for him. The hot tears slid down your cheeks as you pulled the edges of the blanket tighter around your body. 

His hand rubbed big, soothing circles into your back while he tucked your head under his chin. 

You pushed the blanket off your shoulders, needing to be closer to him than you currently were. He watched you turn and straddle his waist, wrapping your legs around his torso and your arms around his neck- grabbing your opposite elbows to bury your face in his neck. 

He let you settle before wrapping his arms around your back, hugging you closer to his chest. 

“I’m so proud of you,” he said matter of factly between dropping kisses on the top of your head. 

You hummed in response, too tired for real words. 

He held you for a few more minutes, rubbing your back with small circles and offering praise. 

“Do you want to take a now bath, baby?”

You grumbled a sound of protest into his neck and felt his body shake with a laugh. 

You always wanted to take a bath, baths with Spencer were your favorite thing. But at this moment you were blissfully content and unwilling to move. 

He pulled you two apart for a moment to look at your face. Brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear, he inspected your face for any residual tears.

 Your eyes met his and found a softness in his eyes you didn’t think was possible from the man who had just teased, edged and fucked you so thoroughly. 

“Five more minutes,” he conceded, kissing your forehead. 

You nodded and nestled back into your spot, pressing your lips into the side of his neck.

———

Tell me all about it!

[youarejesting]

Wild Space

Pairing: Alien!Jimin x Reader Beta: @jung-hoseok-s-airplane​​ Genre: Romance, Angst, Fluff, SFW Rating: 16+ (slight mature themes implied something) Words: 4.6k

Summary: You are on an expedition to explore a new world, the one you encounter is so beautiful and unique but you find the real beauty in its people. Though they are a little different you feel yourself falling in love with culture, their way of life and their cute ears and tails.

“This is unit one we have finally finished docking and are now beginning assembly and exploration of planet B52. It seems this planet's flora are similar to that of earth, none have started to move or eat us which is a bonus.” It took a whole day to land the station so you weren’t as excited to be here as you had previously been. Your team leader cleared their throat disapprovingly which earned him a rolling of your eyes. “I mean none of the participants within the exploration have been consumed to date.”

The wording though correct probably didn’t need to be said with the snobbish tone, but you were feeling particularly sassy. Wanting to get away for a while after being cooped up in the station you picked up your bag full of supplies and headed out.

The air was fresh like dizzyingly so, the place was green and rich with life and you thought if the earth needed time to rejuvenate then this could be the new substitute in that time. But the colours were odd, it really was a new world. The green grass had a pink tinge to it, the oceans were mauve. But it was all deemed safe perfectly so. We humans are smarter and have figured out how to promote the world's health and well-being.

“The temperatures are stable and the solar flares are filtered by the Ozone layers.” Watching one of the two suns ‘set’ was relieving, sure it wasn’t the fore sun but it did cool the air significantly. The fore sun was practically the same distance between earth and our sun with a slight more reddish tone than our bright yellow one. But in this solar system there was a dwarf sun well really it is just a burning planet but it orbits the sun so close, burning just the same but in a vibrant blue. No one could get close enough to test the elements on the dwarf sun that made it burn that colour but it was beautiful.

As one of the suns moved behind the other a beautiful pinkish haze took over the planet giving it a hazy romantic feel. Talk about rose coloured glasses. This transition revealed the neighbouring planet of B52 a large celestial body with rings which in the glow of the afternoon sun were in shades of pink and purple and the planet was a deep lavender.

The astrologists and physicians had both determined that the two planets moved together in harmony and both planets were deemed liveable but they were never going to collide as they equal gravity, each pulling the other at the same intensity. The sky was never the typical sky blue but always a haze of purple, at its lightest it was a soft lilac and at its darkest the sky was a deep byzantium.

Because of this the water on the planet reflected the purple tones and the clearest waters were a mauve but the darkest were a heavy plum. “The fauna is also similar to that of the earth with a few abnormal features, here and there.” You looked upon a small group of tiny animals; they walked on all fours and were fluffy somewhere between a hamster and a cat. They were predominantly ears and eyes, which is probably how they found you, turning and freezing. Big round orbs looking shiny and innocent and with a squeak they were gone.

Being a linguist you didn’t really have anything to do, the crew usually just gave you odd jobs and as of late that job was completing the reports. You were exploring and recording your observations while the others set up the station and greenhouse. The sooner one can grow their own foods the better off for all of you.

You followed what almost looked like a tiny dinosaur that walked slowly to a nearby tree and began eating berries. You had decided you would be useful and started sketching what you see whilst moving about. The ferns moved in the gentle breeze and an almost odd and yet sweet floral scent enveloped you. A river on your left trickling quiet quickly and in the distance you thought you could hear a waterfall.

From the river emerged what looked like an axolotl each foot pulling it onto the red toned grass and shook itself like a dog and you realized it was fluffy. This caused you to giggle, you began drawing the animal while singing softly. When you were done you continued reporting.

In the middle of your ramblings about the health of the planet and such, you heard a rustle behind you. It was odd because when you turned there was nothing there. You were out of earshot so you dropped your professional jargon.

“There seem to be no immediate signs of danger but the crew is working as per protocol for the safety of the team.”

You watched as a flying mouse landed in a tree squeaking and chewing at some sort of fruit it gathered. It was very much the bumble bee dilemma wings too small for the size of its body. It was colourful though like a rainbow lorikeet, it’s tail multicoloured.

“No sign of intelligent life, so far-”

Another rustle behind you accompanied by heavy breathing, you tried to glance around at whatever it was. Looking as far as you could out of your peripheral vision the only feature you caught was a long red tail swishing low, and whatever it was walked on all four legs. You tried to grab your radio but you heard a low rumble from the animal in question. The thing seemed to change shape and moved until it was right behind you mirroring your posture on two legs, its nose pressed to the back of your neck sniffing.

The figure moved around you and you saw it completely. A man, well mostly. He was muscular and lean, he had claw-like nails and teeth that were sharper than a human. On the top of his head were two ears that were peaked and alert. His tail puffed and he growled. In fear of this strange new life especially the fear of being killed caused a tear to roll down your cheek, he circled around you faster and breathed you in.

You stood still as he stepped behind you once more and seemed to brush past your ponytail; it must have startled him as he pulled it firmly, causing you to fall back. He growled at your sudden movement and jumped on top of you baring his teeth over your neck. Unmoving once more you watched him slowly circle your form, he sniffed you here and there licking the side of your boot and you were thankful for the fact he had some sort of fabric over the lower half of his body so you didn’t see anything unnecessary.

His eyes were dark, his hair a vibrant red as were his ears and tail; he was mixed in appearance. You couldn’t determine whether he was canine or feline, he had features from both sides.

Sniffing he nudged your arm burying his nose against the underarm of your shirt. You knew you were sweaty, it’s not like deodorant was a priority on a space trip there was some but not enough to last a whole expedition. And if you know anything about the animal kingdom, smell was what they used to identify each other.

He growled circling you again before curling up beside you and placing his head on your chest watching you as his eyes drifted shut with a heavy sigh. He was beautiful, he reminded you of the exotic people in the avatar movie where those blue aliens were so tall and human-like but just slightly off. He wasn’t blue, but he was very naturally beautiful.

After an hour or two of trying to get out from underneath him you gave up entirely. At another point you accidentally started patting the young man’s head forgetting he was not a sweet domesticated animal despite the ears and tail.

As the fore sun began to set over you, the cold breeze began seeping into your skin and shivers bloomed from within you. The action seemed to wake him, eyes widening as he launched himself away. Backing away, you shared equal expressions of fear. Trying not to move, wanting to appear harmless, he was also unwilling to move. Eyes searching the area for any danger, he saw you shiver again curling up with a small whimper. He looked around calmer as the minutes passed. He said something softly and you raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know what you said?” you whispered, blinking he made a face. Very slowly you sat up reaching into your pocket to retrieve an apple. He watched you curiously as you took a bite and proceeded to sniff the air. Holding out the apple, he braved getting a little closer to examine what you were eating. He gave it a lick and again before taking a bite.

“What are you?” You asked, he watched you cautiously talking back in his strange language. Clueless to what he was saying you took your time repeating his words and he blinked almost shocked. He sniffed your pocket which you had left unzipped to retrieve the apple and he sniffed getting dangerously close to areas he shouldn’t but he pointed and spoke in his funny language.

“What’s in my pocket?” you pointed at the pocket and he pointed again at the pocket.

You pulled out dehydrated meat and held it up, “Meat” he snatched it sniffing and eating it quickly before reaching into your pocket grabbing the rest. He also found some berries they were almost like ones he was used to but these were so unique.

You sat there as he ate, you tried to talk to him but he was busy eating. Stomach growling signaling dinner time and you looked at the empty bag and frowned.

He noticed the frown of your face and looked at the empty food bag. He held it in his hand and took your hand in his, his claws brushing your skin but not causing you any harm. He pulled you through the woods and turned back as you tripped and stumbled your gait generally slower than his.

You passed a beautiful purple waterfall and the water as it fell reflected a purple glow on the rocks around them and as it splashed a mist of purple sprinkled the air and a typical rainbow prism appeared. You looked down, noticing you were walking on a trail. The flowers on either side were a gorgeous blue that in the shade of some trees seemed bioluminescent. He didn’t seem impressed by your abilities or in this case lack of, and deciding to pick you up over his shoulder and run. He was also unaffected by your added weight, running as he normally would.

He arrived at a small cave, the rock was metallic and each piece reflecting beautifully in the light of the setting sun. He placed you on your feet and you walked towards the stone and touched it brushing your fingers over the smooth arch entrance way.

You knew he must have carved and smoothed this himself, he watched you curiously as you ran your hand along something at the top it almost looked like a form of writing and you traced it slowly and turned to him pointing.

“Jimin,” he said and he patted his chest referring to himself.

“Jimin,” you pointed at the sign and then turned to him stepping closer and placing your hand on his chest over his rapidly beating heart. “Jimin.”

He gave a strange gesture with his hand but his eyes seemed light and his smile told you, you were correct. You slowly and gently took his hand placing it on your chest so he could feel your heartbeat.

“Y/n,” you breathed and his eyes searched yours. You repeated your hand on his chest and said his name before placing it back onto yours “Y/n.”

“Y/n,” he said, his mouth forming the name with a heavy accent.

The moment was broken as voices could be heard talking in the strange language and he pushed you inside the cave walking you deep inside and sat you on something soft. He said something sternly gesturing to the ground with his palm and you nodded as he ran back out.

He was asking you to stay, his body language was pretty clear. And you pulled out your rechargeable lamp, turning it over to turn the large dial underneath. With a satisfied click it turned on, lighting up the space.

With the light you could see every little detail and couldn’t help getting up and exploring. There was an area with stacked wood and sticks and beside it a pit with some ashes and coals in it and you understood it was a fireplace.

Above the fireplace was a hole in the cave again it was man made and impressed you greatly. The craftsmanship of how he made his house and a chimney and everything made you proud.

There were shelves with items wrapped in big leaves and a pile of the strange fabric he wore.

You looked to where he had sat you, it looked like a bed filled with soft iridescent furs. These animals must be magnificent.

You hung the lamp from a rock, your stomach rumbling again. If you remembered correctly there was a small selection of foil sealed food in your backpack.

Shrugging off your backpack you looked to the fire pit, stacking wood you took out your flint and started a fire. It was teal, the flames looking similar to the northern lights. You had a small pot that looked like a metal cereal bowl and you poured the contents into the pot and added some water.

It was a stew and you mixed it up, you didn’t want to seem selfish so you made sure to serve him some in the little metal dish. Hearing footsteps, he entered the cafe sniffing the air curiously.

“Jimin!” You smiled and he lowered his head with a smile. He had started blushing as he placed down handfuls of fruit. You handed him the plate and he watched you eat mimicking the way you used a spoon. He followed your lead scooping the food and blowing on it gently before he put it in his mouth. He hummed his tail flicking back and forth rapidly in excitement at the flavour.

You grew tired and it was late, you wanted to return but you couldn’t and you knew that. Not only because you didn’t know your way back but he seemed to not want anyone to see you. You instead tried to talk to him some more pointing at things and repeating what he would say and he realized you were trying to learn the language of his people.

He helped you and you were able to process so much. The whole reason you were on the trip was for this. You were a linguist and you wanted to learn and decipher their language. You noticed so many things about their language.

You pointed at the soft fur area and he said something that sounded complicated and you tried to say it. His laughter was like soft bells and you tried again, he continued laughing and he kept saying it until he shook his hand. You understood this gesture to mean yes.

He was teaching you so much, you had filled at least five pages of your notebook with new words and information you had learned about him. After an hour or two you had almost figured out the sentence structure and he was amazed.

He was preparing fruit and telling you what you assumed were their names as he handed them to you. He was so sweet, smiling and talking to you, while you were drawing him and his beautiful features.

He turned away looking through the basket of fruit while you packed up and walked over to the furs and laid down curling up. They were soft like silk but warm. You blamed the strict sleep schedule you all had to maintain on the expedition for your inability to stay awake. The crackling embers of the teal fire lulling you to sleep.

You dreamt of B52, but you didn’t dream of it colonised, you dreamt of it exactly how it was, you moved through the soft two toned grass and waded through the mauve waterfall playing when Jimin called your name. He smiled brushing your hair from your face and gently rubbing your ears affectionately.

They weren’t normal human ears, they were like his and you looked down to see his tail had hooked around yours and he leaned in to press his lips to yours when you woke.

Laying in the furs Jimin's body pressed against your back and his arm around you buried in the Furs. Standing you wanted to leave but you knew you couldn't leave without a trace. So you left behind the drawing of him concentrating looking down while he cut fruit.

Sneaking out you used your tracking device to not only mark this location but to also navigate your way back to the station following the trail of flowers until you arrived back.

“Where the hell have you been?” The leader hissed

“I was making friends with the locals,” You said, reaching for your backpack for your notebook.to show them what you had learnt.

“Haha, you are on cleaning duty for a week,” The captain said and you frowned and headed inside. “Grab a shovel, you are turning soil today.”

Ignoring him you walked to the small area inside the green house and began shoveling.

“Seriously though I met them, well one of them, he was super nice.” You tried to explain to your friend but she laughed looking at you like you were crazy.

“Did you eat something you shouldn’t have, breathed in pollen from a poisonous flower?” She turned to look at you “Bitten by a space tick, how many fingers am I holding up?”

“I am perfectly sane Namsoon and I am telling the truth,” You breathed, “It was cool they have their own language and they look like us except they have different ears and get this they have tails.”

“That sounds gross,” she blanched at the thought, “like a rat.”

“No, they are beautiful,” you tried to defend him.

“I think you should go rest today, you can help tomorrow” Namsoon took your shovel and turned away and you sighed and headed back to the station. On your way through the corridors to your chambers you passed the kitchen. Pausing in the hall, a big grin spread across your face, you turned around taking out your day’s rations and a small digital camera for photos of the planet turned back to the station entrance. Slipping into the woods wanting to find Jimin.

You arrived at his cave, thanking your forward thinking for marking the location on your navigation device. Entering it was quiet and he wasn’t there, you sat on his bed lying down staring at the roof.

You were working on the vocabulary when he came back in growling. He pounced on you his ears and tail puffed and teeth bared. He froze when he noticed it was you again and you were wide-eyed staring at him.

“Annyeong haseyo.” He smiled down at you, trapped below him, he was drenched and his hair was dripping water onto your face.

“Annyeong haseyo,” you grinned back, he beamed, flicking his hand in approval and he sniffed you, you spoke in english even though you knew he couldn’t understand “I went back to the station, does it smell weird?”

His nose tickled your neck and he paused catching a familiar scent and traveling down your body. You blushed as he got awfully close to certain private areas but he detoured to the pants pocket and tried to get the Jerky from your pocket.

“Meat,” he said and he used his claws but it not only ripped the pocket open but also scratched your leg causing you to call out in pain. He snatched the meat and was chewing happily. You frowned seeing the blood stain your light grey pants.

Opening your backpack and pulling out your little first aid kit. Trying to calm your heart, you knew he didn’t mean it but it scared you how wild he was.

You pulled the side of your pants down to reveal the area he had clawed on your thigh and you hissed at the sight. He turned confused by your noise and saw the cut, his smile fell and he lowered his head watching you.

He got closer looking at the wound and then at his hands, Nose scrunching at the smell of the paste you put on the wound. He stormed out of the cave, you continued to clean and dress the wound, you readjusted your pants and took a needle and thread and began sewing your pant leg. He came back with some fruits and he hung his head carrying washed fruit which he cut and gave to you.

It wasn’t easy to sneak away from the station, but you did almost every day to meet with him. You were so good at his language now you were able to hold conversations with him but he still had to explain a lot of things as best he could.

He liked it when you sang or played music and he would move around the cave with a smile. The two of you went to see the silky iridescent almost cow like creatures. He took you around showing you different flowers your favourite had to be one where he pulled you inside and sat on the leaf with you and the flower curled up around you both and inside it was like a galaxy all spotted with tiny little glowing creatures. They were completely harmless but reminded you of glow worms. He had you to try different foods. It was heaven not eating the bland genetically modified food everyday. That is until he gave you a particular fruit that made you super itchy, you decided to take an antihistamine from your first aid kit and he apologized and the two of you got back to Jimin’s favorite which was a sour fruit.

He took you swimming at the mauve waterfall and you were splashing one another and playing. He got scared when you were underwater for a long time. Diving under the water he grasped you by the waist and swam you up and called for you. “Y/n, gwaenchanha ni?”

He pulled you against the rocks holding you there with his hand on your waist and took your face with his other hand, his eyes burning in worry. You placed one hand over his leaning your cheek into his touch, “Nan gwaenchanha.”

He sighed in relief pressing his forehead to yours and looking down into your eyes. He stole your breath away, you licked your lips trying to keep them from going dry and he noticed the action licking his own. He leaned in slightly and you elongated your torso trying to bring yourself closer to him, his pupils dilated wide.

You felt his lip just touch yours, the two of you hadn’t kissed yet before his ears turned and pulled away grabbing you and pulling you through the water. He pushed you behind the waterfall and pressed his palm to your mouth and made the no gesture with his hand before slipping away.

There was a small group of them and they played and spoke, you watched them interact. They were no different from playful boys or puppies except they were fully grown men. Time passed and he finally got them to leave but you were freezing and wet.

Jimin grabbed you from the water and looked at you all blue and shivering. He picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder and raced back to his cave where he started the fire. He turned to see you had removed your clothes and found a spare shirt from your bag you curled up in the furs. He too changed out of sight and laid behind you trying to warm you with his body heat.

It was sweet he wasn’t trying to do anything but keep you warm, however, you knew how it must have looked to the young man who walked in, the deep growl traveling through the cave. Making you stiffen and he sat up and growled back his body crawling over yours protectively and they began arguing. You spoke to him slowly and he looked alarmed that you understood him.

He told you, to leave before you two were caught and someone was hurt. Jimin growled saying he didn’t want you to leave and at that moment you thought maybe he felt the same way as you. With a sigh Jimin agreed to return you in the morning and Taehyung nodded thankful for his defeat before he told you both he would guard the place.

Jimin explained the village were aware of the new people and were sceptical, he also said it was a festival tonight and everyone was in good spirits visiting neighbours. You leaned in pecking his lips with yours and grinning. “Gamsahabnida.”

He sat up looking at his pupils wide with affection.

You woke early and took your sketchbook and the camera. You went to leave and Jimin grabbed your hand a sad look on his face and pressed his hand to your chest. “Y/n. I love Y/n,” he said, he hadn’t remembered much from your lessons of your own language but this phrase was one he practiced well. You asked him to let his leader meet with you and your leader for a discussion, promising your men would come without weapons laughing about how weak your kind were compared.

You passed Taehyung and he sniffed you and began scolding Jimin all you understood was the words bed and you blushed realizing he knew more than you thought. You said goodbye to Taehyung and ran off to the ship.

You showed the captain the pictures and the drawings and explained how they lived peacefully but had things and resources we didn’t. “Jimin will meet me this afternoon and I would like you to meet him with me alone and without a weapon, if you bring a weapon I will actually kill you myself.

Another meeting came to a successful end and you smiled walking over to Taehyung, Jimin, and Namsoon who showed them both videos of earth, every meeting she would show them another video and they were amazed.

“Jimin-ssi,” you called and he turned beaming his ears perking up and tail swishing back and forth he began sniffing your neck and giving an almost purr. It was still unclear if they had more canine or feline features but you didn’t care.

“Why is it everytime you two meet he becomes more and more adorable, doting on you?”

“The pregnancy pheromones?” Namjoon said in english to Namsoon his nose and tail twitching. He learnt English quickly and you exchanged languages and linguistics with each other and each took your time teaching them each other's language. You blushed as Jungkook grinned patting your swollen stomach and handed you a big woven leaf basket full of berries. He was a sweet kid and looked up to Jimin. “We are very domestic people, when one of our own is pregnant we protect them?”

If you enjoyed this story don’t forget to Like | Share so others can enjoy it too. PLease see my [Masterlist] for more of my work.

[luzswonderland]

Thoughts on “Young Blood, Old Souls”

So, we’re finally here, the season finale. This season went by so fast and yet so much has happened to these characters. I won’t be making one of these for a while, so I’ll just get into it.

I like the little recap we get in the beginning of the episode about Emperor Belos and the Boiling Isles. It really sets the tone for the episode.

Luz has really improved her upper body strength since the beginning of the series. From lifting Amity during Grom and at end of the Grudgby match to now holding giant axes.

“My weak nerd arms!”-Psshh. Yeah right 😄

“Me and Eda don’t always see eye to eye, but I do consider her family.”-Aww King 😢

I really want a backstory on how these two met so much

I thought about it, but I didn’t expect Emperor Belos to have an interest for the human world. I wonder what his endgame is?

“But you... promised me.”- I knew it. I knew she was going to get owned. The dumbass deserved it. It’s just sad that Eda has to pay the price because of her decisions.

Lilith is not my favorite person right now 😐

The fact that Eda is being petrified for not joining a coven and doing “wild magic” is pretty wild. Jail time I get but turning someone to stone is too harsh. Guess that’s how Belos has stayed in power for so long.

“Lilith. She cursed Eda. She captured her own sister. She is the worst.”-That’s right Luz, get mad, get angry!😠

Love how Luz and King get sent to the Conformatorium. Reminds of a running gag that appeared in some cartoons I used to watch back in the day. 😂

“You let the human escape, and you drew her a map?”-These are some of the worst guards ever 🤣 LMAO

Wow! Luz is a monster. She’s grown so much. We love to see it. 👏

Eda and Luz’s conversation was great. You can tell this is a bond that will be hard to break despite the two only knowing each other for a short period of time.

“Talk to the glyph, witch.”-I really like that line.

Ok, I’m glad we got confirmation that Luz’s magic does not work in the human world.

Young Eda and Lilith are so cute 😚

So basically, Lilith cursed Eda for nothing. I don’t know how I feel about that. Yeah, I know Lilith probably didn’t know that Eda was going to forfeit the duel, but to go as far as to curse your own sister, with a curse you knew little about, because you felt threatened, is too far. Lilith could have spoken to Eda about her feelings and get an idea about how Eda felt about being in the Emperor’s Coven before the match. I initially thought Lilith cursed Eda because she was forced to do so and not by choice. It’s going to be very hard for me to warm up to Lilith after finding out about this.

Yay! We get a confirmation on Gus’ dad. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think we first saw him during “The First Day.”

Willow took the words right out of my mouth. The petrification of Eda is too cruel.

Also, did Willow lowkey plant seeds for a revolution? It looks like a lot of people agreed with what she said.

The confrontation between Luz and Emperor Belos was amazing. It sets up a lot. Also, Luz stood her ground against one of the biggest foes on the Boiling Isles and sacrificed her way back home. I’m worried but I’m proud at the same time. 

“The Titan has told me to spare the Owl Lady’s life”-Okay, so the Emperor’s just using his ability to speak to the Titan as a way to manipulate the public. Gotcha🙃

Lilith redeemed herself a little bit by taking some of the curse’s effects away from Eda. And oooh, different eye colors.

So Eda is drained of her magic. 😥 But I’m glad Luz is agreeing to return the favor and teach her about drawing glyphs and producing magic.

What is this “Day of Unity”???

And hello what’s this???? A portal to the human? A doomsday device? Both??? This is Gravity Falls all over again and I love it.😲

Also, I saw they changed Eda’s eye color for the outro. Nice!

And there we have it, this season is over. This was a strong way to end the season and foreshadow a lot of plot points that will come in the next season.

This episode gave us more backstory on the Clawthorne sisters, lore on the Boiling Isles and what Emperor Belos’ main plan is. 

It also gave us a lot more of Luz’s confidence. Luz was never really a girl who didn’t speak her mind or do what she thinks is right, but she really popped off this episode. Everything from her magic, to the dialogue with Lilith and her confrontation with Emperor Belos was really good. She has really grown from that girl we saw in “A Lying Witch and a Warden.”

Also Luz is stuck on the Boiling Isles until further notice. So now her and Anne from Amphibia have a lot more in common than we think.

I’m not sure if this is my favorite episode of the season or not, but it’s definitely up there. I might make a post ranking all the episodes of the season, now that we are in HIATUS 😫

I hope this hiatus is not too long, but this whole season aired in the span of seven months, which is faster than I expected, so you never know. 

But I really had fun with this show and am curious to see where it goes next. This fandom has grown so much and the people that I have interacted with are so creative. I can’t wait to share this show’s first major hiatus with you guys. So until next time....✌

[dear-yandere]

succor.

yandere! jotaro kujo 3. major spoilers for stardust crusaders (part 3). word count: 2,600+. tw: bullying, implied depression, drowning, death, gore, and grief.

art credit: ロク. 

He carries himself with poise, an assurity few could ever possess. He is the personification of perfect — alas, a man who appears perfect, like a statue which leaves many in awe, a statue whose marble insides have begun to slowly erode, a statue who’s already begun falling apart. There exists not a soul who can fix him, no sculptor skilled enough, no human kind enough to fix his flaws before anyone else can catch on; Jotaro Kujo is his own sculptor, and he’s forgotten how to mend his broken pieces.

For as long as he’s known, he’s been a soldier. A boy soldier, who bears the weight of the world atop shoulders of steel, shoulders which shake and tremble when no one is looking. He is a soldier without a commander, a soldier without a purpose, and he was content with that. But he is a soldier who’s fought a battle meant for ten thousand men, a battle which has long ended, a battle which still plagues him; he is a soldier who’s fought god and he is only seventeen.

When did it begin, he wonders? When did his marble bones and stone veins start to crack? Was it that day? Becaues he remembers being bullied. He remembers taking each insult, like poison-laced daggers, and thinking nothing of it. He remembers the wrinkles, the eye bags, the grey hairs which had started to pepper his mother’s face at around the same time. He remembers the questions, the sobbing, her desperate pleas, her hesitant knocks on his bedroom door. He remembers her somehow finding out, remembers her standing up for him, one day, in the school yards. And he remembers his bullies trying to hurt her, too.

He remembers nearly killing them.

It was like the flip of a switch, how quickly he changed. Mom became mother, bitch, nuisance. She can’t understand how he felt in those moments — she couldn’t — because until the day he dies, he won’t let her. Keep her at arm’s length, don’t let her in. No one can know, no one can get close — they’ll just get hurt, too. That’s the funny thing about love: it hurts. To feel loved is wonderful, to be loved is tragic, damning, dangerous. He is a catalyst for disaster, destruction, danger, and everything in between.

Death loves him, and love has never felt so lonely.

He lost a friend that day. Metal had bent around his body like silken sheets, water had sod his clothing without care; if his body hadn’t already run cold, the water would’ve made him sick. He would’ve smiled and laughed it off with his dear friend, would’ve said his injuries are no big deal. He can still see, can still move, can still dream. 

If he’d lived.

He lost a friend that day, the only one he’d ever had.

And then there is you.

You are no different from the rest. Just another body to protect, another set of eyes he must keep from prying. Death loves him, and he’d been foolish enough to fall in love; funny how easily it happened, really. Because when you look at him, he feels as if he’s baring his all. All his insecurities and worries, all the times he’s wanted to break down and cry. It’s a feeling he hates, detests, but it’s something new, something unexpected, something needed. You are not those women who look at him with indignant curiosity. You are not his mother who looks at him with worry. You are not his grandfather nor his dead best friend; you are you, and somehow, you are everything he’s needed.

Love is a funny thing, he recalls, and that thought is enough to clear the darkness around him. It’s calming, at first. The nightmare is over and he must be waking up. Your soothing voice will greet him, as it always does; you’ll hug him, cradle him like a child, and he won’t push you away. But you don’t. You shine, so terribly bright that he has to look away for a moment. There’s warmth, comfort, safety in your direction, but he doesn’t walk forward. He doesn’t deserve it.

Not him. Not the man who let his friends die.

Jotaro, a dark, playful voice begins, echoing from the depths of nowhere. It’s familiar; far too knowing, far too cunning, far too demonic. Jotaro feels his mind start to unravel like loose threads, and the voice feeds off this, like a parasite.  If you love your friends and family so much, why do you never tell them? 

“What do you want?” Jotaro barks at nothing and turns toward the dark, turns away from you. Secretly, Jotaro has always been scared of the dark, but right now it was oddly welcoming. The dull beat of that voice, distorted and tinny, still seemed clear, pristine, ethereal. As if the voice had hands which he could not see, they wrapped around his neck like a noose and pulled. Gravity itself seemed to pull at his neck, pushing him further and further into the unforgiving abyss of the darkness as if swallowing him whole. 

Why is he here?

Just as his back hits the waters, the sudden impact knocks the oxygen out of his lungs within a second, before he’s plunged right beneath the surface. His eyes are open, even as salt-water pierced and burned; he was certain before, but this is too real to be a dream. It it weren’t for the fact that he could’ve perished any moment now, the sight before him would’ve actually been beautiful. Nothing but a color palette of deep sea blue clouded his peripheral vision with colors that were excruciatingly breath-taking in real life. 

But he isn’t deceived.

I want to wrap my brain around that head of yours, Jotaro. So, enlighten me... The disembodied voice mocks, feeling like blood rushing against his the insides of his head. It’s closer this time, over his shoulder, next to his ear, and there’s a familiarity to its tone — a familiarity he doesn’t want to acknowledge just yet. Surely telling them you care is easier than breaking your body over and over again.

Jotaro chews on the question with a hint of unmistakable disgust before spiting it out. He hears the voice laugh that mocking song once again, and the light shining from above almost feels like they’re mocking his every movement, too. They watch his arm shoot upwards, silently and slowly for their help — and they laughed. The gears in his brain start turning, willing his limbs to work as legs weakly kicked up in desperate search for air. Realization soon beats itself into his slowly-drowning lungs, and he’s left to face questions that no one but he knows the answers to.

How did he get here? Is he awake? Is he alive?

Answer me, little mortal. We haven’t got all night. The voice goads, and it feels like sharp needles have stuffed themselves into the canals of his ears. Jotaro hisses, and the voice seems content with the response, at the least. Or, perhaps you’d prefer to drown? What a peculiar way for a marine biologist to go, but humans never cease to amaze me.

Jotaro struggles to answer the voice which claims to be inhuman, but dark waters only drain into his mouth like rapids. Time wasn’t even on his mind at this point, but he couldn’t help but wonder how long he’s been underwater. The ocean seemed to pin his legs and arms into icicles, keeping them from thrashing everywhere. Soon, his attempts on fighting for oxygen were getting much more pathetic — much weaker with each kick.

‘Is this how I die?’ He thinks, chuckling at the irony. The feeling of agreeing with the voice is bitter, but its words are not wrong. To think he’d die in the embrace of something he’s spent his life researching. And even so, he wastes no time in reaching a conclusion: ‘Still not a bad way to go.’ 

Not that he'd been holding onto hope in the first place, but witnessing the light stray further from his grasp was anything but welcoming. It’s clear that his mind and body were slowly starting to lose motivation in fighting against fate. His fate.

And right now, he’s drawing nearer to the finish line.

His limbs had eventually stopped responding and allowed gravity to drag his body into the never ending abyss he’d always marveled at when he’d been alive. And despite condemning himself to his fate, the hopelessness seethed in gradually. Human nature, he concluded; to want what you cannot have is human nature. He knows that better than most.

Once his air supply ran tight, his mouth instinctively opened up once again, allowing water to flow in through his nostrils and throat. Every 'breath’ made him choke on the saltiness of the ocean waters, lungs struggling to hang on as the water slowly crushed its cage from inside and out. Barely even able to hear his own thoughts, he assumed his eardrums burst from the insane depths he was being pulled into. His eyelids grew heavy like boulders and finally drooped; he had already succumbed to the thought of death — he couldn’t even cry in anguish or relief, but perhaps the downpour above the waters was crying for him instead. The thought was comforting, to know that someone, some thing would mourn his death.

His back hits the ocean floor like a sunken ship, and he believes he’s dead until the voice speaks again: Have you had enough time to think, little mortal? Its words are scathing, and by far the last thing he wants to hear on his death bed, but with it, came air. It seemed an impossible feat at the bottom of an ocean no human has visited before, but the air is crisp and fresh. Jotaro drinks it up, gulping it down in excess, reveling at how it fills his lungs with life. The water he’d inhaled and drunk doesn’t even seem to exist, at the moment, but he hasn’t the state of mind to dwell on that.

“Where am I?” He chokes out, still tasting the bitter tang of salt against the back of his throat. The voice seems to echo around him, and he finally realizes that he is still on the ocean floor. Sea creatures he’s never seen flit around him, and despite the stark absence of any light, he can see them clear as day.

Only you know that. The voices hums, creating a vibrato in the seawaters, a sound that seems to manifest into arms and once again coil around Jotaro’s neck, like a noose. He wants to scream and thrash and fight, but the comforting presence of Star Platinum within his core is... vacant. 

I shall repeat myself. If you love your friends and family so much, why do you never tell them? The question seems out of place at the bottom of an ocean filled with light and air, but the entity leaves no room for Jotaro to dwell. The heavy stench of iron is immediately recognizable, and Jotaro realizes there’s a gash in his chest. Pale fingers, topped with blackened fingernails which have grown awfully too long, held his intestines away from his torso, the flesh coiled tightly around the hands of a man he once knew.

A man who should be dead.

And yet, here he is. And yet, there is no pain.

“Because...” The words slip past his lips before he knows how to finish. Because what? Because he’s an asshole who can’t put his feelings into words? Because he’s a fool who deserves to suffer alone? Because...

“Because I’m afraid.”

The voice cackles, creating distortions in the sand bed and deep sea water, and yet he could recognize it as clear as day. DIO.

Oh? Is that so? DIO runs a tongue over his lips, deciding to humor his little plaything. Then, hypothetically, if you do tell them you love them, what are you so afraid will happen?

Jotaro doesn’t respond.

I’m waiting.

“...I don’t know.”

Liar. DIO bites and lightly pressing a claw-like fingernail into Jotaro’s jugular. It’s not polite to lie.

“I...” The pool of blood at his feet is disorienting, vivid and real despite the darkness around him. “It’s not that I don’t want to trust them, I...” He reaches out to cup the hand still jutting from his stomach. How odd it is to see such a horrific sight and feel no pain; and it all clicks into place. Jotaro chokes up for a brief moment, hoping a reply will make this all end. “...It’s dangerous to show you care. If they knew, and if my enemies knew how important they are to me, then...”

This isn’t real. None of this is real. How many times has he had this nightmare? And how many times has he imagined just that — the corpses of his loved ones plastered along the streets? The screams that won’t stop? The look of fear and hope on their faces?

That hasn’t happened, yet, and yet he faults himself: how can he be so weak?

There we go. DIO clicks his tongue and gently strokes his great grand-nephew’s hairs — something he no doubt imagines to be an affectionate pat. Not so hard, is it? Jotaro nods, too weak to stand up for himself. This nightmare never ends. You’re afraid of being too vulnerable. DIO coos and twists his blood-covered arm, deepending Jotaro’s unreal wound. You’re afraid of being too... weak.

The ghost’s words always sting, but this nightmare has become so commonplace, so normal — as easy as breathing, despite the waters around him — that Jotaro hasn’t the strength to feel anger. It’s not like DIO is wrong. He is afraid, he is weak, and above all, he’s afaraid of being weak.

But, how curious it is, little mortal. Hasn’t anyone ever told you— the voice begins to chastise, but is cut off; its words don’t reach his ears. Rather, there’s a soothing scent, with familiar aromas he can’t quite place. But the serenity is short lived. The air Jotaro seemed to be breathing dissipates, and he’s drowning again. His throat burns as if a thousand of needles were piercing it all at the same time, chest clenching itself suffocatingly tight; it’s hell all over again. He couldn’t help but feel pathetic for not acting sooner, especially when the exit was right in front of him, even if it wasn’t anywhere near his reach. Now that chance was thrown carelessly out the window, with no means on returning back to his grasp— 

And his sinks.

As he struggled to keep himself afloat and conscious, black spots started to paint his vision one by one, and that’s when time was obviously running out. His eyelids give up —

And then he wakes up.

There’s a gentle, shaking motion, like a boat — as if he’s being cradled and soothed like he had been as a child. He can’t place it immediately, but you’re whispering soft little assurances into his ear, brushing strands of ebony hair which had plastered itself to wet skin. He realizes that the sweet scent from before is you. He can’t discern your words, not fully, not over the sound of blood rushing to his ears. If your arms weren’t wrapped around him a like a safety net, he’d still think he’s drowning, dying; but, the glimpses of words he’d catch every so often were enough to comfort him. You assure him that he’s still very much alive, that he’s awake, that nothing can hurt him, that it was all a nightmare.

It was just a nightmare.

Hasn’t anyone ever told you? The undead voice chimes, but your voice, clear as day, replaces its mocking tone, and Jotaro melts. He gazes upwards, into your eyes which hold the moon and all its stars and he suddenly remembers that wishes are made upon them.

“It’s okay to be weak, Jotaro.”

inspired by this.

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 4.4}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student (however no underage romance), blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.9k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

"Could you come over here please?" Snape's voice drew her attention away from the fireplace, and Robin found herself surprised that he actually even knew that the word 'please' could be used without sarcasm. If he used it in all seriousness now, the images in Robin's head must've left a deeper impression on him than she had expected.

With a touch of guilt on her mind, she got up and walked over to the table where he was working on whatever potion it was that was quietly bubbling in the small cauldron in front of him. If being here in his laboratory in her pajamas wasn't odd enough, standing next to him now in the same state while he was working definitely was.

"What do you need me to do?" She asked as neutrally as she could, as her eyes followed every single movement of his hands on their own accord in admiring fascination. Whatever he was brewing here, it surely wasn't something she knew, nor something that was easy enough to be taught in class.

He stopped in his work mere seconds later and turned to Robin with an odd expression on his face, one she couldn't remember ever seeing before. "What you see here is a potion I invented after the incident with the boggart last term, to trace the spells that have affected a living being in the past seventy two hours."

His words made Robin's stomach drop immediately as she caught on to what he was implying. But she didn't want to believe it just yet. "Why are you making this?" Her voice was far too quiet to even feign neutrality, but it would've been useless anyway in the light of the honest discomfort in her eyes.

"To hopefully confirm my suspicion. I believe you have been hexed for some time now."

Robin only nodded for a moment, wrapping her head around the possibility of that. It was likely, yes, but who would've hexed her? And whatever for? Well, they would hopefully find out soon enough, if she finally stopped being a dunderhead and got into a serious mode of working with Snape again. "What can I do to help?"

"That is the downside." He mused and turned to look at the cauldron instead of Robin. "The potion requires your blood in order to determine the foreign magic used on you."

"Alright, how much do you need?"

His eyes snapped back to Robin at the easy factuality of her voice, and the neutrality in his own was replaced by surprised incredulity. "A… few drops should suffice."

"May I?" Robin asked without further ado as she pointed to the knife on the cutting board in front of her, and upon his barely noticeable nod, she didn't hesitate to use it to make a small and precise cut on her left forearm, to which she then pressed her right hand to stop it from bleeding already. It didn't hurt, and she didn't mind. "Should I add it directly or do you need to do something else first?"

"Go ahead…" His voice was still everything but normal, everything but neutral, and his unusual quietness about her ways of assisting him made Robin wonder if she had made a mistake. But he had given her the go after all, and so she moved to take his place in front of the cauldron, then held her forearm over the steaming brew and lifted her right hand just enough to let a few drops fall into the bubbling liquid. It turned red first, then entirely black.

"Anything else?" Robin asked as she made room for him again, holding her arm far away enough from her t-shirt to not risk smudging any blood on it. The cut really wasn't deep and hardly painful compared to everything she'd been through in the past few hours, but she didn't want new blood onto her clothes again any time soon. The thought of that alone made the hairs in her neck stand up, but she figured that it would probably stop bleeding in a minute anyway.

"It was the last step." Snape replied quietly, but kept his eyes and frown on her instead of the product of his efforts. Robin raised an eyebrow in question in return, and that finally made him go on, even if not in the way she expected. "You really are a curious creature."

Now Robin's other eyebrow lifted as well, and she didn't know if she should feel flattered or offended. The crimson heat rising to her face didn't differentiate between that though. "Uhm, I… sorry?"

With a sigh he lifted her arm up by her wrist, in a surprising gentleness that contrasted his irritated demeanor, then pried her hand away from the cut to take a look at it. But Robin didn't even feel the cut anymore, for any and every discomfort was washed away by the pleasantly blazing sensation of his hand wrapped around her arm. Oh come on, Robin! Really?! She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at herself, at the same time as she suppressed the unappreciated tingles. There was no time for this right now, and there never would be time for it! Hopefully that would finally get through that thick skull of hers.

Before she knew, her arm was dropped to her side again, the cut gone and the very much different prickle of magic fading from her skin. "Thank you." She said, even though she didn't know for sure what had happened or what he had done. Once again she had been too caught up in her own head to be bothered with reality.

"I was under the impression that after what happened…" He paused, thought, and turned towards the potion on the table once more before he spoke on. "I did not expect you to be so… factual about the issue. In the light of recent events."

Oh… he was referring to the fact that she had woken up entirely covered in blood a mere few hours ago. Oh well, that surely would be terribly troublesome to anyone who actually acknowledged that it had happened as a part of their reality. In Robin's mind, the events were mere scenes of a movie she had seen a long time ago. Obviously her subconsciousness hadn't found any other way to cope with these memories, for that's what the pictures were becoming now, and Robin was fine with it as long as she could finally function again. Functioning, working, facts… that's what always served to make her mind shut up. But she understood that it must be confusing for Snape, who only saw the results of her weird coping mechanisms now, not the way of coping itself.

"I think I'm better already." She summed up her previous thought process. "Not nearly alright, but mostly fit for function. And right now I need to function to finally get through this mess. So, your theory… would you tell me more? How did you get the idea that I was hexed?"

Snape raised an eyebrow at Robin for a moment, but seeing as she looked back at him with calm seriousness, he sat down on the stool behind him with a sigh and motioned for Robin to sit down as well. "I have had the suspicion that something might be wrong with you ever since last Monday, when Pomona informed me of the incident in your herbology class. Then on Wednesday it was confirmed when you did not feel like working in the evening."

"How did that of all things confirm that something was wrong with me?"

"I have seen you working with a broken ankle after getting beaten up by the Whomping Willow. If anything stops you from following your passion for learning, it must be more serious than that." He stated, then continued with the previous explanation. "Of course I did not know the true extent or gravity of the issue before you let me see for myself, but if I had been aware of your nightmares at least, I might have been able to draw the necessity conclusion a lot sooner. Say, why did you choose not to tell me?"

"I wanted to!" Robin replied instinctively, but then decided to give a more rational than emotional answer. "I… wanted to tell you, on Wednesday night. But you were so busy with more important things and I didn't think it was important enough to bother you with. I mean, nightmares are just such a childish thing to get so entirely upset about… it's just not something you talk about with your professor if you ever want to be taken seriously again."

"Am I not taking you seriously?"

"Actually, you are the only one who does. And I didn't want to endanger that by complaining about something like this. I just didn't want to reduce myself to a pathetic little girl who is scared of something as childish as bad dreams."

"First point, if you call those nightmares childish then I truly do not wish to know what your childhood looked like. Second point, I would never think less of you for confiding in me about any issue at all. But I do realize that I tend to call people 'pathetic' rather casually, so I see your point in thinking I might do the same to you. I would never. Not… seriously, at least. You know that. Third and most important point, your nightmares weren't, in fact, nightmares at all."

"Wait, what?!" Could he repeat that just a little less casually?? And… not confuse her poor heart by actually being nice to her now?

"What you saw was beyond terrifying, but those images weren't nightmares. They weren't even dreams. Or have you at any point in your previous life experienced the very same vivid dream for a week in a row and found yourself able to remember every detail once you woke up?"

"No, of course not… it really is a bit weird, admittedly. I have actually briefly considered the possibility that they weren't my own dreams, but never that they weren't dreams at all. What were they though? And who would be cruel and creative enough to torture me like that?"

"That is precisely what we are going to find out now." With that he snatched a piece of parchment out from where it was stuck between two books on the other table, then placed it next to the cauldron in front of them. "The way this potion works is simple: you let droplets of it fall onto a clear surface, and it will spell out the magic last used on the subject whose blood was added."

While he did just that, Robin got to witness what he had explained and how it actually made sense when put into action. The black droplets seemed to soak into the parchment for a moment, then they formed the words that had been spoken, and thus the spell that had been used. A remarkable piece of magic, and Robin couldn't help the curiosity that overcame her like it would under normal circumstances.

"How did you come up with this?!" She wondered in astonishment as she let her fingers trace over the slowly forming words. They didn't smudge like ink would… curious. "It's brilliant, I mean… I wish I had the energy left to really think it through, but it's already quite ingenious in its existence alone."

"Perhaps…" He mused, careful in his voice of words. "I will explain it to you at a different point in time. If you would like."

"I would like that a lot, actually." Robin replied with a small smile, the first one in a long time. Maybe sorting through this mess together did help her in dealing with it after all.

"As for the current issue…" He went on then, directed at the piece of parchment, and Robin followed his eyes down to the now clearly legible writing on it. "It appears that my suspicions were correct."

"Okay, but what exactly does that mean? Did… did someone really hex me?" The insecure frown was back on Robin's face as she looked at the paper in an attempt to make sense of the spells. Some of them looked familiar… others completely foreign. But there were a lot more of them than Robin had expected.

"Someone tried to hex you, yes." He started, and his voice took a grave turn as he did. "This spell here…" Only once Robin had read the words he was pointing at, he continued. "It is a terribly ragged alternation of a simple charm. Instead of giving the victim harmless visions born of their own mind, the spell was reworded to give the victim realistic visions that were predetermined by the person casting it. This very likely is what was used on you every night during the past week to instil the very same pictures into your mind. Those dreams were knowingly forced upon you, that much is clear now."

"Who would go through that trouble to do something like that?! And… why not simply use legilimency to place pictures into my mind, it would be an easier choice for that, wouldn't it?" Robin frowned. "Why make things difficult and use a self-made spell?"

"I can only assume that the person behind this spell either wasn't aware of the advantages of legilimency, or was indeed aware of the fact that they would not be good enough at it to get through your defense. It is no secret among the staff that you are a decent occlumens, and I believe it should be equally known among your peers."

"So someone altered an entirely different spell just to hex me? To give me nightmares?"

"That seems to have been their intention, yes. But going by your experiences and my own, I am led to believe that while it was intended to be a hex, it turned out a curse instead. That would explain why it affected you so strongly."

"So I was cursed?!"

"Yes."

"Oh bloody hell…" Robin sighed to herself, and honestly she didn't know if she wanted to be relieved or even more terrified. On one hand it was good news that she was someone else's victim, not her own. But on the other hand it also made her someone else's victim! She frowned at another thought. "Uh, professor...? How exactly did the person who cursed me know what kind of visions they needed to show me to mess with my head that much?"

"It could be a mere coincidence."

"No, it couldn't. You saw what my worst fear was last year, and you saw the visions given to me now. Do you seriously believe that something that similar in both its manifestation and result could be a coincidence?"

"No." Snape replied with a defensive scowl. "And before you try to accuse me of telling someone the truth behind the incident with the boggart, let me assure you that I have better things to do than gossip about your fears and memories."

"I… didn't even consider accusing you of anything, actually." Robin said in a calm but quiet voice, as she realized that he really was the only person who knew about her fear in the first place. Still, absolutely nothing within her believed that he would've done that, not to her and not to anyone else. "I know you wouldn't tell anyone about what you see in my mind."

"And what makes you so ridiculously certain about that?" This, clearly, was a test. Robin could tell by his tone, by the frown on his face, even by the fact that he was asking in the first place and not straight out scolding her for making assumptions about him. But it was a test she felt ready to take, even if it was totally the wrong time for something like this.

"Actually, there's two very good answers to that and one you wouldn't want to hear: First, you yourself seem uncomfortable enough knowing about it in the first place, thus I doubt that you would have any gain out of letting other people know that you know. Second and more importantly, you are the smartest person I know, and therefore I honestly doubt that you would consider betraying the trust of someone who is keeping secrets of yours in return. It simply would be unwise, even if that person would never betray you in return."

"What's the third answer?" He asked without any reaction to what Robin had just so very frankly stated.

"That I trust you. Obviously. But seeing as that is my own sentiment rather than a tangible reason, I was under the impression that it would hardly matter to you."

"It shouldn't." He mused, more to himself than to Robin, and turned his focus back to the parchment so exclusively that Robin felt like she had passed the test against his own expectation. For that, she felt a little pleased with herself at last, considering that it was a huge success for a night that had already messed her up so very much. One small win that weighed up quite a few losses in return.

"Before we go any deeper into the question of how your fears became known to the person responsible for the visions, we might as well try to find that person and ask them." Snape commented a moment later, all back to the seriousness of before.

"I agree." Robin replied in an equal 'back-to-business' mode of behavior. "What do the spells say about what happened tonight? There must be one spell at least that's responsible for making me someone else's puppet. I don't really know about the blood or the other me, that might not be anything directly affecting me, but-..."

"Say that again." He ordered with one quick look at Robin, then a frown back at the parchment.

"Uh…" Robin was thrown off her track of thought by the interruption, but stared at the parchment nonetheless as if it would give her the right words to reply now. "I… said that I don't know if the blood or the bodies were really there or if it was magic, but I definitely know that one spell must've been used on me, at least, to make me a puppet of the other me."

"It seems like you just answered your own question." He pointed at another three words written close to the bottom of the list. "Do you know that spell?"

"It looks vaguely familiar, but I'm not entirely certain which bell it rings with me."

"It does exactly what you said: it turns inanimate objects into puppets at the will and command of who spoke the spell. Again, it was reworked to affect a living being just the same, but I believe that this goal was achieved with more luck than reason."

"So someone created a makeshift imperius curse. For me." Robin stated in a mixture of distancing incredulity and simple refusal to acknowledge the insanity of this. "And then they used it to scare me? I can't believe how stupid that sounds while yet being absolutely terrifying."

"This has to be the most pathetically successful orchestration of cruelty I have ever seen."

"That… is a very good description." Robin sighed, but she still didn't really see the point in all of this. Who would do something like that? And why? At least knowing the 'how' behind what had happened made her feel much less afraid of it. "Do you have any idea how the second 'me' could be explained? Or the bodies?"

"I do have theories, but no proof to either of them." He replied and folded the piece of parchment into smaller and smaller squares under Robin's careful observation.

"Still, enlighten me. Please…" She requested as she wondered what he was up to yet again when he placed the piece of parchment in one of his pockets.

"Polyjuice potion, any and every possible delusion spell, constructed illusions, projected illusions, mere physical acts of trickery, more altered charms, acts of-…"

"Alright alright, I… I get it." She sighed, and he stopped in his counting down of possibilities. "A different approach, maybe: do you have an idea who could have constructed these spells, or why?"

"Well, who would take such joy in your suffering that they wouldn't refrain from cursing you?" Snape asked in return as he rose from his stool.

"Maybe you better ask me who wouldn't like to see me suffering…" Robin scoffed and leaned the weight of her upper body onto her forearms on the table, for sitting upright and straight became too exhausting at last. "That would definitely be easier to answer."

"Maybe you could narrow it down to the individuals who possess the ability to rework more or less innocent spells into serious, even if adulterated, pieces of dark magic."

Somehow his words rang a bell in Robin's mind, and her eyes widened in shock and dread at her own thought. No… that was ridiculous. Seriously, that was just insane. But wasn't this entire situation insane enough already to make basically anything possible? Maybe. "I… have a name in mind, but it would be very inappropriate to say what I think in this case."

"I believe we moved past appropriate when you attacked me with a saucepan, so you may just as well tell me who you are thinking of."

"Professor Morgan." Robin blurted out before her lips could stay sealed, before her mind could find a better way to approach this delicate topic.

"That happens to have been my first thought as well." He replied as if this serious accusation was absolutely nothing to him. "However no matter how incompetent and imbecile I find that man, in the light of longer consideration I doubt that he is the core of the occurrences."

"But you think he's got something to do with it at least?" Robin inquired. Gosh, she wouldn't even be surprised if Morgan had any part in this. Somehow her problems usually came down to him anyway, or to the other Slytherins.

"I do believe he does, knowingly or not." Snape mused as he rounded the table and made for the door. "No matter what I believe, I shall pay him a visit right in this instant."

"Wait!" Robin blurted out yet again before her rational mind had a say. Maybe the tiredness was catching up with her at last, no matter if she could force her body to stay awake or not. But a tired mind meant a slow filter between thought and speech, and Robin struggled for a decent way to cover up the fact that she didn't want him to leave her alone. Not even in the safety of the lab. Seems like not all fear had left her mind after all. "Uh, it's… it's roughly four o'clock in the morning! I couldn't imagine Morgan to be awake."

"He most likely isn't, but that doesn't mean I cannot wake him up." It sounded way too simple put like that, unfortunately. "I want this issue to be solved as soon as possible and Morgan is a good point to start."

"Isn't it a bit… weird to come to him with some spells in the middle of the night to find out if they originated from him?"

"Is it? I am merely consulting the school's defense against the dark arts professor in the urgent matter of protecting the students from the dark magic that is inherent in these spells we discovered. This is important school business, and that makes it perfectly reasonable to find him at this time." He explained, and Robin found herself surprised that he bothered to explain his reasons to her at all when he had so often before made a point in not having to explain himself to her, or anyone else for that matter.

"Perfectly reasonable indeed." Robin sighed more defeatedly than intended, but quickly got a gasp of herself again. She didn't want to be alone right now, while they still hadn't answered all of the important questions. While she didn't know who had cursed her just to see her suffering. But she also knew that her only chance at finding out was for Snape to go question Morgan now. "Uh, what would you like me to do in the meanwhile? I… can leave, if you want, or-..."

"You should stay here for now, until the issue is solved. I will lock the door with an additional charm that should prevent anyone but you and me from entering the laboratory. Try to rest." Now, that was more a suggestion than an order for once, and Robin nodded compliantly. Before Snape finally closed the door behind himself however, he turned to Robin once more. "There are ingredients in this room that in sum cost more than the entire castle. You can believe me when I say you are perfectly safe in here with them. But I should not be gone for long either way." With that the door was closed, the room silent and Robin on her own.

… … …

After a moment of listening to the silence, Robin moved from the table back towards the fireplace. It wasn't all too cold in the small room, usually, but the warmth of the fire still made her feel more comfortable, especially now that she was far from appropriately clad and far from having sufficient energy to keep herself warm.

At least she already felt a whole lot better on the inside than she had a good while ago. Still scared, yes, and anxious as well, but not terrified out of her mind. Not like crying, not like running. That was a step into the right direction, and one she believed she had only been able to make after the threat had become tangible to her. It was far easier to deal with a person who possesses evil but mediocre magic skills than with a mysterious, allconsuming dark force that was ineffable in its extent and threat.

"Oh, Miss Mitchell!" A small, squeaky voice made Robin yelp nonetheless as it suddenly came out of nowhere, right next to her.

"Buttercup! Bloody hell, you scared me…" Robin said as she took deep breaths to calm her heart back down. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"I apologise, Miss, I am terribly sorry!" The house elf looked to her feet in shame and Robin immediately felt bad for being so harsh to her in her surprise.

"It's alright, don't feel bad about it please. I'm just… jumpy tonight." Robin sighed and tried to somewhat smile at the elf. None of this was her fault after all. "Why are you here?"

"To bring you whatever you would like, Miss." Buttercup answered brightly. "From the kitchens or any other place."

Robin closed her eyes for a brief second and took one more deep breath, then had to smile for real. "Did Professor Snape send you here?"

"Yes, but he told me not to tell you that, only to bring you whatever you request. So what would you like, Miss?" Buttercup smiled happily, and Robin had to smirk at the clueless innocence of the young servant as well as Snape's attempt to conceal his any and every act of kindness. He might have gotten better at accepting Robin's kind gestures, but he definitely wasn't anywhere near accepting his own. Oh well, an issue for another point in time.

"I would like you to bring me three things from my room, if that's possible?" Robin inquired, and Buttercup nodded immediately.

"Yes, yes! Anything from anywhere, Miss!"

"Good… could you please get me my wand from my nightstand, the old leather backpack from next to my bed, and the black lace-up boots with the yellow stitching from under my bed?" Robin said a little slower than normal, not in a condescending way, but to make sure the elf could memorize it without a haste. No need to rush the poor girl.

"Certainly, Miss. I will be back in a moment." And with that she was gone, leaving Robin alone in the room again. This certainly was a spontaneous development of things, Buttercup showing up here, but not at all unappreciated… Robin couldn't wait to get her hands on her most precious belongings. Everything material that she needed and valued was in that backpack, except for her wand and her favorite pair of shoes. And if Buttercup found those as well, Robin could very well live without ever setting foot into her room again. She would have to live in her pajamas, but she would live indeed.

"Please don't startle again, Miss…" Came the small voice, a mere whisper, from Robin's left after a few minutes, and Robin felt touched that the elf actually made an effort not to scare her again.

"All good, I'm fine." She replied and immediately went to help the completely over-packed Buttercup put her belongings down.

"I brought everything you requested, Miss!" The elf said, still sounding overjoyed to be helping Robin out. "Your instructions were very helpful, thank you for your efforts."

"That wasn't an effort at all! It is the least I can do to make it easier for you." Robin tried to explain to her, but already knew that the elf wouldn't listen to that. "I'm very thankful for your effort to bring me my belongings."

"It was my privilege to help you. Would you like anything else?"

"Say, how did my room look?" Robin asked, coming to think back to the puddles of blood she had seen. "Anything… unusual?"

"Your room looked perfectly ordinary, Miss. Very clean for one of the students' rooms."

"And what about my roommates?"

"All four of them are sleeping, and one was snoring. And there was a cat on your bed." Buttercup stated positively, seemingly delighted about being able to give such a detailed report.

"How curious…" Robin mused to herself, but before she could dwell on it, Buttercup interrupted her thoughts.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Miss?"

"I would like for you to accept another piece of the muggle candy I have given to you before. You liked it, didn't you?"

"Yes, Miss, I did like it. But you are too kind to me, I cannot accept any more-..."

"You would make me very happy if you could accept it." Robin argued innocently, even though she knew she was tricking the poor girl. But it was for her own good. "It would make me happy if I could make you happy with that candy."

"If it makes you happy, Miss… It makes me happy." She gave in with a sheepish smile, and Robin grabbed her wand and her backpack and summoned a Twirl with a simple accio out of the bag's depths to give it to the house elf.

"Here you go… I hope you enjoy it as much as I do."

"Thank you, Miss. You really are beyond kind. Us house elves don't receive gifts often, it really is special to be given something."

"Well, you could always take this candy back to the kitchens and multiply it. Then everyone of you can have a piece, as a gift." Robin suggested in a careful friendliness, and in the hopes that Buttercup would actually enjoy doing that. It really was difficult sometimes to get an honest opinion out of a house elf. Almost as hard as getting an honest opinion out of Snape, only in the exact opposite way.

"Would you like for me to do that?"

"Yes." Robin replied after a moment of thinking. "Tell them Robin and Professor Snape say thank you for the occasional chocolate cake, and the occasional help."

The elf giggled at Robin's comment and clutched the candy to her chest like it was the most precious item she had ever held. "Certainly, Miss. Would you like me to bring you anything else?"

"No. Thank you, Buttercup."

"You are most welcome, Miss."

"Actually, I would like for you to stop calling me 'Miss'... Just Robin is fine."

"Certainly, Miss Robin." Buttercup smiled brightly at Robin, who couldn't help smiling in return at the incorrigible ways of the house elves. Well, if it made her happy…

"Goodnight. Enjoy the candy." Robin said after a moment of silence, and the young elf gave her a small wave before disappearing again, leaving Robin alone with her newly regained belongings.

Sighing in relief, Robin took quick inventory of her backpack, then inspected her wand for any blemishes that weren't supposed to be there and finally put on the socks she'd stuffed into her boots the previous evening and then the shoes themselves. Funny how she had never before truly appreciated the luxury of having shoes… or clothing in general.

Then she tried to find the black jumper she was sure to have put into her backpack, but as neither the accio nor a physical search brought any results, Robin gave up on it and simply scooted herself a bit closer to the fire again. Hadn't she even put a darn rain coat in there too, at some point? Then she remembered… she'd taken both the jacket and the jumper out last Saturday when she'd gotten caught in the rain during a walk, and then left both pieces hanging over her chair to dry. In the frenzy of the whole nightmare thing, she had never had the mind to put them back into her bag though. Great… She would seriously need to upgrade her inventory once all of this was over. With all the space she had, she'd definitely pack at least two entire changes of clothes, some shoes and a blanket. But planning to do that in the future didn't help her now.

Yawning, Robin spun and twisted her wand between her fingers and simply gazed into the flames without any lasting string of thought. It must be nearing five o'clock… and she was dead tired. Maybe she should just close her eyes for a moment, only until Snape would return. If she couldn't think straight when he got back, she would be of absolutely no use to solving the issue at hand and that was the last thing she wanted. A few minutes of rest surely couldn't hurt anyone, right? She had her wand with her now, along with everything of value when it came to protecting herself. She was prepared now. And this probably was one of the safest places in the entire castle indeed, so nobody could get to her here… not even the nightmares that weren't nightmares. Nobody knew where she was, nobody could curse her. She was going to be alright. He had promised it.

With a silent sigh, Robin moved over to the nearest wall to lean against the side of the shelf, but it was too far away from the fire, too cold for her to be comfortable, and thus she admitted her defeated to circumstance and simply curled into a ball directly in front of the flames while using her backpack as a pillow. After everything that had happened tonight, this didn't even seem inappropriate anymore, and honestly, she also couldn't care less. She would pass out soon anyway, so she might as well lay down first. Indeed, before she could think of any reason not to, she had already succumbed to exhaustion.

______________________________

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[missdawnandherdusk]

A Guy Worth Getting Expelled For

Draco X Gryffindor!Reader

Part One    Part Two    Part Three    

Part Four     Part Five

Summary: So maybe you and Draco figured out that you don’t have to hate each other... but that about the rest of the school? 

A/N: Who is ReADy foR ThiS!? Because I promise you all, you’re not. It’s been one of my favorite parts so far but let me know what you think! I love you guys and your feedback so don’t be afraid to comment or reblog! (Also this is over 3k words because I have no self control anymore)

Tags: @un-limiteddd @geekysimmerthings @coffee-addicti @ilikestuffproductions @msmcsmutt @ravn-87 @artemismohr18 @whygz @crazywritingbug @dolphincommander @bisexualbumblebeesstuff @fuzzy-panda @bitemebro522 @zombiesnips-blog @jillanaholland @shookyungsoo @savingdraco @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @akari180 @slytherin-emerald @chaotic-good-gemini @memalfoy-spidey

The weekend passed, and due to final exams, I was holed up in my room most of the time. That’s what was nice about rooming with Hermione, I could cook my own food—the Muggle way—and she wouldn’t tell on me. Ramen was a lifesaver as we studied.

I hadn’t heard form Draco at all. Part of me wondered if he figured it out. The letter he wrote to me was getting worn form the amount of times that I unfolded and refolded it each time I reread his words.

The boys did coax us both down to dinner Sunday night, however. They weren’t quite convinced that I was fine and were still at my defense despite my change in mood and constant protests. In fact, it seemed like every Gryffindor in our year and then some were ready at my defense.

“Do you want us to sneak a doxy into his room?” Fred offered. “We’ll do it. Free of charge.” 

“No, I’m okay, really,”

“We could do it anyway,” George suggested.

“No,” I said firmly as we sat in the Great Hall.

Dinner came and passed, and I didn’t have to look over my shoulder for Draco because Ron and Harry were doing a great job of that already. There was no way I was going to be able to walk to Draco with this... protection squad hovering—and not listening to me when I said I was fine.

My heart did flutter as both Harry and Ron tensed, glaring at the door to the Hall. A smile found its way to my face as I turned, finding clam blue eyes.

“I’ll get him,” Harry said, getting up from the table and Ron following suit.

“Guys, wait, no!” I scrambled to get up, tripping over my robes before righting myself, a few paces behind them, Hermione at my heels.

The students who were in the Hall also noticed what was going on and all looked our way. Some stood to get a better look. This was going to get very bad very fast if someone didn’t do something. And, apparently, I had to be that someone.

“You have some nerve Malfoy!” Harry sneered, drawing his wand.

My adrenaline spiked as Draco kept his cool, keeping his eyes on me. I tried to tell him that this wasn’t my idea and that they didn’t know and that I would fix this, but maybe that was too much to tell him in one look.

I caught up to Harry and pushed past him. Turning and facing Harry—the same way that Draco had done for me against Pansy—I glared him down.

“What are you doing!?” I demanded. “I told you! It was fine!”

“But he hurt you! He deserves this!” Harry exclaimed.

“Pansy was the one who made me cry not Draco!” I laid out. “He... He protected me from her,”

Harry gaped at me and so did Ron, Hermione was beaming. There was a rumbling through the students who had gathered around us. Why did I keep finding myself in these situations?

“No way, I don’t believe it,” Harry hissed. “Malfoy would never, and not for you.”

“And how would you know!?” I demanded. “You’re so absorbed in yourself that you never stop to look, or think, or ask questions!”

“So now you’re taking his side!?” Harry fumbled.

I scoffed and threw my hands up in exasperation.

“Why does there have to be sides!? Why do we have to fight!?” 

“He’s a Slytherin!”

“Great! And I’m a Pisces! What does it matter!” I annunciated each word, taking a few calming breaths. “He deserves to be helped and loved as much as you do Harry,” My voice was barely audible.

Now Harry was glaring me down, his anger shifting from Draco to me, which was fine, I could handle Harry easy—Golden Boy or not.

There was a hand on my shoulder.

I turned, meeting Draco’s eyes.

“I’m not worth this.” He murmured softly. “Don’t... not because of me.”

He was so close now. I could feel the fear and desperation almost tangibly as he pleaded with me to back down, and maybe that broke me more. For him to think that he wasn’t worth saving. That he wasn’t worth fighting for.

“Did you figure it out?” I asked softly, completely ignoring Harry and the others behind me. Draco held my focus now. “Who sent me the letter and who I told my mother about?”

He nodded and looked down. How could he know that he was the one that I had chosen, and he still didn’t think it was right for me to fight for him?

“What? Is Malfoy jealous over who you’re crushing on?” Ron jeered and the crowd snickered.

Draco turned red, gritting his teeth, I saw his hand reach for his wand, but I beat him to it and drew mine. Spinning around, almost hissing at Ron, everyone backed away from me, sensing the danger I assumed.

“I don’t think he can be jealous,” I snapped, tilting my chin back. “But the rest of you can,”

Without much thought or time in the moments between, I grabbed Draco’s hand and pulled him closer. I met his eyes for an instant, and I could see and feel the coolness of a lake, the refreshing wave of the ocean. There was an electric current between us.

I brought my hand to cup his face ever so gently—grimacing when he flinched as if I was going to hit him—and quickly pressed my lips to his. He froze under my touch but relaxed almost instantly, which was a bit shocking, but comforting. His hands rested on my waist and he pulled me a step closer.

His lips were soft and hesitant on mine. The electric current didn’t wane, instead it seemed to be stronger than before. It was better than what any potion could offer, or spell could conjure.

I had to pull away in fear that I might spend all night kissing him.

The situation around us settled back in, and though neither of us could keep the smiles off our faces it was Draco who spoke before I could.

“If anyone has anything they’d like to say, you’ll answer to both of us,” There was smugness and pride in his voice as he said ‘us.’

I couldn’t lie, I liked it too.

The crowd broke out into mutters and whispers, some of which were encouraging, some baffled, and some downright cruel—most of which came from either Gryffindor or Slytherin. My hand found Draco’s as an anchor in the midst of it all, not sure what was coming next.

Harry stormed off and Ron gave an apologetic look before going after him and Hermione followed suit. As much as I was alright on standing on my own, their absence hurt.

“Mr. Malfoy! Miss Lupine! My office! Now!” It was McGonagall.

My heart sank as the students scattered in fear of also getting in trouble for something that they may or may not have done. It left Draco and me alone walking to McGonagall’s office under her gaze. Somewhere along the way Snape caught up to us, and to my surprise, Dumbledore.

I gave Draco an apologetic look, but his face was a mask of calm and indifference—courage in the face of danger. I followed his lead as we sat in McGonagall’s office as the three discussed what to do with us outside the door.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was me? When we were on the stairs?” He asked softly.

I shrugged.

“I don’t think I was ready,” I admitted. “It was... a hard day.”

“Sorry again,” He mumbled sheepishly.

We sat side by side together, waiting for whatever was about to happen. I feared for the worst and I could tell do did Draco. The memory of his lips on mine however, kept me somewhat same and comforted.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this,” I whispered. “This is all my fault,” 

“No, it’s not Y/n. You know that,” He argued. “I had a good part in it too.”

“I should have just left it alone,” Tears were in my eyes as I started to realize the gravity of the situation.

“No,” He said firmly, catching my eyes. “You’re right, this has gone on too long.”

Again, his hand slipped into mine and I felt grounded. It was odd, finding comfort in someone that I had hated only a few months ago.

The three Professors came down and we dropped our hands quickly, as we both looked down.

“It has come to our attention that you two have caused quite a bit of trouble,” Dumbledore began.

“Please, sir. It was me. Not her.” Draco stood, taking a small step in front of me.

Shock flitted across the faces of the professors, and mine. I didn’t know what I was expecting but it wasn’t that.

“No, it was me. I’m the one who kissed him and provoked Harry.” I stood next to him, almost pushing him out of the way. “Whatever punishment... I’ll take it in full... even if that means expulsion.” My voice wavered as the words slipped out.

“Y/n,” Draco protested and turned to me.

“Your dad will kill you in you get in trouble because of me,” I argued. “And... I can’t let that happen. So... please, Draco,”

I didn’t know what I was asking for exactly, but I knew that if his father found out... he’d be in worse trouble than whatever the school could come up with.

“No, forget about my father. I don’t care what he thinks. You’re not talking all the fault. I won’t let you,”

I bit my lip, thousands of words wanting to escape them just as the tears that threatened to fall. Why hadn’t I seen this in him before? Why hadn’t anyone?

Draco Malfoy could be good. He could be selfless. He could be loved.

“If I may,” Dumbledore began again. “Neither of you are in trouble nor are you getting expelled.”

“What?” We both snapped, turning to the three professors.

Hope fluttered in my chest, that maybe once we would both be okay. That we could both make it out of here.

_______________________

Out in the hall...

“Has it happened?” Dumbledore asked. “The legacy?”

“Yes,” McGonagall confirmed. “I got a letter from her mother early Saturday to keep an eye out, and I saw it tonight at dinner.”

“You believe that these two are the ones to end the feud?” Snape asked cautiously.

“Something much darker than us all is coming Severus,” Dumbledore sighed. “And they might be the ones we need to stop it.”

“But I don’t understand why stopping an old family feud solves anything.” Snape hissed.

“Because it’s not a family feud, it’s a house feud and always has been. For too long Slytherin and Gryffindor have been pitched against one another unhealthily and perhaps this can right what has been wrong for so long,” McGonagall noted hopefully.

............................

“Miss Lupine, you should be expecting a letter from your mother soon. I suggest you both read it together and decide for yourselves whether you want to accept what is in it or not.” Dumbledore explained.

“What kind of letter?” I prompted and McGonagall gave me a scolding look as Dumbledore simply smile.

“Oh, you are so much like your mother,” His eyes twinkled. “Give her my best and please remember, each of you are more than a name,”

_________________________

Draco walked down the hall with you beside him. He couldn’t think of a thing to say. There were too many to say. There was too much to talk about and it was driving him mad that you were lost in thought.

“Any ideas on where to go? To read the letter?” You finally spoke.

Your voice sounded unsure and afraid, with a nervousness that came with expectation. He had never heard you speak like that. You were always so sure of yourself—courageous, like any proper Gryffindor.

But now, your eyes filled with tears and worry. Your arms were crossed across your chest, as if they had the ability to keep you together if you held on tight enough. He knew that you never showed anyone this side of you—not even that Mudb- your friend Hermione. Because he never showed anyone either.

“Come with me,” He said, not giving anything away and led you through the castle wordlessly.

You followed him without a protest, a quip, snide remark, or question. And he couldn’t lie, it was nice; it worried him too, being afraid wasn’t in your nature.

Taking a sharp right, he paused, opening the door for you. You quirked an eyebrow and a teasing smile. You knew where he led you and it amused you, he could see it in your features. That was the you he knew.

You ascended the staircase and through the trapdoor with him at your heels. You faltered one and he caught you easily—knowing it would happen: it was the reason he had made you go before him—your cheeks turning a deep red as you quickened your pace.

Alone in the Astronomy Tower, Draco saw a small screech owl awaiting the two of you, letter attached. It was the same owl who had given him your letter all those nights ago, it must be yours.

You didn’t go to the owl—even though it chirped at you annoyed. Instead, you went to the window and stared at what he did almost every night that he couldn’t sleep: the stars blanketed over the mountain range and the lake as night consumed the world around them.

Knowing that you would want to gaze for some time, he took the letter for the owl and shooed it off, but it remained.

“I’ll give you something later Penelope, thank you,” You cooed softly stroking the birds head gently before it flew off.

Unsure of his actions, Draco stood close beside you, watching the night unfold with you. Your hand found his and his thoughts about what needed to be answered or what the letter held paused. Your warmth invited him in, lured him to be still and just... feel.

“I’m scared,” The confession left your lips. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for my mother to tell me what this fight was all about and now...” You turned to him, true despair on your face.

“Whatever it is, we do it together,” He murmured, “Remember, we get to choose if we want to accept it or not,”

“But don’t we have to?” Your thoughts mirrored his: he had expectations to live up to and he wanted to prove himself to his father and his family.

“We’ll see,” He reached up and stroked your face softly.

You pursed your lips as he offered you the letter. You took it and with one last hopeless look to him you opened it and read it aloud:

~

My dearest Y/n, and charming Draco,

I hope this letter finds you both well. I have written to each of your House Heads letting them know to give you time to read this together if fate allows.

Y/n, my darling, please stop your fretting, I can feel it from here. You are alright no matter what you choose, but I do hope you choose the path of love.

Draco, hello, we haven’t met formally, but I must thank you for standing up for my daughter against one of your own house. It was a brave and kind thing to do and you have my deepest respect.

Now, about the feud. I know you have asked many times what it has always been about and perhaps it is time to finally tell you:

Our families have always been intertwined in the fate of the wizarding world as pure-blood families. Long ago, it was said that one of Lupine and one of Malfoy decent would be the ones to mend the rift between pure-bloods and muggle-born.

You can see why this caused such a feud. I’m sure even now Mr. Draco you are thinking that this is preposterous, and perhaps you as well my child. For how can two pure-bloods whom hate another possible med anything?

Well, no one knows. And no one wanted to know either. The Malfoy’s were always against muggle-born and swore vengeance on them all. The Lupine’s have always been proud and swore to never fraternize with a Malfoy. Centuries and generations passed, and our stories have been twisted and distorted to what you know today.

I did try my love to keep you away as best I could from it, but some things are very deep rooted, and I am sorry that I failed you. But now it comes to you two.

From what I have heard from you my darling, it sounds as if Mr. Draco may be the one you were meant for. It was once called Consentire Animi Pace—an old thought that souls reached for another to bring harmony in the world around them through magic.

I am not forcing this upon either you, nor am I making assumptions. I would just like you both to know that it does exist and not to deny that it does and that it may be what our Antiqui were speaking of when the legacy was given.

My darling Y/n, I am proud of you no matter your choice and I love you without a doubt. I am proud of your achievements and your courage to reach out to someone you had no reason to reach out to.

My dear Draco, I am proud of you no matter your choice and I extend my love to you as well. I know that your parents are not as forgiving when it comes to family names as I am. You will have a home in our family—whether that be Y/n and I or the entire family if they decide to stop being so... Anyway. I am proud of you as well and for what you have done. You had no reason to protect my daughter and you did and I am proud of you on that fact alone. You have truly exceeded your expectations, whether your father sees that or not.

Don’t not be afraid of what is before you nor the choices that you must make. It is not about the right choice; it is about the righteous one—the one made with the right heart. It is easier to correct ignorance rather than disobedience.

My love goes to you both, both of you write me back please. 

Love, Magdalene Lupine

~

.

.

Part 7

[missinghan]

back to me ⤖ han jisung

❖ genre : dynasty au; angst; fluff

❖ word count : 12,6k.

❖ warning : mentions of death & violence

❖ summary : you were supposed to avenge the fallen by taking the crown prince’s life but one wrong tug from fate and all your effort has gone to waste. 

❖ a/n : read chan’s spin-off here!

prologue.

Life can’t possibly get any worse for you, not when you meet the right person at the wrong time. 

When you’re too busy staring at the ground, this boy - who claims to be the crown prince of Goryeo - keeps asking General Bang if he can come out and play in the rain. As if he’s wondering what it feels like to stop time and walk through every single droplet, to suspend this watery gift from Mother Nature and peek through each one. As if he’s questioning what if he can sit inside of them, taking a gravity propelled ride. 

He smiles at you when he catches your intense stare, completely ignoring the fact that you might be judging him for his questionable demeanor for a royalty.

You don’t smile back. 

A guard hollers aloud, drawing a line with his sword above the crowd, “Make way for His Majesty!”

“Your Majesty, Your Majesty!” A woman shoves her way through the crowd full of people who are kneeling down on their knees, her eyes frantically peeking over the king’s shoulder. Finally, when she spots your shuddering figure next to the young prince, her eyes soften. “May I have a word with you?”

“Bow down, peasant—“

“Hush,” the king waves his hand dismissively. “Let’s see what she has to say.” And the guard scoffs, stomping away with his hand clutching onto his sword, his jaw clenched. 

The woman sighs in relief, getting down on one knee and explains calmly. “Your Majesty, my husband and I can barely make enough to eat but after some time of adapting and working hard, we’re sure that little Y/N can come and live with us instead.”

The king laughs lightheartedly and pats her shoulder, “That’s very kind of you,” and he scans around only to see everyone holding their breath, waiting for his next words. Once he’s determined to do something, it’s either going with the flow or having their head on a chopping block. They can’t even fathom how much courage this woman has mustered to speak up like that. “But I can assure you that—“

“Her father and mother were good people, Your Majesty,” she cuts him off almost coldly, cautious not to appear as discourteous because the last thing she needs is one of the guards running their swords right through her throat. “Do you have what it takes to raise this child? As your own? Will she be able to blend in with your people?”

“I-“

“Your Majesty, I’d hate to be disrespectful,” the woman’s tone grows louder, practically spitting into his face. “But we’ve known Y/N for her entire life. We know what’s best for her and we can manage to take care of her. She’s such a good child and deserves nothing but the best. And we don’t think it’s a good idea for you to—“

The king inhales sharply and clears his throat. The woman cowers almost immediately and the noises from the crowd go dead, knowing that she just messed with someone she shouldn’t. He turns around to see his son tugging the little girl by her sleeve, his eyes filled with concern and empathy. “She will only get the best with me,” the king snaps and the woman is shoved away by another guard, clearing the road ahead for him. 

“Let’s go,” the young prince grins at you brightly and somehow, manages to put a weak smile on your grim expression. Like a ray of sunshine on a rainy day, he outshines everyone else as if he’s glowing from within. “Your name is Y/N, right?” You only nod at that, feeling slightly suffocated in the black silky robe that they put you in earlier. “It sounds very pretty. My name is Jisung—“

“Come on, we don’t have much time left, Your Highness,” General Bang tells him firmly before tugging the both of you away from the village along with his own son. 

You surprise the royal family by staying relatively calm and unfazed throughout the burial ceremony, your expression only wavers slightly at the end when it finally hits you that they're really gone. Things are never gonna be the same again. And you’re determined to utterly destroy the royal bloodline so that they’ll know how it feels like to have a loved one taken away from them forever. 

You screw your eyes shut to prevent tears from spilling, holding your head low so that no one will be able to witness your vulnerability. But as you feel another pair of eyes on your back, you snap your head back on instincts and the young prince’s eyes hold yours. And they flit away just as quickly as when you meet his. 

The prince bites down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, the metallic smell making him cringe. His heart twists uneasily into a knot when he sees your shoulders shuddering. You lost your parents at such a young age and suddenly you’re being pulled into a place full of people that you don’t know with rules that you’re not supposed to be tied down with. You didn’t choose this life, yet you’re staying strong and trying so hard not to break down in front of all these strangers. He’s never felt his heart so heavy before, and he wishes he could do something to make you feel better. 

“Go,” Chan, the General’s son nudges him with his elbow. “Don’t just stand there,”

“What?”

“Go, she needs you,” the older boy encourages him. “She knows no one here, and you were holding her hand back there, I think she might feel less ashamed to cry in front of you.” 

The prince mentally thanks his friends with his eyes before walking over to you, a gentle hand on your quivering figure. “Hey,” he says softly, only to be met with your wide, teary eyes. “It’s okay, I promise.”

“I-“ you choke out, breaths coming in short as your heart continues to shatter inside your chest capacity. “I’m not- I’m not crying, I’m really not,”

He shakes his head and squeezes your shoulders in reassurance. “It’s okay, to cry. I can protect you, no matter what.”

“No! Don’t touch me!” You yelp stubbornly, you’re not giving into a stupid damn prince just because he has a cute smile. “I’m okay- I’m okay, it’s just-“

“Y/N!” The prince shouts unintentionally and immediately regrets it when you take a step back. “I mean it when I said that I’d protect you. Just cry, it’s okay.”

You sniffle, “You’ll protect me no matter what?” 

“Always.” And he nods. “You have my word.”

“But why?”

He smiles at you fondly, “I just feel like I have to,” your heart skips a beat, out of impulse when he gives your shoulders a squeeze of reassurance. “I’m not crazy, I know in my heart, that it’s right.” 

Then, the dam finally breaks. Before he knows it, you’re already throwing yourself at him, your arms wrapped around his neck as you cry into his chest, tears streaming down on your cheeks uncontrollably. All he did was smile and your heart is already going on a rampage. You can’t believe that you’re crying into the crown prince’s embrace, whose life you’ve sworn to take when you get older. 

You don’t think you’ll ever forget this moment. 

one.

Chaos. Solitude. Fresh air. 

Every once in a while you would drink in the atmosphere, the aromas of the local market like elixir, far different from the suffocation inside the palatial and magnificent palace. A lost child wails for his mother, a man frantically looking for his missing bag, shopkeepers screaming at the top of their lungs, throwing out offers left and right while customers are shoving and pushing each other to bargain for the best price possible. It’s practically impossible to even find an empty stall. Though you don’t thrive on interacting with the stallholders, you can feel the lively aura and the raw happiness in their eyes despite not having much. 

But the moment you step foot onto the gritty stone surface, the smiles fall from their faces as though you’re Death’s incarnate, disgusted whispers along with hushed gossips spread like wildfire. You’re used to it, sadly, because if you were them, you’d probably hate yourself too. You’re merely nothing but a child from an average family, your parents could barely make enough to eat and then suddenly one day, you got to live inside those cold, monumental walls of the royalties, enjoying some of the delicacies that the higher class has to offer. They have every right to detest you, and you accept that. 

You raise a brow when a little girl brushes past you, pushing you a little too harshly for your liking. You shake your head in disapproval and brush it off as normal behavior for a kid but soon, you realize something doesn’t feel right. Your pouch of money is missing. 

Eyes grow alarmed, you easily spot the tiny figure weaving herself through the crowds, edging through the dense flow of people and easily slipping away without catching any attention. A sly little thief. But she can’t get far considering how you know this town like the back of your hand. It’s still the same, not very tranquil or quaint, especially when spring is coming along and everyone’s too busy preparing for the upcoming festival. 

Soon enough, you find yourself in a dark alleyway - it’s like a completely separate realm from the outer world. It’s nothing but the eerie silence, darkness and the sour relics of thrown away vegetables along with something as disgusting as dead animals. As you walk between the walls that are too high for you to seek for any source of light, your nose scrunches up and your eyes narrow down into a glare. A weak beam of sunlight casts your shadow over the ground like painting black on the deepest shade of charcoal, and soon it bleeds out. 

“You’re a fast runner,” From your lips, a sharp warning slips out, not as much of a threat but it’s all the scarier when the narrow space is oddly quiet. “But not quite fast enough.”

The little thief slumps against the wall, murmuring, seemingly uninterested. “What do you want from me?”

You immediately grit, anger flickering at the back of your eyes, “You have what belongs to me. And I’m gonna need it back.”

“No can do,” she responds in a rather calm demeanor, almost sarcastically. “It’s mine now.”

Her expression remains unfazed even when you take a few steps forward, mere inches from her tiny figure. “It’s not right, to do what you just did. I don’t want to hurt you either,” you try to explain calmly though your insides are seething with nothing but pure rage. You never knew a child can tick you off so easily when the enemies don’t. “So just give it back, and I’ll get you home. Where are your parents?”

“What’s not right? Stealing? Then what am I supposed to do? We barely have three meals per day thanks to people like you. Moreover, my parents don’t care about me.”

“Don’t say that,” you shake your head. “I’m sure that no matter what, they’ll still love you very much.”

She counters and your heart freezes for a split second, “What do you know about family?” It’s no surprise to everyone here that you’re an orphan, a damn lucky orphan on that note. 

You kneel down to match her eyes’ level and sigh deeply, “Now, watch your next words very carefully, kid,” and she scoffs at you as if a subtle ‘what if I don’t’ is being hinted at you. “I’m a very bad person, okay, I’m barely the age of your parents but I’ve killed twice as many people. And I don’t want little boys and girls like you to follow my bloodied traces.”

“So you’re not happy inside the palace?”

“I wouldn’t say so,” you smile bitterly. “It’s just that, pain is an old friend.”

A single footstep rings through your eardrums and your hand automatically reaches for the dagger in your pocket as you grab the uninvited guest by the neck, slamming their skull to the wall. You’ve done this motion so many times that you can’t even count, your muscles just move on their own. You can physically see them gulp in hesitation, the corners of their mouth twitching when your blade misses them by a strand of hair. From underneath their black hood, you’re met with a pair of doe eyes, and an audible gasp leaves your lips. “What-“ you drop your weapon momentarily, “Your Highness, what are you doing outside all by yourself?”

“Care to explain what you are doing here without the guards then?”

“Your Highness? Guards?” The little girl questions with her brows knitted together. And you mentally facepalm yourself. No one’s supposed to know if the prince wants to sneak out of the palace. 

Jisung takes off his hood and frowns at you furiously, tucking a strand of hair to the back of your ear. “I was looking everywhere for you, Minho said you were practicing with Chan but he’s going on a work trip with his father for the following days. So I sneaked out by myself, I need to talk to you.” To your dismay, betting your trust on Minho was a horrendous mistake, mostly because he’s not that good at lying. Not like you have anyone else to cover you up when Chan’s not here. 

“You shouldn’t be outside by yourself!”

He immediately whines, “Why? I’m not a kid!”

“You’re not, but you sure act like one,” you quirk a brow. “Careless, whiny, and not to mention, Chan had to spend the night with you whenever there are thunderstorms.” 

“I was practically a child!”

You assert slyly, “Why yes, a child who decapitated his grandfather’s statue instead of practicing properly.” And you’re also quick to change the topic, you don’t have much time left for this seemingly never-ending conversation, “Aren’t you supposed to be by your father’s side the entire day? Didn’t he ask you to help him with resolving the mess in court?” You ignore the way your heart is hammering deep down, and try to counter as indifferently as possible. 

He grabs you by the wrist and your heart dips in your chest cavity. “I sneaked out, obviously,” he rolls his eyes to the moon. “For the love of God, Y/N, you need to tell me what you are doing. Why are you here? And who’s this?”

“I don’t know. This little brat stole my money and now I’m stuck with her!”

The little thief exclaims as if you just insulted her, “I’m not deaf!”

Jisung regains his composure and says firmly, “Y/N, I really, really need to talk to you.” 

“That can wait,” you whisper harshly, warm breath fanning his face. The prince’s breath hitches in his throat when he realizes how close you are, and his stomach turns every time your nose brushes over his. “I need to bring you back to the palace before sunset or His Majesty is going to ask for my head.”

The girl raises her brow, “Uhm, I’d hate to interfere, but don’t you think you ought to look out for that?”

Immediately, your hand clasps firmly onto her mouth when the other is on Jisung’s, he struggles to form a proper sentence, squirming but you don’t bother to move an inch when all you can focus on is the rather familiar voices of the guards you went through training with since little, their heavy footsteps scratching against your nerves. You can’t afford them seeing you with the crown prince outside the palace, along with a suspicious-looking little girl. 

As soon as they’re long gone, blended into the sea of people, you let go with a long exhale. Jisung exchanges wordless stares with you and you notice how his cheeks are slightly flushed, almost like he’s blushing before he averts his gaze, finding a sudden interest in the pile of garbage in the dark alleyway. You clear your throat before outstretching one of your hands towards the girl, “Come on now, do I look to be in a gaming mood?”

“Fine,” she grumbles and fishes your pouch of money out from her pocket, dropping it into the palm of your hand. “But you’re gonna have to do me a favor.”

You roll your eyes, reluctantly nodding. I’m never having kids. 

As if on cue, her stomach rumbles loudly and she tilts her head to the side, “I’m kinda hungry..”

two.

You’ve never really considered Manwoldae Palace your home, it still feels as though you’re an outcast whenever you’re walking along the pavements at night, or when you’re gazing listlessly at the moon from your quarters. You often stare at the astronomy tower where the royal astrologists spend most of their time analyzing and studying the alignment of each constellation, making sure that everything stays in their respective positions. Hence, your curiosity for astrology naturally grows over time because you feel like no one knows your concerns and struggles like the stars above. 

More than ten years of training to be a part of the royal military regime definitely shaped the skills and deadly techniques that you possess right now. The idea of the royal family’s safety being top tier priority has been etched to your mind like it’s been there all along. Sometimes you feel used, as if they’re just taking your skills to their advantage, seeing you as nothing but a weapon for their own good. But then again, you’ve learned not to bite the hand that feeds you. 

And it’s not like you have anywhere else to go.

Minho follows your footsteps when you exit his private palace grimly, “Don’t fuss over this! You know better than to hold grudges.”

“You had one job! One damn job!” You throw your hands up and pry out of frustration. “What a tremendous idea. Let’s tell Jisung that I’m training with Chan, who’s obviously going on a work trip with his father. Absence announcements exist for a reason! Did you think that Jisung wouldn’t know just because he’s always busy with conducting court affairs? It’s brilliant, it’s truly brilliant.”

“Then what was I supposed to say? That you’re dead?” The physician immediately puts his hands up when you turn around, the tip of your dagger slightly hovering over his throat. “It’s not my fault you’re overly fond of sneaking outside! Don’t you think if you weren’t acting so stubbornly and hot-headed all the time then this wouldn’t have happened?” he yelps.

You retract your weapon with a scoff, tucking it into your back pocket, “Since when am I stubborn? And hot-headed?” With every word, you jab your index finger towards him, irritation bubbling up under your skin like fire. Okay, maybe he’s not entirely wrong. 

“How did you two get back safely anyway?” Minho questions, curiosity sparkling in his brown eyes. 

And you internally grimace at the thought, shaking your head profusely. “I don’t think you would want to know.”

“Y/N— ow!“ Jisung whimpers. 

“Not a word, Your Highness, not a word.”

“The guards are always on duty! They are everywhere!”

You grumble as a reply, “Thank you for the information, I’m very much aware,” As he continues to complain about one too many reasons and ways that you two will be caught, you’re already done with tying his hands to his back with some rope that you found at the market. “Stay still, would you?”

“They’re gonna report this to my father if we fail, why can’t we just walk in like how we do normally?” Jisung squirms in discomfort at the restraints on his wrists when you fix the hood on his head until it’s low enough to cover the upper half of his face. “He might banish me!”

You make a face of disapproval, “In what world would my plan work out if you kept being so yappy and loud?”

“You might be executed for this, Y/N!”

“Now you’re just exaggerating, I’ve arrested plenty of bad people by myself before. It shouldn’t be too suspicious,” you shake your head and chuckle, your knuckles hovering over on the intricate wooden door. “You’ll thank me later.”

“Are you mad?!”

“Possibly,” you give him a slight smirk. “If it were easy, anyone would have done it.”

Minho puts a hand over his mouth and gasps monotonously, “Well done, you literally scared the living daylights out of the crown prince. No wonder..” You look at him, confused when he trails off and an imminent spark of fear ignites at the pit of your stomach. Jisung is still okay, right? “Apart from a poor appetite, he has also been struggling with insomnia, and it seems as though his mood’s been dampened these days as a result of not having you by his side.”

There’s absolutely nothing to diagnose, he’s ridiculous. “You know,” you force out a fake smile, one that you always give people at the market when they unintentionally step on your toes. “I’m suddenly having the urge to run my sword through your pretty little mouth, is that concerning or not?”

“Very,” he gulps and takes a step back cautiously. Regardless of his joy in spatting unnecessary commentary at you, he knows not to tick you off because clearly, he’s the one at a disadvantage when it comes to fighting here. 

Lee Minho has been studying pharmacology and medicine for almost his entire life. Trained by only the best of the best physicians inside the palace to save humans’ lives. Healing people is all that he’ll ever know. It’s not very surprising as to why you two would detest each other to a degree at some point because your daily tasks alone have explained a lot. 

“But would you actually kill me? If you had the chance to?”

You’re caught off guard at that, your witty retort growing dead in your throat and your spine goes tense. “One more word and I’ll—“

“...run your sword through my mouth?” He cuts you off with a soft chuckle, venom dripping from his voice “Surely there’s an evident line after that. You don’t think that I’m stupid, do you? A child, whose parents were ruthlessly murdered, and the king wanted to make it up to them by raising you in the palace. They might not notice it, but I can see right through you, Y/N. Your anguish and rage reek off so heavily every time I see you, I almost feel like I am being suffocated.” Little by little, the exasperation snakes its hands around your neck and chokes you, you want to shout, throw a tantrum and slam your throbbing head against the wall. Is he testing you?

“You’re ready now, more than you’ll ever be. Considering the fact that Jisung’s coronation is coming up, there’s your perfect chance to get your revenge. On all of us,” Minho sees all the colors drain from your face, your fists curled and cold beads of sweat trickling down on your temple, but he can’t seem to stop taunting you. “Isn’t this what you want? To end this once and for all? Aren’t you tired of fighting with one arm tied behind your back? Or being their little puppet? Taking one life after another every day for them? What are you waiting for? When the prince is dead, you can run, run away and never return. It’s for the lesser evil-“

His words come out as incoherent as ever when your fingers are gripping on his throat, threatening to crush his windpipe. His lungs greedily gasp for air as you back him up against the wall harshly, the inferno inside of you burn his ability to talk back into ashes. You didn’t want this, you didn’t want to vent it all out, but it’s just so simple to be cruel at that moment, and all he’s doing is adding fuel to the fire. He’s just making it easier for you to end his life. 

“Evil is evil,” your dark gaze sends chills down on his spine, and Minho can physically feel his legs growing weak. “Lesser or not, it’ll do either party no good. I’m not going to kill anyone, yet. But if you keep being so irritating, I can’t promise you’ll be seeing tomorrow’s daylight.” You pinpoint your words very carefully, releasing the hand on his throat. He immediately falls to the ground, coughing furiously into the sleeve of his robe. 

“Why?” He stubbornly asks even when his vocal cords are cracking from the pressure that you applied, “What made you change your mind? Why not kill us?”

Your stare tears right through his soul as you speak for yourself loud and clear, conflict twisting into a knot inside your stomach, “Because if then, I will be what they want me to become, a heartless weapon. I am not heartless, I just learned how to use my emotions less, for the better.”

Minho leans his head back against the brick wall, laughing breathlessly, “So it’s true,” you narrow your eyes at him, unsure of what he’s trying to say. “You do love him.” Your eyes widen in horror. He did all of this, getting cuts on your edges just to clarify the feelings that you have for Jisung that even you are uncertain of. 

“You—“

“Y/N,” Jeongin, the eunuch props his hands onto his knees after running towards the west gate, gasping for air. “The king wishes to see you.”

three.

Feet firmly planted on the grass, you exhale deeply before fluttering your eyes upwards to glare at the night sky. Defiant and irksome in your eyes. The seemingly harmless stars are looking down at you almost mockingly. You see absolutely no empathy, no sense of responsibility, no fairness in the everlasting black canvas that puts everyone to sleep every night. 

A familiar figure enters the garden and you hastily get down on one knee, daring not to look straight into their eyes. “Your Majesty, my respects,” you say firmly, maintaining your position. The king gently places a hand on your shoulder wordlessly, tugging on it slightly as an attempt to pull you upright. But you refuse to do so, shaking your head. 

“Y/N, there’s no need to be so formal anymore, we’re practically family,” says the king, followed by a soft chuckle. 

Your head starts throbbing uncontrollably at his words. Family. You try hard not to let your features twist in exasperation, knuckles turning white from how tightly you’ve been balling your fists. “I’m not worthy of Your Majesty addressing me as ‘family’. Please take it back,” you voice croaks at the end as you swallow the lump in your throat. 

The word endlessly echoes in your cloudy mind, making you dizzy as it slips through your walls, sinking into your heart. A bitter taste rises and creeps onto your tongue when you try to speak, so you simply stay quiet. You were taken away from your family on your tenth birthday, initially being forced to work for the royal family as a maiden after your parents’ death. But the general saw how much potential you had while joining a made-up sword combat battle with his son and decided to take you under his wing and into training. 

You grew up fast and so did your skills. You’re now one of the astutest and most trustworthy members of the military regime, exclusively permitted to stay by the crown prince’s side in order to protect his life at all costs. Little did they know, you’ve sworn to take the prince’s life one day since you first stepped foot into the palace. You wanted them to witness the light going out in his eyes as he took his last breath so that they'd know how you felt that day, how agony tore you apart, piece by piece. A taste of their own medicine as they let a wolf into the fold. 

Blinded by extreme hatred and malevolence, you’re utterly terrified when slowly, that distasteful feeling in your chest has turned into something else. Something that isn't supposed to be here. Moreover, you’ve developed a particularly strange kind of feeling towards the crown prince. Unfortunately. 

The king says softly. “Do you know why I demanded your presence then?” 

“I don’t know why, Your Majesty,” you answer after regaining your composure. “But I will take full responsibility for what I’ve potentially done wrong.”

“You did nothing wrong, my dear,” he tells you with a fatherly smile. “My son is going to go on a trip to one of our alliances’ kingdom, and I can’t possibly think of anyone else to escort him there safely.”

“May I ask what is the purpose of His Highness’s trip, Your Majesty?”

The king merely smiles and sighs, the tone in his voice unfathomable. “Ah, you see,” he coughs into the sleeve of his robe that’s made of the finest kind of material, struggling to keep his words firm. “I can’t stay- forever, so I figure his coronation- should take place as soon as possible. And it has also come to my attention that it’s time for him to find a queen.” 

And your heart drops to the pit of your stomach, your whole world suddenly turns upside down. 

four. 

Jisung falls flat onto his face, fists clenching as he manages to push himself up by his forearms not long after, blowing the sweaty strands of hair to prevent them from sticking to his face.

“Your Highness,” you heave, breaths coming in short as you support yourself onto your knees, your heart rate increasing by the nanosecond. “You can take a break if I’m exhausting you, there’s no need to act tough,” you almost hiss through gritted teeth, a strange glint flashing in your eyes. And then it’s gone before he can even make out what it is. 

The prince laughs in amusement, cocking his head to the side. “Are you okay, Y/N? You seem a little...” he swallows thickly before continuing. “..on edge today.”

You shake your head and crane your neck tiredly, sighing when your muscles pop. “I’ve never felt better, Your Highness,” you grimace when he finally picks himself up from the ground, chest falling and rising at a consistent pace. “May I ask why you’re concerned about my current condition?”

He doesn’t respond and instead throws himself at you, fist curled into a punch. It’s inevitable, he’s too predictable at this point. You duck and drive an uppercut low into his flesh, right below his belly button. The blow stings, but he barely notices when it forces a gasp out of his lips. His body staggers backward and he falls on his back, coughing furiously on the concrete surface. 

You brush some of the dust off your clothes, wiping the sweat away on your eyebrows and let out a soundless chuckle. “Your Highness, here, allow me,” you outstretch one of your hands and what happens next gives you no time to register or react properly. 

Jisung grabs a fistful of dust and tosses it towards your direction when he sees how you’re offering him a hand. You immediately use your forearm as a shield to protect your eyes. And in those vulnerable moments, as you’re distracted, he sweeps a hand under your legs so that you’ll fall hard on the ground, sending more dust into the air. He easily topples himself over and braces himself on his forearms, securing you beneath his figure in a matter of seconds. 

“Y/N,” he says between labored breaths, “I thought we’ve had a discussion on this topic. You are allowed to call me by my name, you officially have my consent. Why are you so damn stubborn?”

You only huff at that, puffing your cheeks out in annoyance. And he thinks you look ridiculously adorable, like a child. “To inform you, we did have the discussion but I refused to address you as your name because, well, I’d rather not have my head chopped off for disrespecting the prince.” You tell him firmly, but still unable to look him dead in the eye. The image of the fearless, empowering warrior has been stripped to a bare minimum when his doe eyes map out your delicate features. 

In his eyes, you’re just Y/N. The little girl who his father brought into the palace, who’s supposed to be a maid as many others but went through tough, resilient training under the general’s wing at a young age. The childhood friend who told him that sometimes, putting others’ well being before his own is something that he should know and embrace. You’re the one who spent plenty of sleepless nights by his side when he’s having difficulties with studying. He’d lean on your shoulder as you read a scroll aloud, his eyes growing heavier and heavier until he completely dozed off. 

But in yours, he’s still the crown prince, the one who will have the entirety of this kingdom within the grasp of his palm someday. You’re nothing more but a lowly servant to him for the time being. At some point, you won’t be in his life anymore. 

“That was years ago,” you scoff. “And also, you cheated.”

“Of course I did, a man needs to do what he has to in order to win,” Jisung claims with a bright smile, one that you haven’t seen in a fairly long time. It tickles something in the pit of your stomach and heat flares through your nostrils, sprinkling a shade of coral on the apples of your cheeks. He’s so breathtaking even when there are dirt and sweat on his features, they’re not enough to cover up his beauty. 

You roll your eyes as an attempt to ignore the rouge on your cheeks, “Would you care to tell me what you’re trying to win then, Your Highness? Since you always look so determined to defeat me in person-to-person combat.” 

“Your heart,” he answers with absolutely no hesitation, a spark igniting at the back of his orbs when you stare at him with wide eyes. He can see right through you without making an effort, and all you want to do is to bury yourself alive. You hate how he can make your legs weak with something as simple as a slight glance. 

“Is it because of my father? What did he say?”

“He said nothing,” you look away. “I simply quit. Chan will be responsible for your safety from now on.”

“What do you mean you quit? You do realize that there’s a village full of notorious killers and thieves on the way there right?” 

You reply bitterly because he’s talking to a murderer without even knowing it, “I’m not going to escort you to the alliance’s kingdom,” and your heart cracks a bit when the stars in his eyes fade away in disappointment. “I’m sorry, but I quit.”

“So are you jealous? Of my marriage?” Jisung voices sadly, and with every word, he feels as though someone is repeatedly stabbing his chest with a knife, desired to carve out his heart with their bare hands. “Is that why you’ve been acting strange this whole time? Is that why you’re avoiding me these past few days, why you refused to escort me to the alliance’s kingdom? Is that why—“

You cut him off with a cold tone, eyes threatening to water. “Your Highness, I think you and I are both mature enough to know where the line is drawn. I really hope you won't ever cross it. It’s better off this way. Soon enough, you and your future queen will be—“

Wordlessly, he inches closer and seals the gap between your lips and his. Goosebumps bubble up on the surface of your skin when he angles his face to deepen the soft kiss, warm breath brushing over your cheek constantly. You’re slow to reciprocate it but give in when his hands gently lift your head up, caressing you like you’re the most fragile thing in this world. His everything is finally wrapped around his fingers, and he’s never gonna let you go. Not in this lifetime. Not even in the next ones. 

“Can’t you be my queen?”

He breaks the kiss and stares deeply into your eyes, looking for an answer behind the stoic facade that you've been keeping up for so long. Suddenly tears pool in your eyes and flow down on your cheeks, percolating through the flushed surface. His smile falters when you hold onto his robe so tightly that your knuckles start turning white. 

Because of him, you’ve learned to not drown yourself in revenge and dwell on the past. Because of him, you’ve found the other missing half of yourself so that you won’t feel so isolated in this solitary world. But your love for him is more than enough to let him go. 

“I can’t, and I won’t.” 

“After all this time, did everything mean nothing to you? Did I mean nothing to you? Was it all just a lie? After everything we’ve gone through? Tell me that it’s not,” Jisung takes your hand in his, wiping your tears away endearingly.

“If you’re asking me have I ever seen you as something more than just the prince, then no,” You simply shake your head, “But if you’re asking me whether everything was just a lie, then I can’t answer that.”

Because a love big enough to willingly let go is the greatest love of them all.

 five.

Your tired figure storms out of your respective quarters as soon as Hyunjin informs you that Jisung is urgently in need of your presence. It’s almost his bedtime and you’re utterly alarmed that someone’s intruded the palace and intended to hurt him. He is the rightful heir of the throne, after all, the person who will lead and bring the kingdom to success. It’s not surprising or the first time someone’s tried to take his life. But you’re never gonna let that happen. 

“Your Highness, did something happen?” You bust through the paper-lined door abruptly with a hand already reaching for your weapon, the handle of Chan’s sword feels foreign at your touch. “Are you okay?” Concern is evident in your tone as you dart your eyes from one place to another, looking for anything suspicious. Aren’t guards supposed to barge in by now too?

But your arrival is only met with the prince waiting patiently for you at his ebony table, calmly reading one of his scrolls as if nothing’s happened. “Ah, you came,” he simply smiles at you and waves you over, signaling you to join him with whatever he’s dealing with. “Come here.”

The grip on the handle of the sword falls and your jaw almost drops to the floor. “What? I don’t understand-“

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t spend the whole day with you,” he cuts you off shyly while scratching the nape of his neck. And when you briskly walk over to his workspace, his starry eyes sparkling under the dimmed candles, taking the breath right out of your lungs. “Father wanted me to join him in conducting court affairs so I can learn a thing or two. Hence, I wasn’t able to see you at all.” 

You tilt your head to the side in confusion, your brows furrowed. What is he so sorry for? “So you’re not hurt?” You grab either side of his face out of instinct, checking it in every angle possible as your eyes search for any injuries, even just something as small as a tiny scratch on the prince’s face can alert the entire palace. 

Jisung shakes his head and peels your head away with ease, making direct eye contact with you. Again, you make a grave mistake by staring deeply into the cosmos in his warm orbs, floating inside his nebula softly. You don’t think the thoughts have ever occurred to you before but you truly adore his smile to the moon and back. How his cheeks bunched up, how his eyes crinkle and how it showcases his perfectly white teeth. Something stirs the inside of your chest whenever he does something as simple as grinning at you playfully during practice. And you know the reason behind that very well, you just can’t bring yourself to accept it. 

“No,” he tuts with a jut of his bottom lip. “I just wanted to see you.” 

You almost gawk at that, wide-eyed expression as you draw yourself back from his grasp on your hands. “You what?!” And when he just gives his shoulders a sheepish shrug, your blood is practically boiling and the heat starts rising to your cheeks. He’s absurd. Hyunjin’s absurd. All of this is absurd. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you yet you still called me in at this hour?! And what for?!” You scream out your anger at the top of your lungs, deciding to drop the formalities for once when you’re already trying too hard to not...end his life, in which you’ve sworn an oath to protect it as long as your existence still grazes the surface of this planet. 

How ironic. 

The crown prince of Goryeo is rather childish...and irrational, a stark contrast to what you’ve been told by the elders back when you’re still living in your small hometown. They said children at your age in the palace were strictly forced into the perfect molds so that when they grew older, they would lead the country to a future as ‘perfect’ as the standards that the previous generations swore by. 

The prince is full of flaws, he is flawed, to begin with. He talks too fast and throws too many nonsense tantrums after getting to know someone, he has the tenacity of a five-year-old, and he stares at his own reflection one too many times a day. But that’s what makes him who he is today, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You don’t wanna admit it, but he is perfectly imperfect. 

“I already told you,” a playful grin lingers on his lips, but that only makes your face morph deeper into a frown. He’s usually not this annoying or irritating so it’s starting to get on your nerves. You just hope that you won’t end up strangling him tonight. “I wanted to see you, because I missed you,” the prince tells you in a nonchalant tone, amused by how the coral shade on your cheeks isn’t fading away. 

Jisung continues with a smile, “And also because it’s your birthday.”

“Huh?”

It's what?

Your mind slowly processes the simple sentence that just escaped his lips like it’s solving a conundrum of some sort and you widen your eyes almost immediately. It is your birthday. How could you forget? It’s a shame to say that you spend days and nights mostly with Chan and the military regime, dedicating years after years of your youth to learn all of these skills as a compulsory service for the royal family so that your head is as cold as ice and your heart is as stern as a rock. You’re obligated to do anything and everything that they demand, every task must be done neatly and effectively, only so will they be satisfied. Anything and everything. And murders are no exception. 

Failure? Mistakes? Not an option. 

It’s twisted, to a degree, yes. But most of the murdering cases you have taken are aimed at people who truly deserve it. It feels as if you’re doing karma’s job, making them pay for what they have done, for the crimes and sins they have committed. Though that doesn’t mean you have never touched innocent people before. So such things as birthdays are unnecessary and almost annoying in your mindset. 

“I have something for you,” Jisung’s soft voice brings you back to reality. And before you know it, he’s already pulled you to the very back of the courtyard by the wrist. You, him and Chan used to come here every day after your studies or practices, just lying comfortably on the grass with the iridescent moonlight beaming down at you. The three of you used to laugh here, messing around with each other as normal kids should be. Although those moments happened very rarely and hurriedly, you know that you’d never trade them for anything else. 

He tells you when you both lean yourselves against the ugly tree that’s been there since forever and clasps his hands together excitedly, “Close your eyes,”

“If you’re gonna give me flowers again—“

“That was one time! One time!”

You allow your eyelids to drop nonetheless because that way, he wouldn’t know that you’re rolling your eyes at him, “And the only few things that I’m allergic to in this world are flowers.”

“Y/N, this is me trying to prove to you that I really do care about you, okay?” His words tug at your heartstrings and you flinch slightly as he places something cool into the palm of your hand. “You can take a look now.” 

You open your eyes and gasp when you see the most delicate, and elegant silver hair brooch you’ve ever seen. There’s a lotus with dangling tassels on the end, minimal yet detailed jewels are embedded very carefully onto every single petal. This is so incredibly thoughtful of him, not only remembering your birthday but also taking consideration in preparing you a present. It warms your heart knowing that he’s serious with his feelings, that he isn’t just playing around like the other guys in court. “Jisung,” you breathe out as light as a feather. “This is beautiful...but I can’t take it.”

“Nonsense,” the prince shakes his head, squeezing your shoulders. “I’m quite certain you’d look pretty with it. Don’t you like it?”

“No, I- I love it,” you utter every word with clear difficulties as he stares straight into your soul. He really needs to stop before you do something you’re gonna regret. “But I’ll probably never have the chance to wear this even..” You look down at the piece of accessory in your hand and your eyes flicker upwards when he gently closes your palm shut, the silver material cool against your skin and his fingers warm over your burning flesh. 

He starts to lean in, inching closer with every word, “With or without it, you’re still the prettiest in my—“

“Y/N! There you are!”

Jisung immediately clears his throat and pulls away with flaming cheeks upon the new arrival of the unwanted guest. You snap your head back at the owner of the cheerful voice to find Chan carrying your sword and waving at you with his free hand. The eye bags under his eyes seem to be less noticeable whenever he’s in a good mood. Clearly. He always shows up so timely, and it doesn’t help when you’re already so confused and conflicted with your own feelings. 

“Woojin is done with my sword already?” You quickly dismiss how the prince is murmuring curse words at his friend while his eyes are surprisingly interested in the veiny and bumpy bark of the tree. 

Chan nods, “Yep,” he tosses you the weapon and you quickly catch it with one hand due to natural reflex, sliding it out of the leather sheath. “He even tried to put together a little surprise.” 

You’re in awe at how the blacksmith has attentively carved out your name on the blade, every detail is sharp and nicely done. And the blood from your previous...work trips has been scrubbed away completely as if the beauty of this weapon has never been tampered with. You almost feel bad for his other customers just because he always puts you over the rest with ease. “This is so sweet of him,” with a smile on your face, you slide it back into the leather cover. “Tell him that I’ll treat him something next time.”

“But it was my idea,” Chan pouts and says in a whiny tone while the prince is still sending death glares his way. “Oh, was I interrupting something?”

“Yes you—“

You immediately interject, “Oh nothing! Nothing at all!” But then again, Chan’s not dumb and you’re not very good at faking things. And also, Jisung definitely doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. 

“I was gonna kiss her!” He pries out loud and you clasp a hand onto his mouth almost immediately, trying way too hard to keep a straight face. You hope someone accidentally pours cold water in his bath later on.

Chan sends you both a greasy smile, “Please do so,” and you hope Woojin snaps his sword in half the next time he asks for a checkup. “It’ll be quite a scene to watch. And I won’t mind at all, it should be fun to inform His Majesty about this.”

“Did you just threaten me?” You huff and cross your arms. 

Jisung snorts involuntarily, “Did you just deny that you hate my kiss?”

“I hate it as much as I hate both of you.”

Chan simply chuckles at that before squishing your cheeks together, “You can curse me as you please but you’ll never hate him. You’re far too busy loving him, where’s the time to even give him a taste of your hatred?”

“Whenever my wrists are itching for a punch,” you yank his hands away and say harshly, but apparently, he isn’t intimidated by it at all. “Or when he’s practicing with me, just like the other day when I—“

“Alright alright, that’s not me!”

“It is you, Your Highness, I know what a little girl sounds like.”

Instead of continuing with this brainless banter, Chan decides to pull the both of you into a tight headlock, and lungs-crushing embrace, “Now now, you two, come here. Hugs make everything better,” he claims with a dimpled smile, which is responded with an eye roll from the prince and a small giggle from you. 

“It still doesn’t change the fact that we both hate you,” the prince mumbles. 

You can’t possibly imagine your life without these two by your side. 

six.

In the serenade of the black velvet sky lies a choir of stars, singing in the infinite pattern to soothe the humans’ souls. As strange as it sounds, the eyes are in need of music every now and then too. Especially when all Chan witnesses on a daily basis consists of casualties and guards yelling at some random villagers on the streets. The job’s tedious, he thinks, how guards think they can step on others so easily when they’re merely just parasites living off the royal family’s trust and ignorance. 

You hold back the urge to spit in the guard’s face, “Don’t touch me.” He quickly backs off, cowering behind everyone else until Chan dismisses them with a wave of his hand, boredom laced in his brown eyes. And coldly, “What?” You almost kick yourself for sounding more nervous than you’ve intended to. 

“You know,” Chan keeps his back against you, speaking softly. “I thought it was strange for some thief to rescue the slaves that are being traded in the black market. And how that single thief managed to take down our guards too. Something just feels...off,” he fondly peeks over his shoulders with a dimpled smile. “I should have known that it’s you.”

The slight amusement in his tone makes your heart flinch in a split second. Even the moon looks like it’s judging you, its delicate light illuminating the land beneath, watching over mundane mortals like you every night. Such dominance and fluorescence can’t be hidden even by the dull, creeping clouds floating endlessly on the starless sky. Right now, it feels like the eye of the Devil is piercing right through your soul, a damned being. 

Chan turns around when you don’t respond, exhaling a sigh with a hand on your shoulder. “Look, I know that you’re upset-“

“I’m not upset!” You unknowingly snap at him, chest heaving up and down when anger flares through your nostrils. But you’re quick to be taken aback by your own action. “I’m sorry, I- I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, it’s just-“

Chan muffles your words by pulling you into a tight, brotherly hug. One that makes you want to strip off the facade you’ve been keeping up with for so long and just let your tears flow down on your cheeks until your heart stops aching. He always knows what’s inside your head and never fails to think in your shoes. “There there,” he pats your head as an attempt to comfort you. “Hugs make everything better, right?”

You mumble into the crook of his neck, “What are you talking about?”

“I know that you like Jisung,” you widen your eyes at that, a bitter taste rising in your throat. “And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.”

“Don’t- don’t do that,” you clutch onto his robe, your bruised knuckles turning white. “Don’t give me false hope when I’m already unsure about my own feelings.”

Chan rocks you back and forth, followed by a deep exhale. He hates how your eyebags have become more permanent in the past few days, how lifeless you look during practice and how you’ve been sneaking out every night just to distract yourself from the harsh reality. “I don’t know about you, Y/N, but if I’m not mistaken here, then I can reassure you that he’s in love with you as much as you are with him.”

Regardless of what Chan said, you’ve already had something else on your mind. 

You dash towards the west wing as soon as Chan breaks the hug, all that echoing in your head are the sounds of your shoes tapping against the concrete ground and blood roaring in your ears. What’s the point of falling in love with when you’ve already broken the promise you made years ago in front of your parents’ graves? You hate him. You hate them. All of them. Those who took you away from your own home and tossed you into their life as if you’re a rag doll for sale, like a product that can be traded with materialistic values. It disgusts you to the bones knowing that they’re the same people who raised you, who taught you how to fight, but they also taught you how to love and not judge a book by its cover. 

The love you have for Jisung isn’t supposed to exist in the first place yet the universe tugged the wrong string and now you’re tangled in this intoxicating mess. You wish you could just drive your sword straight into his heart and run away from the palace, from Chan, from him, from everything. But the bond you’ve accidentally created in the long run is now backfiring on your conscience, it disheartens you knowing that you’ll never have a happy ending. 

But if having your heart shattered into a million pieces means he will live happily ever after, then so be it.

seven.

“Your Highness! Your Highness!”

“Let him be.”

Chan abruptly stops the servant from following the crown prince, who’s taking long, hurried strides out of his private courtyard. The gaze in his eyes darkens and sadness glinting in his once warm brown orbs. Gods and fate aren’t very righteous and fair after all. They just love to meddle with the mortals’ feeling as if they’re nothing but mere puppets, created with the purpose to entertain their boring life. But one wrong tug and everything can fall apart, utterly demolished. 

Rain soon comes pouring down on Goryeo, completely oblivious about the life that it’s giving. Whether in warmth or coldness, sunlight or moonlight, rain’s humble with its role. It washes away the soil on the freshly cut grass, on the beautiful rows of flowers in the garden. If only it could wash away the imminent agony in his chest cavity. Each drop sounds like music to the prince’s ears as he feels like he’s taking a trip down memory lane, recalling the day that he met you. 

Jisung will never forget the moment he realized that he loved you. 

You looked about his age, still innocent, almost childish, but with bloodshot eyes from crying and bruised knuckles from trying to wrestle yourself out of the guards’ grip. With a white scarf around your neck, he could barely make out the bottom half of your face but he was convinced, no, he knew that you’re gonna be the most beautiful person he’d meet in the entire kingdom. Far more beautiful than any of the girls he’s ever encountered in the palace. 

And you’re the only person who makes him feel genuinely wanted and loved for who he really is, not just the crown prince of Goryeo. Years after years living side by side, you never really pushed him away even when you’re giving him nothing but what seemed like a look of distaste. And slowly that raw connection grew into something much more meaningful and profound. 

Deep down, he knows that he’ll always love you like it’s the beginning because since day one, since your very first encounter, he has already fallen all in for you. He fell in love with every single inch of you, even the parts that you’re utterly terrified of. He loves the way you talk with your chin high up, eyes full of pride and confidence. Outsiders would call him crazy for falling for someone who’s not ‘qualified’ enough but none of the women in his circle has yet to make his heart flutter. 

But when he started to love you, he realized he’s never loved anyone this way before. He wants to grow old with you, even if that means he can never have the same luxurious life again. Nothing matters when happiness is dangling at the tips of his fingers and he’s never gonna let it go. He’s never gonna let you go. 

And maybe, you might feel the same way after all this time. 

“Y/N!” Jisung calls out to you when he sees your hooded figure at the east gate, which will lead you straight out of the palace as long as you strictly follow the pathway. You snap your head back and meet his eyes. Yes, he can still perfectly make out your brilliant features in this cracked darkness. 

You pull your hood down and your silky hair blows delicately in the wind, your eyes sparkling under the radiant moonlight. You’re still as beautiful as ever, even when there’s evident pain in your surprised expression. “What- What are you doing here?” Your eyes grow twice their previous size, your mouth agape. “Your Highness, aren’t you supposed to be asleep?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Your Highness,” you reply bitterly. “Please head back and get some rest. You have to leave early in the morning tomorrow.”

He quickly brushes your words off, “Why would you risk your life out there like that? So easily? So carelessly?”

“I’m fully capable and everything was under control, so I don’t see what’s the problem here.”

“What’s the problem here?” Jisung lets out a humorless laugh, and now you’re starting to think that he’s just messing with you for the hell of it. “It’s not wrong that you put others before yourself but have you ever thought about yourself? Have you ever thought about me? Do you-“ his voice trembles, with every word, he takes another step towards you. “Do you know how scared I was? Do you know how important you are to me?”

Your heart is caught in your throat, thumping vigorously right there, drowning out the sound of the rain and your own breathing. “But you’re more important to me,” you confess with teary eyes, heart immediately dropping to the pit of your stomach. “I’m terrified of losing you but more terrified that you’ll never be happy because of me. So please, stop making it harder for me-“

Your words linger on the tip of your tongue when he embraces you, the warmth of his hands and the coldness of his damp robe sending chills down your spine. Jisung holds onto you so tightly, refusing to ever let you slip out of his arms. And you hold onto him like it’s the last time, relaxing your muscles into the moment. His hands on the small of your back burn like fire and his love for you prickles your heart. Yet you’re willing to throw yourself at the burning forest of thorns because you know that you’re the happiest when you’re with him. 

“I’ve always imagined myself being happy,” A smile blooms on his lips. “And it’s with you.”

But your mind tells you otherwise as much as you want to run away with him. You can’t have the kingdom on the verge of falling because of the new king’s sudden absence on the throne. Moreover, you’re bound to your own hatred and duties, you can never be the reason for him to simply throw everything away. 

“A wise king will always put the people’s needs before his own, Your Highness,” And his smile falls, your words tugging at his heartstrings. “You should head back now, it’s getting late. Do allow me to escort you there.” 

Jisung doesn’t reject it because he’s afraid that this might be the last time he’ll ever meet you. 

eight.

Night falls fast upon Goryeo. No more than an hour ago was the sky painted with beautiful hues of red, orange and pink when Chan came back to the palace with a deep wound on his shoulder blade. Now there’s nothing left but a matte black canvas without stars to be looked upon. Other than the everlasting darkness, you and your trusty horse, all that seems to exist is the chilly wind with the uneasy feeling twisting in your stomach. 

You’ve underestimated the cold of the night when a breeze passes by you and your heart shudders. You can’t tell whether it’s because of the chilling touch or something else, the only thing on your mind right now is the crown prince. Even if losing him to someone else forever means saving his life, you won’t dare to protest twice. 

It’s a battlefield that can’t quite appear as anything else; the clangor of weapons has died down, the shouting of the slaughters and victims have been hushed, an eerie silence lays on the crimson-colored ground, where the dead soldiers lay in heaps. 

The moon finally reveals itself once you hop off your horse, red marks evident across your palms from clutching onto its reigns for so long. Under the blindingly silver light are broken blades glitter along with the soiled, bloodied armors that you can recognize without effort. The once harmless village is now void and eerie like a graveyard for the unburied. These men have sacrificed their lives for someone you should have protected with your own. Life moves on so easily but somewhere, their fathers, mothers, their brothers, sisters or even children are waiting in vain. 

And it’s all your fault. 

Silent sobs form inside your throat as you bite them down, your legs growing weak at the sight of the dead crown prince, his eyes as immobile as his limbs, blood oozing from the fresh wound on his stomach while his helmet is abandoned next to his body, snapped in half, utterly useless.

Leaves rustling softly. Wisps of air whispering against your eardrums. The moon silent as if it’s mourning for him.  

You hug his limp body close as tears stream down on your cheeks, your skin cool against the night breeze. Your heart aches with every heavy breath that you take, every cell inside your body is shuddering, accepting defeat in the thick darkness. You’re losing the man you love because of your own inconsideration and stubbornness. 

“You came,” Jisung rasps out, dehydration straining his vocal cords as he can feel his body getting weaker by the second. “You really came..”

You force a smile to mirror his expression, “Of course I’d come, I swore to protect you with my whole life, didn’t I?” 

He touches your cheek delicately as if you’re the most fragile thing in this world, but also to prove to himself that he’s not dreaming. “I thought you hated me.”

“I could never hate you, Jisung.”

“Why not?”

“Because I ended up loving you,” you say. “Even when I promised myself that I would never fall for someone like you.”

Jisung nods and his hand feels cold against your cheek, mustering every strand of willpower left to stretch out one moment into a thousand, just so he can embed every detail of you into the deepest parts of his heart and soul. “It shouldn’t hurt us like this, it shouldn’t be this painful.” He manages to whisper. “But it is what it is.”

He’s not ready to let you go, but he doesn’t have a second choice. No one ever does. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” Jisung smiles at you one more time and takes his last breath, allowing death to engulf him wholly. 

“Jisung,” you choke out, caressing his face when his hand falls from your cheek. Like a fool, you’re still holding onto that slim ray of false hope with the wish of him waking up again and smiling at you. “Didn’t you say that whatever I do, where I go, you’ll always come back to me? Huh? So why can’t you?”

As the warmth slips away from his body, you cry out aloud, almost desperate for the gods above to hear you. You can hear your own sounds, raw from the inside like a distressed child, “I love you, please just wake up,” you sob. “I won’t run away, I’m never gonna leave you again. I’m right here! So why can’t you just wake up? Why?!” There’s no word to describe the grief-stricken feeling that’s panging repeatedly on your chest. It tears you apart, piece by piece until you’re left with nothing but the broken shards, having no choice to carry them with you like an unwanted scar for the rest of your life. 

“I will be your queen! If that’s what it takes for you to just look at me again,” you tell him with a prolonged sigh, shivers running down your spine before it goes numb. You rock Jisung back and forth, gazing grievously at the empty space ahead with bloodshot eyes, streaks of tears drying on your cheeks like a madwoman. “Come back to me, please, I need you, more than anything in this world. Please..” 

“Please, stay with me..”

You ignore the pool of tears in your eyes and try to study his features; from his doe eyes, his button nose, and his prominent philtrum. You’ve always stared at and admired him like it’s your first encounter but this time, it’s probably the last. Because no stars are present to grant a wish upon you anymore. 

Those slaughters owe their lives to him and you’re going to make sure that they all learn their lessons before karma can even get a good grip on their necks. Every single one of them. It’s ironic how you used to be one of them, ignorant and oblivious about what really happens inside the palace. There’s more than just being wrapped in the finest materials of clothing and stepping on the lower class. Jisung taught you to open your point of view so that you won’t be stuck inside your own box of misery and anguish forever. 

“Jisung…” your eyes sting, your tongue tastes sour and the sound of his name is embittered to your ears. “I’ll keep you in my heart for eternities, and watch you from afar.” 

You reach for the sword on his waistline, gripping on the handle so tightly that your knuckles turn white. You’ve failed yourself for not accepting your true feelings and now the consequences are irremediable. If he doesn’t haunt you in the next lifetime, the title of a traitor will until your conscience tears you apart. 

“Until we meet again,” you swallow your tears bitterly. “Time will show you how much I love you.”

You shake your head profusely to prevent your eyes from watering again when you realize how Jisung walked into your chaos and never left. He loved you at your darkest, broke down your walls and let the lights in. Whenever he looked at you, the world just stopped; all noises and beings were canceled out, nothing else mattered. The world just stopped, it’s a beautiful place because there was him. 

Jisung loved you unconditionally, and you don’t think that will ever change. 

If only you repricocated his feelings. 

epilogue.

Time begins to dissolve into itself, and as far as it’s concerned, people will come then unfairly go. Regardless of this haunted, friendless world, time will never stop.

So will you.

Because one century after another, wandering from places to places, even when your hands are stained with blood belongs to who you can’t be bothered to remember, even when tears blur your vision and sting your eyes, even when your mortal body ages into nothing but utter rot, your heart still longs for Jisung every single day. 

The future was always something you ought to worry about, let it be your young mind or the lack of wisdom along with experience, you used to feel an uneasy knot inside your stomach every night, not getting a single wink of sleep. You gave plenty of thoughts in how your entire life is mercilessly confined into a fragile speck of timeline. You didn’t feel like you had much time, every second, every minute, every hour was seemingly slipping through your fingers like sand, disintegrating into the ground like the fallen raindrops, vanishing like a mirage across the desert. But now, you’re having all the time everyone could yearn for in the world. You’re forbidden to look back, for time will end you and all your effort will go to waste.

You broke your promise that day with your parents but you’ve protected the oath of keeping Jisung in your heart and watching him from afar. 

And you have no regrets. You chuckle to yourself as you kick a pebble on the sidewalk. 

It’s absolutely glorious in its own inception, with joints of the grey stones so precisely situated that they’re almost invisible. There’s music on the streets, a melody of chaos being born throughout time, a tempo so buzzing and unique that makes it seem like you’ll never keep up. But that’s what connects the world together, every being united as one with a universal soul. People pushing and shoving each other are almost nothing but phantoms to you, utterly meaningless. You feel like an outcast, but you’re no stranger to the moon or the stars above. 

With the white scarf covering the bottom half of your face, you cross your arms and sigh deeply when your back leans against the wall of an old building. You can tell that it was an apartment complex before, but a team from the authorities is in the process of demolishing it. The paint is chipping, cracks are evident as a result of the previous summer heat. You’ve seen walls like this plenty of times before in movies, but this particular one stirs something inside your stomach because the building seems like it’s in need of love and its time here is up. It makes you wonder, how much time do you have left?

A lot has changed, and so did you. Nothing will ever be the same again but you’re still here for a reason. A purpose. A recognition. 

The sun’s setting as clouds give of their rain to the grass and trees when the scenery before you becomes more alive than ever. Droplets of rain race each other with their own thrilling ride to the earthly surface, creating a soothing harmony from one of Mother Nature’s songs, drowning out the entire world. You can feel each splash warm against your skin, and you watch in amusement when your cardigan turns into a darker shade of blue. 

You close your eyes and see Jisung, just like how you do every night. A day shall not pass unless you think, or dream about him. You see him sitting next to you before the lake, gazing at the stars with your head on his shoulder. You see him stuffing his cheeks with too much food to the point that he looks like a squirrel whenever you’re eating out by yourself. And you see him by your bedside, brushing your hair out of your face and humming the sweetest melodies to you before sleep draws a hand over your eyes. 

But this time, it’s your very first encounter. 

Him speculating the tiniest detail of a droplet of rain like it’s the most wondrous thing he’s ever seen. And you stared at the curious prince dejectedly, mentally scoffing at the odd demeanor for a member of the royal bloodline. You can recall every single detail vividly, it still feels like yesterday when he told you it’s okay to cry, and that he’d always protect you. You wanted to take him by the hand and lead him away. On that very same day, you let his voice soak in, his words and the way his arms held your sobbing form, refusing to ever pull away. 

“I just feel like I have to, and I know in my heart, that it’s right.”

Sometimes the one thing we’ve been looking for our whole life feels so out of reach, but it turns out to be right in front of our eyes all this time. 

You slowly open your eyes and a silent tear rolls down on your cheek. Although blurred from the pool of salty liquid, they didn’t miss how a glimpse of a familiar figure is pushing themselves through the ground with clear difficulties. On the other side of the street, stands a boy with doe eyes, cute button nose, and sharp Cupid’s bow. He’s struggling to hold all the heavy pieces of filming equipment by himself under the rain while his friends are waving him over from a nearby van. 

Despite the frantic expression on his face, you’re more than certain that after all these years, you’ve found him. Both of your worlds seem to collide once again when his eyes flutter upwards from underneath his wet fringe and meet yours, golden specks floating softly in his orbs. His features are glowing under the limited source of light, the wind caressing his now short hair softly. 

Happiness makes your chest swell along with thousands of different emotions that you’ve been holding in for almost a hundred decades now bloom like a beautiful field of flowers. You haven’t felt this way in the longest time, and your lips can’t help but crack into a smile. He’s finally living a good life again. What a relief. 

Someone yells aloud from inside the vehicle, “Jisung, you’re gonna get them all wet!”

“Coming!”

His eyes flit away just as fast as when they held yours, his hood being thrown over his head lazily. Almost coldly. 

He didn’t smile back. 

❖ a/n : if you’ve made it to the end of this fic, thank you so much! It really means a lot to me since my confidence has been shaken up a little. I hope you all enjoyed my attempt at smth different rather than domestic au (or at least I tried) stay happy + healthy always!

[kentuckywrites]

Imperium 2: Chapter 8

Te amo, qui meus est orbis. (I love you, my world.)

It truly was funny, how little time they were given to understand what they’d seen. Starr sensed it, he must have, or he’d tracked them down and intended to stop them before anything else was uncovered. They couldn’t run, they couldn’t back down. They had to draw their weapons, all four of them, with tear stained eyes and broken hearts. They had to fight the very person that Nessa had been created to save.

Nessa struck first, in a twist of demented irony. She hadn’t even realized that she’d let go of Solstice’s hand, hadn’t felt the cool grip of her dual swords through her gloves, until she was charging ahead and activating an Art she didn’t know the name of. She’d dodged to the side as soon as Starr swung at her, and her blades sliced through his flank, seeming to deal more damage than before. Elma practically mirrored her movements on Starr’s other side, while Lin put down cover fire and a great distraction. Solstice stood still, backing up, a deer in the headlights. 

“SOLSTICE!!!” Nessa cried out just as Starr screeched, sending a wave of fire straight towards them. Just as it was about to burn them, Lin shouted the name of an Art. Nessa couldn’t hear it, but Solstice became enveloped in a shining green light, and the fire never touched their skin, though it licked around their limbs, desperate for a taste, desperate to burn. That seemed to snap them out of their trance, and swallowing hard, they ignited their weapons: claws, long claws created from the light ether that had danced around them in the cavern, now sharp and pointed and ready for a fight. 

That made Starr furious. He went to bite at them, convinced his teeth would break the barrier, but Lin’s shield was up and in front of them to take the hit. But Starr’s mouth stayed clamped down, and Lin didn’t let go, so when he flung his neck she went flying with him. She slammed back-first into one of the only surviving walls, minus her shield, which Starr spat out like a watermelon seed. Elma called out her name, but Starr took advantage of her lowered guard, and a claw swipe in her direction sent her to the same fate.

“Pongo!!” Solstice cried out, though Starr gave no signs of listening, interested now in his closest target: Nessa. She parried his claws with her swords, backing up as the strength behind his blows made her shaky. “This isn’t you! Please, remember your friends! Remember who you are!!”

Nessa had to admit that Solstice’s faith made her hopeful, but that was just enough time for Starr to bellow, his wings beginning to flap as he swung around and began heading back towards the giant gaping hole in the fortress that he’d entered from. She screamed, “NO!!”, before running after him. They’d run away from him, and he’d left them behind in a silent acknowledgement of defeat, but now that she knew, she couldn’t let him get away. Maybe it wouldn’t end now, and maybe it wouldn’t end here. But she’d end it one way or another.

Nessa ended up pouncing on Starr’s tail, digging both of her blades in just as he took off. Behind her, someone grabbed her ankle, and in front of her, Nessa saw Elma practically throw Lin up towards Star’’s hind leg. She caught hold of the fur, and Elma soon joined on the opposite hind leg, one dual sword sticking out of his leg while her other hand desperately tried to hold on to something, anything. Starr was unforgiving, as if he didn’t feel the little fleas clinging to his body, and he tore through the air with a venomous rage. Only when he was in the air did things begin to go downhill.

He swerved between the mountain tops, taking drastic turns in an attempt to crush his passengers. Nessa and Solstice, whom she quickly discovered was the one hanging on to her leg, began to receive the brunt of the hits. Solstice yelped when they nearly lost their grip on her ankle, but just as they recovered, Starr suddenly stopped and thrust his tail under his body, attempting to throw them both up into the air. Solstice was thrown with no remorse, and Nessa’s grip slipped, losing both of her dual swords in the process as they flew alongside her. 

They both screamed - how weren’t they supposed to? They were so high up they could barely see the ground and, unless Solstice was some kind of a wizard, they had no party tricks to make for a softer landing. And to make things worse, as they both fell through the air, Starr dove down. Nessa wasn’t sure how Elma and Lin managed to hang on, much less get flung like she and Solstice had, but in the end Starr reached his paw out towards Nessa, his eyes burning with a chaotic and unpredictable rage, and he swat her further out into the falling expanse. She felt the wounds open and sear with pain, the blood unable to escae due to her freefalling. 

“Nessa!!” Solstice cried out, their arms out in an attempt to grab her, “Take my hands!! I can -”

They were interrupted by Starr, clamping down on their body, teeth piercing through their torso. Nessa gasped, and Starr swung upwards, carrying all three of her friends along as she hit the snowy floor. She bounced, slid, stopped on her shoulder. Everything inside her body began to howl in pain, and as she tried to push herself upwards, she was met with a void. A gigantic pit, far larger than the one that Oblivia housed, far deeper and more ominous, a stark contrast against the pure white snow. Except, the snow was no longer white, not around her. It was stained blue, a beautiful blue, and that nearly made Nessa sick. 

The ground shook as Starr landed behind her, and the sound of fighting continued. Nessa tried once, twice more to sit herself up, but her arms shook with pain and fatigue and no matter how much she tried she simply couldn’t get her body to listen to her. Two hands eventually appeared and helped her up, and Nessa turned her head, spotting Lin through half lidded eyes. Lin kept her head steady, despite how badly gravity wished to claim her, wished to return her to the ground.

Lin said something to her, but Nessa couldn’t quite hear. It was only then that she realized that her ears were ringing, occupied by an unwanted white noise. She shook her head, a guess to Lin’s question - was it even a question, or was it a statement, an exclamation, a worry or concern - and, with her remaining strength, Nessa got herself to stand up fully, her hands balling into fists as she turned to face Starr. Elma was fighting him on her own, and Solstice was down not far from their battlefield. Their blood, golden in color, spilled from their wounds, though it didn’t coat the snow like Nessa’s had. They stood freely, clutching at their stomach, one of their ether claws still extended. They locked eyes, and in mere seconds, Solstice’s eyes went dark. Baring their teeth like fangs, their other hand fell to their side, and the other ether claws emerged. They rushed forward to take Starr by surprise in the back, and Nessa could only watch as they fought tooth and claw with all the rage they’d pent up.

It was...inspiring. That wasn’t a good word for it, Nessa knew, but she felt an adrenaline rush hit her at the sight of two of her friends fighting Starr. She glanced around, trying to identify where her swords had landed, but in the midst of her search, Lin’s hand was back on her arm. This time, she could hear what the young Outfitter had to say.

“Take this. I’ll cover you.”

Lin offered out her gatling gun, fully loaded and primed to shoot. Nessa stared at the weapon for a moment before she nodded, taking the weight in her hands, shifting it to find a balance. Never mind the fact that she’d never used one of these bad boys before, she’d figure it out. It would be metal as hell if she could tear through Starr like scissors through paper and bring an end to this chaos in record time. Taking aim, Lin propped her shield up in front of Nessa, angling it so that it wouldn’t interfere with the eventual barrage of bullets. Once that was set up, and Starr was thoroughly distracted by Elma and Solstice, Nessa fired.

The barrage was like a whirlwind of shooting stars, and she made sure to wish on every single one. Some missed Starr by a hair, others struck him where it hurt. His attention immediately shifted to the pair, and another large fireball exited his maw. Lin had her shield up just in time to take the brunt of the hit. Starr leapt forward, clawing at them, but Nessa got underneath him instead and let loose another torrent of bullets. His underbelly, though covered in the same coarse white fur, wasn’t nearly as protected as his outer body, so when Starr screamed, it was from a place of sheer shock and pain. He nearly flipped himself over in an attempt to reach her, and one claw did, launching her forward - but straight into Solstice, who caught her before she went too far.

“If we can tie him down somehow, I can enact the ritual and revert him back to his original form,” Solstice said between pants, clearly exhausted, “Keep him distracted. My ether should do the trick.”

“Leave it to me, Sol,” Nessa smirked, darting forward to re-enter the fray. It was hard to run thanks to the gatling gun, but once she positioned herself in a new place, it became the least of her concerns. Starr’s eyes were shaking, going back and forth between his targets, fire bristling out of them as his ether lined flared up along his body. He struck at Elma first, who dodged with nimble grace. She didn’t look too rough, but it was clear that her excessive dodging was beginning to wear her down. Nessa fired another volley of bullets at Starr, but this time, he seemed more interested in attacking Lin, whose shield was still up and ready to take another hit. As he lashed out, however, the shield split in two, and Lin flew backwards, landing on her rear as she held the one sliced piece of her shield. Nessa reloaded as fast as she could, continuing to fire, aiming at Starr’s face now to divert his attention. 

“COME AND GET SOME, YOU OVERSIZED MILLESAUR TURD!!” Nessa taunted him with a fierce growl.

Starr flared up with righteous anger, but just as he swiveled around, a string of light shot out and wrapped itself tightly around his neck. He shrieked in surprise, and more strings soon enveloped his four legs, and nothing he did could make him break free. He even tried to bite some of the ones around his front arms, but the string around his neck tugged him back, earning an annoyed and panicked roar. Solstice stood at a distance, their ether claws gone, their hands now wrapped firmly around the base of the strings. With Starr’s resistance, their foothold in the snow began to falter, but somehow, they remained standing upright, the muscles in their shoulders straining. 

They began to chant, the voice raised over the growls of the angered Telethia. It was ancient Miran, a language unknown to Elma and Lin solely out of the planet’s own spite. Nessa could translate with startling clarity, and as the words reached her ears, repeating over and over and over again, Starr began to shrivel and shrink.

“I beseech the sun and the moons above, grant me the power of the star! Let this planet’s humble servant protect the land and the sea, the sky and all between!”

Nessa’s eyes were glued to Starr’s form, convoluted and twisting as the chanting took its toll. The fur receded back into his body, his wings and tail disappeared with time, and the ropes around his limbs soon tightened as his body mass depleted. Nessa almost couldn’t look away, but soon she saw Solstice starting to fumble, starting to tighten, and she limped over as quickly as she could. The gatling gun got left behind in the rush, abandoned after having served its purpose.

Solstice retracted her light ether ropes, her hands now shaking in front of her. Even though the transformation was setting in, even though their time as a humanoid was nearing its end, they looked at peace. As Nessa approached, they smiled with so much warmth and happiness that it almost gave her hope.

They spoke first.

“I -”

“I don’t want you to go.” Nessa confessed faster than she could ever hope to process, making Solstice’s smile even softer.

“I don’t want to leave. But I must. It is my duty, and it is my promise.”

“I...I know it is.”

There was a silence between them that they refused to break for far too long. Nessa closed her eyes, hoping to squeeze the tears away, and a shadow suddenly came over her. Something pressed down on her forehead. A kiss.

“I will never forget you, Nessa-vara’is. You are the world I swore to protect, and I shall uphold that until the end of time.”

Nessa opened her eyes, and Solstice was walking away, back towards Starr’s crumpled form. It was a haze to her, a flurry of bright lights and blinding views, but in the midst of the ritual, a new pair of wings sprouted, earthier in tone, completed by yellow ether feathers. Telethia, the Endbringer, took to the skies moments after. As the lights all dimmed down, Nessa became acutely aware of the glacial iris in her hair, perched carefully despite the battle she’d endured. She knew Solstice wasn’t gone, but they’d left their love behind for her. She’d cherish that for eternity.

However, in the end, all that was left behind as the lights finally died was a body. A bleeding, mangled, human body. Her brother.

Nessa wasn’t the first to reach him. Lin did. She shook him by the shoulders first, then propped him up on his knees when he proved to be unresponsive. He held that position as she took out her comm device, scanning for internal damage, life-threatening external damage.

“He’s stable,” Lin announced with far too much enthusiasm, “He lost a lot of fluids, but he’ll be okay as long as we hurry back to the city.”

“We should make a pit stop back at the caravan first,” Elma told her, “If Pongo’s not in good shape, it could be worth visiting Vanala to see if her ether can -”

“Wait...no. Something’s not right.”

Lin performed another scan, her comm device floating over Pongo’s body. A scowl was forming on her face, though it was quickly overtaken by a set of wide eyes and prominent fear. “He’s...he’s not there.”

“What do you mean?” Elma asked.

Nessa knew what Lin meant. Everything in her body went cold.

“The serum that the Misaaldi gave him, before his transformation...it erased him. There’s nothing inside this mim. It’s...it’s an empty shell.”

As if to prove a point, his eyes slowly opened, and underneath his eyelids, there was only grey. The same hauntingly void grey they’d seen in the footage back in the fortress. Nessa’s heart broke, perhaps for the millionth time that day, yet at the same time, she could feel it beating beneath her breast. It was lying to her. 

She began to walk towards him. Lin stepped aside as Nessa knelt down in front of him, dropping her swords in her tired state. A newly emptied hand reached up to cradle an empty face. Nothing was there to receive her pain. She couldn’t even hold his cheek properly; if she pressed too hard, she feared he’d topple over, truly dead instead of faking it. 

Mira spoke softly, a gentle whisper laced with a terrible sadness.

I know how to fix this.

“How?”

You are not going to like it.

“I said how?”

You...you have to return him to me. He is still a part of me, and if you return his body, I can recreate him.

“...you want me to...to kill him?...” Nessa’s voice cracked at the realization. “I...you made me to save him...this isn’t…”

You will be saving him. I...I do not know what else we could do.

“There has to be another way!!” She screamed, “I can’t do this!! I didn’t ask to be created for this!!”

Mira didn’t respond, but she felt the weight of its grief on her shoulders, and she knew that it never meant for things to turn out this way. Nessa’s hands fell to her sides, unable to stop her sobs from escaping. This hurt. This hurt more than any wounds she’d ever gotten, more than any bullet or sword or blunt force trauma. This was torture of the cruelest kind.

After a moment, she forced herself to stand, to return to where she’d been standing previously. Her guns were still strapped to her back, and she removed one. Fully loaded. There was no excuse to postpone it. She lifted her arm, the sobs strengthening tenfold with every second she stared at him.

The chill of Cocytios. Warm blood running down her arms, drying in the crisp and foreboding wind. The gun in her hand, pointed at the shell before her. His eyes were dead and lifeless, his body sitting perfectly still. How wasn’t he dead? He wasn’t moving, wasn’t responding, wasn’t doing anything. 

Maybe, though his physical body said otherwise, he was dead. There was nothing left inside him but wires and circuit boards and all the little things that made a mimeosome human. There was no soul, no love, no personality. If Nessa tried to hug him, he wouldn’t hug back. If she called out to him, he wouldn’t respond.

So the gun in her hand, the shot she was about to fire...Nessa had to convince herself this was a mercy. That killing him - killing this husk, this former light in the world - would give him a chance to live one day, just like he’d lived before she came. And yet, though she kept telling herself this truth, that she was saving him by killing him and that Mira would restore him when he died…

Why did it hurt so badly?

Nessa had the gun pointed at his head. She could shoot now and be done. She could shoot, watch his body fall, and walk away. But looking into those eyes, colder than Cocytios, reflecting nothing, nothing, nothing - she just couldn’t. She knew what those eyes used to hold, what they used to look like. They were just like hers, full of life and adoration for life. Mira had cursed her the moment she realized she could see some of his memories, see the friendships he’d forged and the trials he’d overcome. He was somebody bright and beautiful, and now…

For his sake, and for hers, and for any other lives he managed to touch - Nessa had to kill him. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, stifling the sobs that wracked her body, sending shivers down her skin that she couldn’t blame the cold for. When she opened her eyes again, he was still there, staring, waiting, expecting.

“I’m sorry,” Nessa breathed, her voice hitching in the back of her throat. “You’re not...you’re not him. I have to kill you to save you, and it’s so warped and twisted and cruel and you deserve so much better than this. But I...I was created to save you, just as you were created to save humanity. They’ll need you more than they’ll ever need me.”

She paused for a moment, the wind blowing some of her tears away. Many more came, and many more continued to stain her cheeks, invisible scars that she’d feel for days, weeks to come. “You don’t have to forgive me for this, either. Just... promise that you’ll remember me, okay? Don’t forget who I am. And remember that I’d go to the ends of the world for you. Maybe one day I can prove it to you in the flesh, but for now...just remember.”

Nessa swallowed hard. If she had any other words to say, they were fleeting, not nearly as sincere or formulated in comparison. And they would only delay the inevitable, they’d only delay his death. And she couldn’t do that to him, not any longer. Eyes wide open, holding her arm up as firmly as possible, she tried to smile.

When she pulled the trigger, and the bullet passed through his skull, a clean and precise cut that would’ve killed any man, and his body toppled backwards and over the edge of the bottomless grave…

She swore Pongo was smiling. 

And that broke her. She screamed and cried and let her heart break loud enough for all to hear. Cocytios’s wind drowned her sorrow in the snow.

[anextraordinarymuse]

Head vs Heart: Part 2

Part 1 can be found here.

(@jonesgirl88 GET SOME WATER KATIE

STAY HYDRATED FOR THIS MARATHON)

Okay so we left off on part one talking about the end of The Treasure Box. We already discussed the moments when Oliver and Shane are locked in the vault, and now we're on to the moments after that. I mentioned that when Holly's letter falls out of Oliver's pocket Shane is the one to bring it back to him. Funny how Oliver hasn't tried to address his wife's absence in years, but as soon as Shane shows up she either encourages him or pushes him toward a resolution. In more ways than one, Shane is Oliver's catalyst. You mentioned the blizzard theory, Katie, and I totally agree with that. Shane showed up and is literally guiding or pushing Oliver down off that frozen mountain by turns.

Anyway, look at this: even after Shane has returned Holly's letter to Oliver, she exits the vault by passing Oliver on his left side, which you can kind of see here (again, this gif is from the Alameda and Downing blog):

And I didn't gif it, but when Oliver and Shane are reunited with Norman and Rita in the bank lobby, Shane is on his left. Now, something I found interesting is that when Oliver and Shane deliver the letters to the living Jonathan, Shane is seated to Oliver's right. Considering that Oliver gives something away in this moment by telling Jonathan to read the love letters out loud, with his wife (the way that he and Shane did), and the way Shane reacts to his saying it, I find it interesting that she's not on Oliver's left side. But, he is leaning toward Shane with his left hand pointed at her (and he's tapping the fingers of his left hand against the chair).

But then we get to the pageant, where Shane is once again seated to Oliver's left. But that's not the big takeaway in this sequence. This is:

If memory serves, this is the first time we see Shane take Oliver's hand like this - and it's his left hand. They're not dancing, and considering what they've been through recently, it's really not even that intense of a moment. She just does it by instinct because that connection has already been established. At this point, I'm making the case for the left side of Oliver's body (and, by extension, his heart) being Shane's side. That's her territory; Oliver has given it to her, perhaps unwittingly at first, and she's claimed it. Also, both times we've seen Oliver draw Shane's hand into the space over his heart he's been holding her hand in his left hand. Just a note. We don't see a lot of this physical or physically present connection in A Hope and A Future except in this small, blink-and-you-miss-it moment (that I absolutely adore anyway!):

Look at all of those points of connection. Not only is Shane's head on Oliver's left shoulder, his left cheek is almost pressed into her hair, and her hand is almost resting on his left arm. Also, once again, Shane is turned into Oliver (whose body is facing straight forward despite his head being turned in Shane's direction). Did I mention that I love this moment? Don't think about the fact that Shane is literally laying there listening to the sound of Oliver's heartbeat, because then you'll get all mushy like me and this will devolve into a feels fest because isn't that just the sweetest, most tender thi ... okay, getting back on track.

Anyway. This propensity for Shane to connect with the area directly over or around Oliver's heart is well established at this point, I think, even if it's been rather subtle until this point. I say until this point because once that hand hold is established at the end of The Treasure Box, Shane claiming (if you will) that area becomes more blatant - especially in times of vulnerability.

Let's look at the Christmas movie. Now, I love that this is the first time we get to see Oliver jealous. Another man is on the scene, and he gets a decent amount of Shane's attention in moments where Oliver is present to witness that. We get to see pretty early on that Oliver really isn't a fan of that, and that's never more apparent than at the Christmas ball when Shane not only dances with Jordan, but teaches him steps to the dance that, until now, has been strictly Oliver and Shane's. But that's not really what I want to talk about

It's the moments after Oliver delivers Shane's letters that reveal more of this Shane = Oliver's heart connection. Also worth noting at this point, however, is that this is when I also started to pick up on some interesting left-sided details on Shane's behalf. Let's take a look.

Oliver has just delivered some very emotional news that Shane may have finally been ready to receive, but still definitely shook her to her core. When Oliver reaches for her, what side of her dress does he rip? Her left sleeve. Almost like he's (accidentally) ripping the band-aid off her wounded heart and exposing the injury in order to administer first aid. This is really the first big moment of anything left-oriented on Shane's behalf. She's usually the all-in type, as indicated in previous gifs by the fact that she's often turned to face Oliver head on in important moments. But I make the case that the gravity of this moment is supported by the fact that Oliver reaches for her left side, and connects in a way that he wasn't expecting - that neither of them were. And now that he has her attention, they share another foundational moment, which is followed by this:

... Shane once again leaving her imprint on Oliver's heart. This moment of connection has now visibly gone both ways. The love and concern and tenderness that passes between Oliver and Shane in this moment is ... undeniable. Oliver has sought to soothe that hurt in Shane's heart by once again offering something of himself - and offering it to Shane in the only way he can at this moment - and Shane is reaffirming both their connection and her place by once again engaging with the left side of Oliver's body, directly over his heart. Actually she claims everything from the middle of his chest to his shoulder, lol. She's staking an even bigger claim than before and she does so after Oliver expresses that he has failed to find someone to share his life with until this point. Coincidence? No way.

And now we get to From Paris With Love. The only actual, visible comparisons we get to the way Oliver interacts with Holly vs how he interacts with Shane. And oh boy, there's some interesting stuff here.

Another thing I didn't gif but is worth mentioning in this movie are the ways that each women understands Oliver, and how they connect with him in moments when he isn't there. When Holly first arrives in the DLO she's alone, and we see her interacting with specific objects that belong to Oliver. What she chooses is interesting. The first thing she picks is Oliver's hat, which is arguably the only thing that belongs solely to and represents only Oliver. But even then, we know that Oliver's hat is outdated: we haven't seen him wear it since the pilot. Holly seems to recognize it, though, which makes me think that Oliver probably wore it at least somewhat regularly in the past. So, Holly is visually connecting with a past Oliver and not the man we know. Holly then interacts with two things that belong to Oliver, but are more about Holly then Oliver: the postage stamp tin which Holly had engraved and gave him, and the small statue of the Eiffel tower. These things don't really connect to Oliver as a person - they connect to Holly and her presence in his life. We're meant to see that Holly isn't really connecting with him, she's connecting with the parts of her (and him) that she's left behind. The only other thing that Holly interacts with that can be considered distinctly Oliver is the Yoo-Hoo that she takes without asking - and then leaves mostly untouched on the desk when she leaves. Every moment that Holly spends in the DLO is about disconnection and abandonment - memories and echoes. Very little establishes her as a part of the present (or future) - and she pointedly does not encroach on Shane's territory (which Shane neither notices or witnesses). Check it out:

In the first moment that Oliver sees Holly, he does so in the context of Shane's presence. Not only that, but look at how Shane and Holly are standing: Shane is off to Oliver's left and Holly literally steps out from Shane's shadow - I mean, steps out from behind her and is oriented more to Oliver's middle/right. Now, it's natural for Shane to be physically present around the left side of Oliver's body, and we see this again as Shane leaves. She follows what is basically her natural course and passes him on his left in a smooth motion (despite the awkwardness she feels):

And Oliver is still looking at Holly, but he turns his body toward Shane as she passes (exposing more of his left side to her as she goes while also accommodating her presence and departure). Now, we're going to talk about how Holly chooses to leave in just a second. There's something else I want to talk about in the scene where Shane and Holly meet. Remember how I said that we start to see more left-oriented visual cues from Shane? This is one of those moments. This is Shane when she returns to the DLO:

Now, totally disregarding that I think this sequence of scenes is one of the moments when Shane looks the most beautiful (seriously, I don't know what it is, but she looks stunning), the way that Shane is wearing her hair caught my eye. She doesn't usually tuck her hair behind her ears, and in these moments she only has one side tucked: the left. Her left ear and shoulder are exposed, whereas her right ear and shoulder are "hidden" or "protected" by the veil of her hair. Shane's heart is vulnerable and exposed in these moments with Holly, and whether she knows it or not Holly lands several blows. Not only is Holly's presence a blow to Shane and her place in Oliver's life (and heart), Holly then goes on to show that she does know Oliver - and that she knows him in ways that Shane doesn't, and might never get to at this point. It's not just the revelation of Oliver's habit of eating clams and red wine when he's angry, it's also the secret-sharing of the fact that apparently Oliver is such a good kisser that Holly had to stop kissing him altogether in order to follow through on her promises to herself. Shane's vulnerability and heartache in these moments isn't just visible in her expression. The fact that only the left side of her hair is tucked is meant to show us that she's vulnerable and exposed, and she stays like that (and so does her hair) for the entirety of this exchange.

Here's another one from a few moments later that gives you a better look. (Another side note: SHANE IS FREAKING SUNSHINE. LOOK AT HER. SHE'S BEAUTIFUL AND GLOWING AND HER HAIR IS LIQUID GOLD. If you don't love Shane McInerney then I literally can't even).

Now, for the moment Holly leaves the DLO. I've already mentioned how smoothly Shane exited and that she followed a natural path past Oliver. That's not how Holly leaves.

oFirst things first: Holly chooses to pass Oliver on his right as she leaves. But there's also no natural flow here since Holly wasn't moving before this, so her departure looks more abrupt. And Oliver doesn't move at all as she leaves: he doesn't turn toward her at all or accommodate/allow for her to pass. In fact, he looks frozen. Holly seems to have a natural propensity for either angering Oliver, or making him freeze.

Notably, Holly and Oliver barely touch. Not just in this moment, but at all in this moment. The only time they do seem to touch is when they're dancing, which I will talk about in a minute.

Despite Holly's arrival and presence, the symbolism of Shane on Oliver's left and being synonymous with his heart doesn't let up.

But, since I've once again hit the limit of ten gifs per post (oops? Is this getting out of hand? Oh well.) we're moving on to part 3.

[popculturebuffet]

Darkwing Duck Reviews: Darkly Dawns the Duck Pts 1 and 2

It’s a Darkwing Double Feature! Just in time for his ducktales special, I take a look at the introduction of everyone’s favorite Daring Duck of Mystery. In his daring debut we meet Darkwing Duck, an egositical and attention hungry superhero who soon finds himself having to look after a feisty orphan to keep her from getting nabbed by local kingpin of crime Taurus Bulba with the help of his biggest fan. Darkwing owns the night under the cut with decades old spoilers. 

Let’s Get Dangerous.. is tommorow so with that in mind i’m doing a darkwing double feature to refresh myself before the big special. So i’ll be covering both the original series pilot “Darkly Dawns the Duck” and the ducktales reboot episode “The Duck Knight Returns”.  Let’s Get Dangerous Itself because I was so wiped yesterday I didn’t get the other review done and unexpectly got acess to the new episode way earlier than usual so i’d rather focus on that. Got it? Good. Let’s continue past me. 

As usual with a new show a breif bit about my history with it: I watched it years ago, as a friend of mine lent me the first two discs of the season 1 dvd and never found the third one nor asked for them back, nor cared I had them. I thoughtly enjoyed it, had a great time and then it took me a decade or so to actually watch the series again due to a combination of being too stubborn to just buy the season 1 dvd again, a very darkwing move of me in hindsight, and then when disney plus meant I had all episodes at my finger tips I.. sat on them till now.. though to be fair i’ve sat on a LOT of great shows on there including the mandalorian, gargoyles and boy meets world. I have a bad tendency to procastinate, the fact this is coming out so late in the day should be a giveaway. I did read about half of volume 1 of the comic and all of volume 2, so there’s that at least.  Point is this new episode finally made me decide to get off my ass and watch darkwing once again, starting with the pilot and the episodes related to the fearsome four to be ready for tomorrow to see what the differences are (Thoguh I did remember bushroot vividly, so I had that at least).  Something to note before I get started talking about the pilot itself though, is the episode order for Darkwing Duck is a Darkwing Clusterfuck. Now I do understand WHY they aired this way: While some episodes do logically take place after other episodes, you can reasonably pop on just about any darkwing and watch it and enjoy it with minimal need to know what happened in previous episodes, kinda like batman the animated series oddly enough. It was also aired between two networks so on some level I get disney’s confusion here.. but on the other hand it’d take ten minutes, they clearly can call up the creator easily as Tad Stones made a cameo in ducktales 2017 we’ll get to so they could easily get a better order from the creator himself, so they really don’t have an excuse for this, or for slapping the pilot in the middle of season 1. Then again both ducktales 2017 and x-men the animated series were sort of a mess order wise when first put up, so not giving a shit about where episodes are placed for re-watching clearly is a pastime of theirs. 

Now i’ve got that out of my system we can dive into the episode itself and a breif plot synopsis. Darkwing Duck is the superhero protector of St. Canard, a masked vigiliante who takes out crime but wishes he actually got fame and credit for his work. Kind of like Booster Gold but without taking endorsments or as far as we know coming from the future. He also has nothing else as shown by the fact he fights crime, does a training regimine to prepare his breakfast that’s a delight to watch then prepares to sleep. It’s an intresting concept, a hero who HAD a civlian identity once, as the rest of the series would play out, he just no longer needs it. And it’s also ahead of it’s time as batman would explore this idea both seriously with bruce wayne murderer and comedically and seriously with the lego batman movie LONG after this series aired, meaning the writers here figured out what many probably knew about batman and put it into their parody version: Batman is the real identity and Bruce is the mask. Batman only keeps his old self because the bruce id is useful to him: It keeps people away from his company, puts up a playboy facade that draws attention away from him being batman, and allows him to do various charities and what not and help honor his parents in a way that dosen’t involve swooping in and kicking people in the throat. And as seen with bruce wayne murderer when the option to throw bruce away for good came up Batman gladly took it.  This is the same idea: Drake Mallard ONLY cares about crime fighting, has no friends no family, we never do find out jack about his family hopefully if there’s a full reboot series Frank and Matt fix it for their version. He has nothing, and is fine with that. He hasn’t really had a reason to care about anything else than his own glory and works alone not because it’s less efficent but because his oversized ego means he dosen’t want to share credit. IT’s an intresting start and his ego would be a defining bit of who he is and used intrestingly int he reboot but we’ll get to that there. 

His life changes forever though when local crime boss Taurus Bulba unleashes his latest scheme: To steal the Ramrod, a gravity manipulating device created by the late Dr. Quackmeyer.. late because Bulba’s men killed him and were dumb enough not to get the arming code for the ramrod first a year ago. Bulba is also behind bars but in one of my faviorite gags of the episode despite the warden’s constnat gloating, Bulba has taken the “Supervillian makes jail into a base” Or “Jail is nothing to a supervillian who can easily get out trope” to ludcrious machines. He has whole meetings with his minions, keeps the ramrod once he gets his hands on it in the laundry and has a ship SHAPED LIKE HIS FACE built into his cellblock. I’ts just so over the top it’s glorious. But yeah since Bulba can’t go after it at first he sends his three goofy minons, one played by eddie “Mandark” deezen in.. love that guy. 

THey do end up stealing the ramrod thanks to the help of bulba’s cool, non-anthromporhic condor who he uses as his right hand man and as his link to his minons via a small tv aroudn it’s neck. That.. is awesome. Darkwing spots the condor but fails to stop the three stooges or the condor and gets unknowingly blamed for the robbery..and stopped to get glamor shots not realizing the guy thought he was a criminla which.. fair enough. It is a shadowy disguise after all. 

Darkwing ends up grabbing onto the vulture sonic 3 style, but ends up falling off him into a hangar where we meet the original version of Launchpad McQuack, whose apparently quit working for scrooge and has his own hangar now though it wouldn’t be a stretch that scrooge bought it for him.. he does , stingy as he is, appricate hard work and launchpad wanting to start his own buisness and while hte planes were probably all on launchpad, Scrooge would gladly buy a run down buliding for a loyal friend who wants to put in some hard honest work. Plus it’s a free place to store any vehicles he has in the st canard area.. I mean it’s still scrooge. And yes I know the whole “Tad stones said they aren’t the same universe” non sense. I do have the utmost respect for the guy and he seems really, nice but I don’ tlike that, no one likes that and both the comics and the current duckverse with the ducktales reboot entirely ignore that for good reason.While the two shows are diffrent in tone they stil lfit and it’s not a stretch for launchpad to want to spread his wings or failing that scrooge to help push him out of the nest and give him his own buisness or one of scrooge’s to run. 

But while Launchpad does help DW with a propeller plane they fail and while launchpad offers to be his sidekick, DW gives him the old I work alone bit.  However him being alone won’t last for long as Bulba still needs that arming code and since his only lead is Waddlemeyer’s grandaughter who grew up in his lab, he sends his buffonish minons to go get him. Why he never sends his lone female minon with them is because it’s funnier if she dosen’t I guess. Which it is so fair enough.  So thus we enter Goslyn, who the head of the orphanage is fed up with due to her antics. Goslyn is played as most of you knwo by christine cavanagh.. I honestly forgot and it still throws me off a bit she’s using what would later be her chucky finster voice for a character so completely diffrent. Granted it’s not unusual in voice acting, just weird here and only for me personally having grown up with rugrats but not darkwing. The orphanage head is a bit less jarring as she’s played by Marcia Wallace, aka Edna Krabable from the simpsons but A) that show was already running at this point and B), the character is basically a nicer version of edna versus chuckies voice coming out of a tiny if immensly fun to watch hellion. I do like goslyn, sh’es a fun character even in her shadier moments, it’s just something i’d forgotten about i’ll need to get used to is all. 

Bulba’s hired goons come in claming ot be friends of her grandpas and we actually get some really heartwrenching context for Gos’ behavior: While she does act out she actually LIKES THE orphanage.. ti’s just her friends keep getting adopted while no one wants someone “full of spirit”. It’s heartwrecnhing to hear.. and only gets worse when the goons try and kidnap her.  Thankfully Darkwing.. also kidnaps her, but he kindaps her from kidnappers and while Goslyn naturally takes a second to realize he’s the good guy them shooting at him clues her in. Darkwing, in a rare for the series as a whole moment of reason and not wanting to just power though something himself TRIES to do the responsible thing and leave gos with the police where she’ll be protected.. but given they think he’s a wanted criminal they shoot at him.. and the small child in his motorcycle. Yup that’s the police alright. 

So with no other options Darkwing takes gos home, hyjinks insue including her activintg the breakfast thing. But the two genuinely start to bond. While Darkwing dosen’t WANT to keep her around, the whole not wanting connections thing, it’s clear he’s growing fond of the little snot as she holds her own with his trianing course, they have a tickle fight and in the sweetest moment of the episode the two sing little girl blue, a song her grandfather used to sing her to sleep that she teaches darkwing. It’s an utterly heartmelting bit and Cummings and Cavanagh really sell the hell out of it. It also however turns out ot be plot relevant: Turns out just in case Dr. Waddlemeyer hid the code for the ramrod in the song, and when Darkwing sees a photo Goslyn got from bulba’s goons, he realizes this and realizes that depsite thinking she didn’t know it Goslyn had it all along.. and that as long as h’es around she won’t know.  Bulba is naturally livid at his minons failure and decides now’s the time to take this into his own hands and while he actually liked the prison hq setup, as it did make sense as it was the perfect cover and the warden was too full of himself to realize Bulba was still active and too convinced the bull was beaten down when he clearly wasn’t, but instead as mentioned above awesomely converts his cellblock into a flying ship in the shape of his own head.  Bulba.. is a great villian and I only think the show didn’t use him more because he’s a dead serious, deadly dangerous villian in an otherwise goofy but fun superhero parody show. The show later gained Negaduck, so they had a more dangerous threat for darkwing that fit the show’s tone better while still being utterly terrifying, and likely simply didn’t need him till the idea for the steerminator came up. But I love the guy: he reminds me a lot of the kingpin, a threatning villian who uses his sheer size to beat our hero down, is cool and suave and is an utter mastermind at planning. He also wears a nice suit.  And naturlaly he has a plan to take out darkwing since despite the two never having met, as Darkwing disparages when Goslyn assumes their lifelong mortal enmies like in the comics, they know of each other.. and thus bulba knows exactly what trap to spring to get him out of the way and goslyn into his ship: He flashes a message in morris code that he wants to surrender to Darkwing while stroking his ego a LOT. And it works... while i’ts an obvious trap Darkwing’s so full of himself he goes despite Goslyn telling him it’s very obviously a trap.  Naturally everything goes pear shaped as a result: Bulba shows up, revealing gos not only to be right but easily pummling Darkwing. Which makes sense: While Darkwing is a vetran crime fighter and secret agent, Bulba’s been at being a villian longer clearly as he’s built up enough of a rep both for Darkwing to know him out of hand and for the warden to be proud capturing him. Given what univese this is, it probably isn’t Bulba’s first round with a superhero and given at this stage St Canard only has one.. yeah Darkwing is outclasssed and the police grab him while Bulba scarpers. And while Gos puts up a good fight using the trianing course, Bulba’s vulture gets her. Bulba has everything he needs.  Darkwing meanwhile actually bemoans what a dick he’s been, that the first person he’s cared about besides himself in possibly ever is now in the hands of a murderous mastermind, and that he’s stuck in jail with no one to call on for help. Thankfully.. help arrives.. and by help I mean launchpad backing the ratcatcher, Darkwing’s bike, into the prisoin. He DID come just to bail DW out despite his earlier jerkishness, but backed in and Darkwing not beliving superheroes have time for paperwork, decides to just bust out. And to be ifair int his case he’s probably right as you know, a ten year old might die if they don’t get there in time. So off they go.. but with Bulba in the air they need something with wings to catch him. ANd luckily as Launchpad mentioned earlier he’s been working on something special for darkwing.  It’s with this we enter the thunderquack, which is DW”S awesome headshaped plane. It’s just cool it’s got a nice design, goofy enough tof it the universe but cool enoguh to still be fun to watch. Darkwing has really damn cool vehicles, as the ratcatcher is also awesomely iconic. But yeah the thunderquack impresses darkwing and rightfully so and he decides to make LP his sidekick afterall.  So now our heroes fly into the danger zone and attack bulba’s airship with Darkwing landing on the bow and a scuffle insues with darkwing and hte minons.. who use actual guns which for a 90′s kids show is  a suprise, especially one this intentioanlly goofy, but boy is it nice. However Bulba, being awesomely evil, isn’t dumb and instead of fighting darkwing, which he could win but would win him nothing and having gotten nothing out of goslyn, figures the hero might know the code.. and while Darkwing lies and says he dosen’t, Bulba points out .. he’s right.. but he’s always been a gambling man and has his condor drop goslyn to lure drake into telling him , with DW putting in the code and bulba testing it with a bank robbery.. before predictably having his condor drop the girl because he no longer needs her. Thankfully launchpad catches her in time and then they get revenge on the condor with the thunderquack BITING IT.. which is awesome. Hopefully the reboot version does that. 

Darkwing meanwhile saves the day, his new daughter and the city by simply sneaking over to the ramrod and mashign the keys till it overloads, silly, but undeniably awesome and effective. Bulba TRIES to finish off darkwing this time for foiling his plan.. btu the ramrod explodes and while bulba’s minons and goslyn and launchpad are safe... bulba and darkwing are apparently dead and it’s effective.  A few weeks later Goslyn’s back at the orphanage utterly distraught and broken at being basically orphaned again. Naturally though Darkwing’s alive, having taken his old identnity back since now he has something worth using it for and adopts her, hinting at who he is so she goes with him. And Drake has changed.. sure he’ll still be as egostical and impuslive as he was here.. but he’s no longer just darkwing.. he’s drake again as he has someone worth fighting for.. two someones in fact. He has a friend, a loyal partner to help him fight cime. And more importantly.. he has a loving daughter. And both needed each other: Goslyn needed someone who understood her despite her manic energy, and Drake needed someone who needed him and not darkwing, a reason to be a person outside the cape and cowl and outside the attention again. He needed a reason to live again... and he’s got it. And it’s going to be great. 

Final Thoughts: This pilot is excellent. Well paced, plenty of laughs, tense action and great introductions for everyone involved as well as a hell of a vilian> This is how you do a first episode: it introduces the main themes of the show, both comedically and dramatically, introduces the cast and gives us a one off , or rather two off it’d turn out, villian whose compelling and intresting. IT’s really damn good stuff and I can’t wait ot see what frank does with a simlar story tommorow. Until then, stay safe, and happy hallowen. We’ll be back shortly for The Duck Knight returns and then Let’s Get Dangerous tommorow. 

[aerynwrites]

Liberation - IX

Chapter 9 - The Bird

Author’s Note: It’s Finally here!! I’m so so sorry for the long wait, In all honestly between school and work and just life in general i got so busy and just didn’t feel like using what little free time i had to write. But, I fiannly got this chapter done, and I think this is one of my favorite chapters so I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did!! As alwasy I LOVE hearing from you guys and what you thought about the chapter, it means a lot. Enjoy! 💖

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Slight PTSD? mentions of blood, violence, near death, cursing, angst and fluff.

Part 9/?  - All Chapters (Full list)

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Din has never died before, has never really even been close to death, but right now – as your fragile form went limp in his arms and your head lolled jarringly to the side – he assumed this is what it felt like to die. His heart freezing in his chest, the breath being sucked from his lungs, and the dreadful and haunting cold seeping into his very bones.

“Kid? (y/n)? Wake up – Cara, Cara get over here!” he called frantically, his swift footsteps halting as he takes in your terrifyingly still state.

He watches through his visor, blinking away the cold sweat that is dripping into his eyes, as Cara turns on a dime and rushes over to him and takes in the sight of you, limp in his arms. She quickly comes over and her gaze snaps up to his, eyes silently asking him what she needs to do. He shifts you in his arms to better support your head and nods his helmet towards you, unable to ask the one question he fears the answer too.

Did you just die in his arms?

Cara’s lips set into a firm line and she gives him a curt nod, quickly holstering her blaster and places two shaking fingers to your neck, checking for a pulse. Din watches in anticipation, his heart - that just a moment ago seemed still – beating frantically in his chest as he looks over Cara’s face. He sees her lips tug into a frown and his heart plummets, waiting for the inevitable news.

She’s gone Mando, I’m sorry.

But Cara’s eyes widen slightly, and she stands abruptly, looking to the Mandalorian with shock and a small bit of hope in her eyes, “She’s alive, her pulse is thready but she’s alive.”

Mando doesn’t wait another second before he is rushing past Cara and continuing on their path towards his ship. You were alive, but from what Cara said, you were barely alive. He had to get you on the ship and back to the village if there was any chance of you surviving.

Even though the crest was less than a mile away, it felt like the journey there took days before he and Cara were rushing up the ramp to the ship. He hesitated as he neared the cockpit, looking from your form in his arms to the shock trooper beside him.

As if Cara sensed his thought she nodded and took the pilots seat, “You stay with her, I’ll get us back to the village,” she said firmly, firing up the ship and lifting it into the air.

Din leans his back against the wall nearest to him and slides to the floor carefully, you still in his arms. He shifts you so you are sitting up a little more in his grasp and brings one of his hands up to press his cloak firmly into your injured side, putting pressure on the wound in some desperate attempts to keep you alive. You don’t stir at the motion, still completely unconscious from your ordeal and Din feels a lump form in his throat.

“Don’t leave me kid, not yet,” he whispers desperately, head falling back against the wall as Cara navigates you all to safety.

-----

Omera walks from the small hut you and Cara had been sharing, wiping her crimson stained hands on her apron as Din approached her with frantic steps, “Is she-“ the words die in his throat before he can say them and he stays silent as he stares intently at the dark haired woman.

Omera gives him a small but terse smile, “She’s alive,” she begins, and Din lets out a large sigh, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

“Thank you, I don’t –“ Omera raises her hand, silencing the Mandalorian as she gives him an uncertain look.

“I said she was alive but-“ she stutters, her eyes searching the space around her as if looking for the right words, “we don’t have advanced medicine here. You’re lucky you had what you did on your ship or else I don’t even know if she would be alive right now,” she says seriously, “The next few days are crucial. She’s not out of the woods yet.”

Din stayed silent, taking in the gravity of the woman’s words before nodding curtly, “Can I…” he trails off, his question left hanging in the air between them.

Omera gives him a gentle smile and turns to the side, gesturing to the small shelter, “Yes. She’s not awake. I don’t know when she will be, she suffered severely, so it could be a while before she comes too.”

Din nods in understanding before walking past the woman and into the small home. The curtain falls shut behind him as he enters, and the afternoon light is the only thing illuminating the room. He takes in your form, lying peacefully on the small bed, sheet pulled up to your chest and arms resting at your side. If Omera hadn't told him otherwise and he wouldn’t have noticed the shallow rise and fall of your chest, Din would have thought you were dead. Your skin was uncharacteristically pale, and your breaths were coming out in shallow pants rather than long even breaths. Your body was fighting to keep you alive and Din’s entire being crumbled as one single thought raced through his mind.

This was all his fault.

The guilt he has been harboring since he had left you here on Sorgen seemed to spread within his chest even further as he took in the sight before him. Even though Omera and the other women who had been attending to you had cleaned away the blood and grime, the evidence of your torture was still clear. The dark black and yellow bruises adorning your temple and jaw, your split lip and brow, and the angry red marks around your wrists screamed of your abuse. Din took in a shuddering breath as he pulled up a nearby chair to the side of your bed and took a seat, leaning back slowly.

He had left you once. He wasn’t planning on doing it again.

----

You thought death would be more peaceful.

Instead, you were plagued by vivid flashes of your enslavement and your days held in captivity. Your torture was replayed over and over again along with less familiar images of Din spitting insults at you.

Those hurt the worst.

His burning words of hatred, and vile insults thrown your way as the image of him leaving you behind replayed over and over again, torturing you worse than when your captor was beating you. However, you did receive some reprieve when your eyes fluttered open for the first time and you realized that you were in fact alive. Your conscious state was brief. Just long enough to see Omera and Din rush over to you, saying words you couldn’t hear past the cotton in your ears before darkness and terrifying images consumed you once more.

From there on out, your flashes of consciousness felt more frequent. But you felt like you were drowning, fighting to stay afloat in the inky blackness that consumed your vision and kept you from fully awakening and seeing the world. When you did wake however, you managed to snag flashes of the world functioning around you.

Omera and Winta telling you stories. Cara telling you about her day and the brawls she won at the local cantina. Even some of the locals came in to say kind words or pray over you. But your favorite flashes were of Din. He never said much, you would just wake long enough to see him messing about in the hut or sitting next to you working awake at something with his knife. However, when he did speak it was often in, what you assumed, was his native language. You obviously couldn’t understand what he was saying, but one word he often repeated.

Verd’ika.

this word played over and over in your black blanketed mind among the flashes of nightmares you experienced, and it seemed to ground you. You had no way of knowing how long you had been unconscious, you just knew that you felt yourself getting slowly stronger and the nightmares faded, until one moment you peeled your eyes open and blinked rapidly in an attempt to adjust to the bright light streaming in through the windows. The first thing you noticed was the familiar sight of the woven wooden ceiling above you. You were still on Sorgen, and back in the village. You let out a relieved breath at the realization before your ears picked up sound of scraping stopping abruptly next to your head. You turned your head to the left slightly and your eyes landed on the familiar beskar clad figure sitting rigid in a seat next to your bed. You immediately try to sit up but cringe at the dull ache in your side letting out a surprised gasp.

Din instinctively reaches out to nudge you back down, but you flinch at his quick movements and he draws his hand back as if he had been burned. Blood rushes to your cheeks, and you lie back down, still looking at the Mandalorian.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice strained from days of disuse.

Din shakes his head, quickly reaching down beside him and producing a cup of water, offering it to you slowly, as if afraid to scare you again.

You take the cup gratefully and sit up slightly, careful not to jar you injured side, and down the whole cup in a few gulps.

Din takes the cup from your hand and sits back, hands returning to work with what they had been doing before, “You shouldn’t be the one apologizing,” his voice is surprisingly even, despite the emotions swirling within him as he watches you rest back against the pillows once more.

You swallow thickly, “If I had been more careful – more observant – I wouldn’t be in this mess,” you try to reason, “I didn’t tell them anything you know. They wanted to know where you and the kid were and I-“ you paused to take a breath, your mind running faster than your mouth could produce words, “I didn’t tell them anything I swear. I didn’t tell them anything Din, I promise I wouldn’t tell them where you were,” you felt tears start to pool at the edges of your vision, “You have to believe me I swear –“

“Stop!” Din’s modulated voice pierced the air and interrupted your frantic rambling, “Just stop.”

You sniffled pitifully but stayed silent and watched as Din’s hands gripped the items in his hands, a knife and a small piece of wood, before setting them aside and letting out a long sigh, “Why do you keep telling me that?” he breathes, incredulity seeping into his words.

You look at him questioningly, “What do you mean?” you ask slowly.

He pauses for a moment, seemingly debating his next words before he speaks up again, voice quiet and less sure this time, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Your eyes flick around the room as you try and find an answer to his question, racking your brain for the last clear memory you have. You finally scrunch your brows together and look back to Din, “I uh…I think it was when you brought me out of…wherever I was. I remember the sky, but everything is so –“ you wave hand around in the air flippantly, “foggy I don’t remember much of anything after the man cut me loose,” you admit quietly and turn your head to look at Din once more, “Why?”

Din leans forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped together, “Because the only thing you would say when we found you was that you didn’t tell them anything. And you just said it again, just now. Out of all the things you could have said or done…why was that it?” he asks, genuine concern and curiosity lacing his words.

You look away from his intense stare and instead turn to look out of the window instead. You knew why you said those things, you just weren’t sure if you wanted to admit it. Your fingers idly played with the sheet wrapped around you as you took in deep steadying breaths, trying to keep the tears at bay as you finally spoke.

“I didn’t want you to have another reason to hate me,” you whisper, so quiet you weren’t even sure if the man next to you had heard.

But he had. And he shot straight up and went rigid as the words met his ears.

“What?” he breathes out incredulously.

You felt tears start to fall from your eyes and slip down the sides of your face, dampening your hair on the pillow beneath you. Your body shook with silent sobs and pain blossomed in your side at the action. But you managed to speak through the tears, voice wet with emotion.

“You hate me!” you cry, “You have to, that’s the only reason I could come up with as to why you left,” your voice was shaking now and you gripped at the sheet tightly while the other hand wiped furiously at the fat tears falling from your eyes, “My parents hated me and the sold me, and then I found you and I must have fucked up somehow to make you hate me and leave me too!”

You weren’t even thinking straight at this point, all of your pent-up emotions from the past, however long, were coming out all at once and you didn’t know what was coming from your mouth. Din sat in stunned silence.

You thought he hated you?

That couldn’t be farther from the truth. Din had never felt these kinds of emotions before. A strong and almost innate need to protect you, keep you out of harm's way, and also try and show you what it was like to have a halfway decent parental figure in your life.

Parental figure? Is that what this was?

Din hadn’t put a label on it before. At first, he had mainly just felt a sense of sympathetic pity for you, a rookie bounty hunter. But as your time together wore on, he felt like he needed to be there more, help you and guide you. So, the insinuation that you thought he hated you? Din didn’t know what to do.

“I don’t hate you.” he says finally, voice firm and to the point as usual.

Your red rimmed eyes glance over to him and your sniffles start to slow, “Then why did you leave? After everything I told you – my past, about my parents selling me off – why did you turn around and do the exact same thing they did? You left me.” Your voice cracked on the last word, and Din felt his heart clench painfully in his chest.

“I didn’t – I don’t-'' he stumbled over his words grasping for any sense of anything that would keep him grounded, help him form his jumbled up thoughts into words, but he just ended up sighing and sitting back in his seat. He wasn’t used to this. These emotional confrontations are not things he knows how to deal with. He knows how to hunt, stalk, and kill. Not talk.

You’re still looking at him expectantly and so he finally forms some sort of answer, “I didn’t know what else to do. This place is safe, you could have a safe and happy life here with Omera and the other villagers. With me and the kid, its constant danger, looking over your shoulder, restless nights. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“But why didn’t you ask me?” you question, “I was happy. But only because you and the kid were here. You guys are –“ Family? That’s what you wanted to say but you pause, unsure of if you were ready to say those words out loud just yet and shook your head, deciding against it before continuing, “I was happy with the way things were.”

Din doesn’t say anything right away, but you see him nod and take that as an understanding. You let out an exhausted sigh and shift slightly in bed, resting your head into the pillow and rubbing at your eyes, slightly irritated from crying.

“How long was I out for anyway?” you ask, changing the subject.

Din let’s out an inaudible sigh, silently happy with the change of topic. This conversation was leading down a road he didn’t want to go down at the moment.

He relaxed slightly before picking up his earlier abandoned items and returned to carving away strips of wood with his knife, “You’ve been out for about two weeks, give or take.”

Your eyes widen, “What? How? Do we need to leave, is it safe?” you ramble out, mind racing with questions.

Din stops his work and shakes his head, “We’re fine. We have patrols at all times, and we haven’t had another hunter since I returned,” he begins, “As for the how, you were in rough shape kid. You –“ he paused, the terrifying memories from weeks ago rushing back, but he shakes them away, “I was almost too late.” He offers.

You swallow thickly at the meaning behind his words and return your gaze to the ceiling. You had almost died. Some asshole in the woods had taken you and almost killed you, and the only reason you were alive is because Din came back for you. you once again felt tears gather in your eyes, but they didn’t fall, and they weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of gratitude and happiness. Din has been the first and only person in your entire life to care about you, and it didn’t seem to hit you until just now. He had risked his mission, his and the kid’s safety, to come back for you, to save you. And that meant more to you than anything in the entire galaxy. You took in a deep breath before letting out a shaky sigh.

“Thank you,” you breath, your gaze flicked back to the Mandalorian and you gave him a small smile, “For saving me.”

Din looked up from his work at your words, but he couldn’t help the bitterness that swelled in his chest at, what he thought, was misdirected gratitude. He was the reason you were lying there on the bed. He was the reason you were tortured and almost died in his arms. Yet here you are thanking him for ‘saving’ you when he was the reason you needed saving in the first place. He wanted to tell you these things. Tell you that you had no reason to be thanking him, to tell you that he was the last person who deserved gratitude for anything. But he bit his tongue, and instead nodded his head and returned to his work.

“Of course.”

You roll your eyes at his short and to the point response - Same old Mando. Your eyes fall to his form again, and you suddenly remember the words he had muttered to you in your slightly unconscious state. A foreign language to your ears.

“What were you saying?” your voice breaks the peaceful silence, but Din doesn’t stop his work or look up.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“When I was out, I would sometimes have these like...flashes of consciousness –“ you begin, “and a couple times I heard you saying stuff in, what I assume is another language, and…”you paused briefly when you say him tense up slightly at your mention of catching him talking to you, but you decide to continue, “and you kept saying one word a lot…verd-verdecka- ver…”

“Verd’ika. It’s Mando’a.” he says simply.

Your brows perk up at this information, your curiosity peaked, “Is that like the Mandalorian language?”

Din nods, “Yes, they taught it to me when I was a foundling. I-I don’t know much since I didn’t grow up on Mandalore but…” he trails off, scraping more intently at the wood in his hands.

“What does it mean?” you ask, “verd’ika.”

The word rolls clumsily off your tongue and Din can’t help but chuckle and correct your pronunciation, but he doesn’t answer your question, his posture queuing you into the fact that this conversation is making him uncomfortable. So, despite your curiosity, you drop the subject and instead gesture to the items in his hands.

“What are you doing anyway?”

Mando stills his ministrations and turns the small piece of wood over in his hands before opening his palm, displaying the object to you. your eyes scanned over the chunk of wood and you realize that it is the makings of a crudely carved bird.

You look from the whittling project then back up to Din and give him a wry smile, “Since when do you whittle?” you ask curiously, a twinkle of humor in your eye.

He lets out an exasperated huff before snatching his project back defensively, “Well, someone has to watch you and I wasn’t going to sit here and do nothing all day,” he mutters.

You let out a small laugh shrug your shoulders, “To each their own I suppose. It didn’t look half bad though.” You say earnestly.

Din sets down his work on the small table beside your bed and moves to stand, “Yeah, yeah,” he says jokingly, moving to the side of your bed, “Now since we have some daylight to kill, we should get you up and moving. Omera said you’d need to build your strength.”

You chuckle at his not so subtle change of topic but smile and nod. You were ready to get better and get off this planet. As much as you loved the villagers, this place held too many bad memories.

The rest of the day was filled with short yet exhausting walks. Your injury had healed considerably since your treatment, especially with the help of what little bacta spray Din had on hand. But it was still somewhat painful to do any extended period of activity. So after several laps around the krill ponds, a dinner break, and a few more stops to see Omera and Cara – who worried over you like two mother hens – Din walked slowly back to your hut keeping a constant eye on you until you sat on the side of your bed gently, letting out a tired huff.

“Well that was exhausting,” you chuckle, shifting to lay back into the mattress, pulling the covers up and over you.

“You need to rest,” Din’s voice spoke, returning to his earlier post in the chair next to your bed, “We’ll do it again tomorrow.”

You let out an exaggerated groan, “you’re a slave driver I swear to the maker,” you tease, “I almost died, can I not have a break?”

You see Mando tense at your words and you feel a pang of guilt shoot through you, the implication behind your word choice hitting you, “I was just joking Mando. I know I have to get my strength back,” he seemed to relax at your words and he picked up his wood project once more, settling back into the chair.

You furrowed your brow and waved your hand at him, “You don’t have to babysit me. Go get some rest, take off your helmet for probably the first time in weeks, you need rest too you know,” you urge quietly.

Din shook his head, not stopping his work, “I’m fine, I’ve been taking shifts with Omera and Cara. I don’t mind,” he says genuinely.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t push the subject and instead settled into your bed, exhaustion weighing down your limbs and drawing your eyes closed. You quickly fell asleep to the light breeze of Sorgen and the comforting sounds of Din’s blade scraping wood.

-----

The musty smell of your prison fills your nose and your eyes snap open. Taking in your surroundings frantically. You feel your heart slam against your ribcage as you’re met with the terrifyingly familiar eyes of the man who bought you, your ‘master’ staring back at you menacingly. Your brain is trying to make sense of the situation.

You were in your cell on Sorgen, suspended from the ceiling once more, but the man who stole your childhood from you is here too?

You can’t help the scream that rips from your throat as you see him lift up a large bucket the tangy smell of acid burning your nostrils. But before the liquid can meet your skin, the man disappears from your vision and is replaced by your captor from two weeks ago. His hot breath fanning over your face.

“Looks like the Mandalorian never came back for you-“ he clicks his tongue, “A shame really. I was hoping you would lure him here, but it looks like he doesn’t care enough about you to even come save you.”

His harsh words cause your heart to sink. What was happening? Was everything a dream, did Din never come back to save you?

Before you could come up with an answer the man doused you in a bucket of ice cold water, and you felt yourself falling through the air, only to land roughly on the ground, blades of grass slipping between your fingers and scraping your knees.

“Your parents were right to sell you,” a familiar modulated voice fills your ears and you quickly shift to sit on your heels, looking up confusedly at the towering Mandalorian above you.

“What? Din what are you saying?” you ask, tears filling your vision.

He lets out a bitter scoff, “You heard me. You’re worthless. A burden. It’s no wonder your parents sold you off. Why do you think I left you behind?” his voice is filled with venom as he stands threateningly above you.

“Din, that’s not true you said –“

“Well I lied. You were right, I do hate you. you’ve been nothing but a burden since I picked you up on that planet all those months ago,” he seethes.

And as if his hateful words aren’t enough already you see multiple figures of the people you know surround your shaking form; Cara, Omera, your parents, Din, all shouting hateful words towards you.

“Worthless!”

“Stupid girl!” “Can’t even fight your way out.” “Pathetic – a burden to everyone!”

Your breathing is erratic as you finally pull your knees to your chest slapping your hands over your ears in a desperate attempt to drown out the scathing voices, but it did no good. It’s like they were coming from inside your head.

“Stop it, stop!” you wailed.

“STOP!”

------

You shot up in your bed a shrill cry of desperation ripping from your throat as tears stream down your face and a cold sweat makes your clothes stick to your skin.

You see Din startle from his position in the chair, seemingly asleep before your cries woke him up. He quickly came to your bedside and before he could ask what had happened you threw your arms around him, ignoring the pain in your side, and buried your face in his shoulder, sobs wracking your body.

You felt his hands hesitantly come to rest on your back, obviously unsure of himself in situations like this, before he slowly started to rub your back, “Are you okay?”

You shake your head, “I’m sorry – I’m so sorry,” you manage to push past the tears, words coming out in a shuddering mess past your uneven breaths.

“What? What’s going on?” His voice was thick with concern.

“I was back there,” you sob, “And all of you w-were yelling at me calling me a burden, and worthless-“ you choke out, “Please don’t leave, please – ‘m so sorry.”

Din felt his heart constrict in his chest as your violent sobs and wet cries met his ears, whatever had happened in your nightmare had clearly shaken you, and from what he gathered from what little you told him, he knew why.

He held you closer to him, “It's okay kid, I’m not leaving. It’s okay,” he assured, voice quiet.

You didn’t say anything, but your cries had stopped, and your sobs were reduced to sniffles, as you stay wrapped in the man’s arms. He was suddenly hit again with the realization of how much of a kid you still were. Unsure of the future and terrified of being left behind again, and he felt his blood boil at the fact that you had to endure this. You didn’t deserve this. These sleepless nights and traumatic memories.

He sighed, and his attention was once again drawn back to you, who’s sniffles had ceased, and breathing had evened out.

You were asleep again.

He gently returned you to bed, and pulled the covers up over you, your peaceful expression a dramatic difference from your demeanor moments ago. But he revels in the momentary peace you are hopefully experiencing in your slumber and returns to his position in the chair, watching over you until morning.

-----

When morning does come, you wake up alone. Your eyes adjust to the pale morning light quickly and you sit up slowly, looking around the small home. You immediately notice that Din is absent, and you remember your nightmare from last night, but also his calming words after. Maybe you had weirded him out, you weren’t oblivious to the fact that Din was a man of few words and terrible comforting skills. The second thing you notice is the small wooden carving on your bedside table, Din’s earlier project now complete. You slowly reach over and take the light-yellow object in your hand, fingers running over the smooth surface of the carved wood. He had actually done quite a good job with the small figure. It fit in your palm and was no bigger than your hand and small enough to fit in your pocket. Your eyes scanned carefully over the figurine; it was in fact a bird, but Din had added beautiful spread wings to the head and body you had seen earlier. It’s small beak and eyes were delicately carved along with the feather details on the wings. You ran your fingers over the carving lightly, taking in every ridge and bump until you came to the bottom and felt an unfamiliar etching.

You turned the wooden figure over carefully and your eyes widened at the words inscribed on the bottom of the bird, and you felt tears burn at your eyes as you took them in.

Verd’ika

‘little soldier’

///

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Gravity: A Summary of the Development of Jeong TaeEul’s Feelings for Lee Gon in “The King: Eternal Monarch (Part 1 of 3)

*spoiler warnings for episodes 1-8*

I’m responding to a specific point that critics have raised about “The King: Eternal Monarch having a slow pace while the romance between the leads have happened at an extremely fast pace.  That, or there has been no development whatsoever.  In the K-drama world, yes it was fast, but in my humble opinion, just because it was fast doesn’t mean it was underdeveloped.  I think it had to be that way because of the kind of characters they were created to be.  And I am going to try and prove this by tracing the development of Jeong Tae-eul’s feelings from the first episode to the 8th only.  I’m leaving Lee Gon out because his emotional journey is different from Jeong Tae-eul’s and he comes into the series with his feelings almost fully developed.  The one that needs to catch up is Jeong Tae-eul so I will follow her.

Now, let’s look at these two characters.

Lee Gon is a mathematician and well versed in scientific matters.  He is a man of logic, relentless in the pursuit of a final answer to any equation. He comes into the series already half in love with Jeong Tae-eul.  Upon seeing that she exists, he pursues her.  His character’s conflict now is how to convince Jeong Tae-eul that what he feels for her is real.  But before he even gets there, he first has to prove that his identity as the King of Corea is also real.  Aside from this, he also has his own emotional journey to take on but that’s another discussion.

This one is about Jeong Tae-eul because it might seem baffling that she spent 6 episodes seemingly annoyed and exasperated with Lee Gon’s crazy declarations of King-ness and her utmost importance in his life, and then suddenly came running into his arms by the 7th episode and ended up confessing to him by the 8th.   It’s not that baffling if you take a closer look at her character.

Jeong Tae-eul is a taekwondo master, detective, not very good in math and science, but well versed in chicken and beer.  What with her being a detective, one would think that she would be as logical as Lee Gon.  She is.

But she and Lee Gon do not have the same kind of logic.  Lee Gon can grasp non-material knowledge like theorems and possibilities of other worlds from a theoretical point of view and only cancel them out when they are proven incorrect.  Like a mathematical equation.  It’s also why, between the two of them, he’s the more romantic one.  But Jeong Tae-eul’s logic is that of a flat-earther. I’m not sure if that brand carries the same stigma in South Korea as it does in the west, but I’m sure that the writer, Kim Eun-sook, did not mean to make her look like a nutter by branding her a flat-earther.  It just means that she’s one of those people who need to see something first before they believe it.  It’s also why she speaks so bluntly.  She says what she needs to say as honestly as possible because she demands the same kind of transparency in order for her to believe someone else.

She was also never really good in school, particularly in math. (Okay, science too.) Even Kang Shin-jae knows it as shown by his tired expression during the time they went on a stakeout.  This means abstract concepts like square roots, quantum mechanics, and parallel worlds fly over her head.  She relies on physicality to navigate the world. That’s what Taekwondo, a contact sport, gives her.  She perceives the world through her senses.  Eating fried chicken and drinking beer satisfy her body, her sense of taste and smell. They’re real to her and so she likes doing it. But if she can’t hold them, see them, smell them, taste them, and hear them, then they do not exist.  

And this is why, when Lee Gon couldn’t produce his identification papers when they first met at Gwanghwamun Square, refused to tell her his name, and told her he lived in a parallel world, it drove her up the wall.  

“IF YOU KNEW I WOULDN’T BELIEVE YOU, WHY SAY SUCH BULLSHIT? SHOW ME YOUR ID”

“I DON’T HAVE AN ID BECAUSE I AM WHO I AM”

If she can’t believe that he’s the unnameable King of Corea, how else is she going to believe that she is as important to him as he says she is?

In Episode 2, she gets his money, fingerprints, and DNA tested – methods she knows will work, and trust to do so. In Episodes 3 – 4, the fingerprints and DNA turn up with nothing.  The money, despite appearances, is proved to be genuine by Forensics by the 4th episode. But her first clue that Lee Gon might actually be telling the truth was his diamond button.  A legitimate jeweler accepted it in exchange for cash in the 2nd episode.

But it wasn’t until the 4th episode that the pieces of evidence began to stack up to support Lee Gon’s claims.  When he left to go home and Jeong Tae-eul saw that Maximus was gone from her yard, she actually searched for Lee Gon’s  movements through CCTV footage.  She found him disappearing into the bamboo forest and that was it. Although she couldn’t confirm that he had an actual home, the fact that he had disappeared into somewhere told her that he must have one.  It was also on the 4thepisode when she lost her ID card and it was reissued to her exactly on the date that Lee Gon told her it would be—Nov. 11, 2019.  This shakes her to the core because her flat world just wavered. And when Lee Gon reappears at the end of episode 4, she tests him about her ID picture and asked if it her hair was up or down and what she was wearing.  He answers correctly and seeing that he was finally getting through to her, he asks the very thing a flat-earther, taekwondo master, detective would want to hear,

“DO YOU WANT TO SEE FOR YOURSELF? COME WITH ME TO MY WORLD.”

She says yes and when she crosses over that barrier, all the flat-earthing walls she put up to protect herself came crashing down.  And when she lands in the Kingdom of Corea to the tune of his guards calling him, “Your Highness,” she finally gets the two things she had asked of him back in episode 2.

“I AM THE KING OF THE KINGDOM OF COREA.  AND MY NAME, WHICH YOU CANNOT SAY, IS LEE GON.”

He does have a home. He does have a name. He is a king.  This means that everything he ever said was true – including the way he feels for her.

Now, I know what you’re going to say.  She can’t have fallen in love with him in one day just because he’s got a home and a name. Honestly though, I’m pretty sure most of us have fallen in love with undeserving men for less than that.

Episode 5 may have been very significant when it came to a shift in her feelings but, things have been brewing beneath the surface since their first meeting.  She just put a lid on it because she couldn’t properly identify him and what he was.  Now that she has no excuse anymore, standing on his kingdom and even brazenly saying his name aloud, she’s now forced to confront this strange pull that this man has on her. It took her 8 episodes to explore this gravitational pull she has with this man and it is developed in an uneven pace.  

Episodes 1 – 4 are slow paced but with a huge amount of screen time.  By the 5th episode, their interactions become fast and heavy, but they begin to share less screen time together, making all their moments even more bittersweet up up until the 8th episode when Jeong Tae-eul properly tells him that she loves him.

EPISODE 1

On their first meeting, he hugs her with his eyes wide open.  He has pined after her for 25 years. What started out as deep gratitude for his savior had grown into a balm for his lonely existence as a young monarch. He wanted to find her and he did.  This is probably why he couldn’t even close his eyes when he embraced her—someone he had searched for for so long was finally in his arms and he didn’t want to miss a minute of it.

EPISODE 2

In the precinct, Jeong Tae-eul continues to interrogate him much to her annoyance but didn’t miss the fact that he said, “I have finally met you.”  Her brain tells her this is strange, but obviously, not enough to make her fall.  Nevertheless, it got her attention. And his answer will continue to boggle her mind.

“I WAS CURIOUS ABOUT YOU AND I THOUGHT ABOUT YOU A LOT. YOU ALSO LOOK BETTER IN REAL LIFE”

She gets a weird answer, and then a compliment. Her brain latches on to the weird answer and sets aside the compliment.  However, the weird answer also suggests the pre-existence of a connection between them that she knows nothing about. This draws her into his mad world.  

“THE PROOF IS RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU.  I CAME FROM THE OTHER WORLD.”

He fixes his steady gaze on her after saying this.  The subtext here is, “I came from the other world to find you. I exist now, because of you. And now you’re questioning my existence when you’re at the root of it all.” But of course, all this is lost on JTE. However, she does notice that something more is bubbling beneath his words and his very still form because she then asks,

“WHY DO YOU LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT?”

“HOW ELSE SHOULD I LOOK AT YOU?”

He answers maddeningly. He says this in a teasing manner, breaking his intense eye contact.  But even if the manner is meant to irritate her, it also carries another layer of meaning known only to Lee Gon and the audience, “I don’t know any other way to look at you except with awe and love given that I’ve spent the last 25 years searching for your shadow.”

All throughout this episode he drops heart bombs on her one after another, including a proposal/command to marry.

“ARE YOU LEAVING? WHY? DON’T GO. IT TOOK 25 YEARS FOR ME TO MEET YOU.  I HOPE TODAY WILL BE A LONG DAY.”

“I HAVEN’T DECIDED YET. I SHOULD HAVE, BUT I POSTPONED IT FOR LATER. I LIKE BEING HERE WITH YOU LIKE THIS.”

“JTE I TAKE YOU TO BE MY WIFE, THE QUEEN.  YOU JUST BECAME THE REASON WHY I SHOULD STAY IN THIS WORLD.”

However, she ignores all this, ridicules him, or changes the subject. Also, she behaves this way because she doesn’t seem to have any romantic bone in her body.  However, only this one incident seems to have visibly affected her. He plays up the entire issue of tasting food for poison before he eats their chicken dinner and uses it to tell her this:

“THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING. BECAUSE YOU EXISTED SOMEWHERE, I WAS LESS LONELY FOR THE PAST 25 YEARS.”

For one, imagine being someone’s salvation from a lonely life for 25 years.  It was a declaration too heavy and too earnest to dismiss and Jeong Tae-eul stares at him, almost frozen. You can see her lips move so minutely, it would be easy to miss, as if she’s trying to say something, respond or change the subject as she usually does when she’s made uncomfortable by his sudden declarations of affections.  But for the first time, she can’t.  It is Lee Gon who changes the subject by advertising the chicken he’s eating.  

Her inability to dismiss this shows that she listened to him this time.   She doesn’t believe his words yet at this point, but something in the way he said them made it hard for her to respond in her usual brusque manner. This stays with her.

Towards the end of the episode, she left Lee Gon standing alone in the middle of her yard, possibly cold and hungry, to grab some chicken and beer with Sin-jae and Eun-sop.  However, upon remembering what Lee Gon told her last night, about being the the reason why he hadn’t been too lonely and trying to find a reason to stay in this world, she went back for him.  She actually gives up chicken and beer for Lee Gon.

EPISODE 3

Lee Gon’s geeky comparison of Jeong Tae-eul to Zero was beautiful but I’m pretty sure she understood none of it. I understood only half.  Having understood none of it, she remains unaffected. His DNA results haven’t been out at this point in time yet so she remains doubtful and issues a challenge for him to take her to his parallel world.

Their walk through the bamboo forest, fruitless of course, irritated her. But three things of significance happened that time. She found out from him that his parents died and that his first duty as king at 8 years old was to bury his father.  Just like before, she couldn’t respond to this and it is Lee Gon who changed the subject when her face started showing signs of distress.  He doesn’t know it yet, but Jeong Tae-eul’s mother passed away when she was very young so she knew a thing or two about losing a parent.  And she just realized that Lee Gon lost both of his.

Being able to put herself in his shoes makes him real person for her, a scary thought for someone who still doesn’t believe anything he says.  And because Lee Gon allowed himself to be vulnerable, to be open, with her, it became easy for her to do the same for him.

When he asked her a personal question about why she chose to be a cop, she had actually answered honestly.  This event is the 2nd significant event for this episode.

“WHY DID YOU DECIDE TO BECOME A COP? IT’S A DANGEROUS JOB.”

“NOT EVERYONE IN THE WORLD CAN BE BRAVE.  SO I DECIDED TO BECOME BRAVE.”

This was probably the first real connection they ever made.  It will be later revealed in one of those extended flashback scenes in Episode 4 how they had this actual conversation in the bamboo forest.  But as of Episode 3, this detail about one of her most important life choices is revealed by showcasing Jeong Tae-eul and Kang Shin Jae fighting a pack of goons while at work, while the voices of Lee Gon and Jeong Tae-eul having this short conversation are played on screen throughout the fight, as Lee Gon observed them from a distance.  This might make him look like a ponce, like a King who would never dirty himself with a street fight. But what this scene shows is how Lee Gon respects her as a soldier, a warrior even.  

Now, given that Lee Gon knows why she became a cop and how important it was to her, he had respected her enough to not intrude in her fight, in her work.  This is Lee Gon recognizing how capable she was to fight and defend herself, and trusting in her abilities enough to not intervene.  And for a woman who prides herself in her strength, this would register in her mind, despite Lee Gon still being a source of annoyance to her at that point.

And lastly, on their way back, he put his coat over her shoulders because in the middle of her frustrated rant earlier about following him on this foolish errand, she said she was cold.  This appeared to have touched her quite a bit.  She has been helpful to him, yes.  But she had also been mocking him, ridiculing him, and doubted him every step of the way.  And yet here he was, still being very considerate of her. This also means, he listens to her.  How can that not be attractive for any woman? A man who actually listens.

EPISODE 4

“SO THAT’S MY STORY. TELL ME WHAT KIND OF KING YOU ARE. A YOUNG, HANDSOME, AND RICH KING?”

More of their conversation in the bamboo forest is revealed in this episode.  This line is significant for both Lee Gon and Jeong Tae-eul. By asking him this question, sincerely, without any trace of sarcasm or ridicule, she opens herself up to the possibility that he has been telling the truth about who he is all this time. She openly acknowledges his identity as a king, for the first time.  And if you look at her eyes, they are a little softer now, not as sharp as when they bicker. (Of course, the bickering can be considered foreplay or unresolved sexual tension.) Anyway, this goes without saying that her question was sincere too, in response to his earlier sincerity.  She genuinely wanted to know what kind of king he was. Furthermore, she also openly acknowledges his handsomeness.  She has eyes, of course she knows.  She stated it as an observation. Now, it’s supposed to be a compliment, but she cleverly sandwiched it inside a question, so it doesn’t look she gave it at all.  This could very well be a very very mild case, of Jeong Tae-eul flirting. But just a mild one.

Deeper into the episode, we see her in the library, reading up on the existence of a parallel universe.  So now, she’s also acknowledging the possibility that he could have been telling the truth about where he lived.  So she sits there, trying to learn his world.  An episode ago, he sat in the same library, on a chair opposite hers, trying to learn about her world.  And then we are treated to a beautiful split screen of Lee Gon, sitting in the same library, but in his world, missing her, not knowing that across the universe, she was doing the same thing.  She’s not exactly missing him with the same fervor as he is with her.  But she is making leaps in bounds in the romance department here because she is essentially trying to learn more about him.  You know when you have a crush on someone who likes Star Trek, and you’ve never seen an episode, you start to look up stuff about it, trying to learn something that is of interest to him so you can have common ground? That’s kind of what she’s doing here. She is trying to understand him. It is ironically at this point where they are farthest from each other, that they were actually becoming closer.

By this time though, all the evidence Jeong Tae-eul has of Lee Gon all point to the fact that he was telling the truth (button, DNA, fingerprint, money bill, disappearing into the bamboo forest from the CCTV).  Then the last piece of the puzzle came to her in this episode – her ID card issued on Nov. 11, 2019. So by the time Lee Gon showed up at the end of this episode, she had no excuses left. Everything he told her had been proven true, and all pointed towards an existence beyond her world.  She tried to test him one more time by asking what she wore and how her hair looked in her new ID picture.  HE answered both correctly in the most tender way possible, because he wasn’t just answering her question. He was reliving every day he had spent staring at her picture for the last 25 years!) Anyway, when he answered both questions correctly, the flat-earther in her was left with no more questions except for the first two that she had ever asked of him.  His name. His home.  And because he had waited until he had gotten rid of all her other questions save for those two, the moment he asked her,

“DO YOU WANT TO SEE FOR YOURSELF? COME WITH ME TO MY WORLD.”

there really was nothing left to do but to give in to whatever was pulling her to Lee Gon and his world.  She wanted to know those answers.  She wanted to know him. And of course, the start playing Kim Jong Wan’s “Gravity” in the background. A song about surrendering to an undeniably pull you feel towards someone who is destined for you.