#This episode was unexpected but so so welcome

[whoops-ahaha]

This image but it's Powder and Ekko

[scentedcollectorconnoisseur]

This image but it's Powder and Ekko…(Read More)

[jenscx]

CALL IT WANT YOU WANT — yu jimin x f!reader

the self-on kode with karina had boosted your popularity as a solo member immensely. you find yourself invited to another show; nothing much prepared. yet, you weren’t exactly alone this time.

TAGS — fluff, lesserafim member!yn, flirty!karina, continuation of magnetic, lee youngji’s show, lowk crack

WORDCOUNT — 2.3k

your manager drops you off in front of an apartment complex. waving goodbye to him, and with a promise to not stir up any trouble, you enter the apartment building, nerves trembling. reaching the lobby, you press on the call button, dialling in lee youngji’s apartment number.

“hello!” you greet as youngji’s face comes into view.

“oh my,” youngji gasps, “hurry up before i leave!”

“this is your house though?” the video ends abruptly. you laugh as you enter the lift.

the lift slowly brings you up, a stranger eyeing you weirdly. pulling up the mask closer to your face, you resist the urge to run away.

the lift dings, and you exit, turning corners to finally reach her apartment. pressing on the doorbell gingerly, you start to remove your shoes. you hear youngji’s rapid footsteps as she approaches.

“y/n-ssi!” youngji shrieks. cheers resound from the small crowd of staff. cameras and lights form a semicircle, capturing your every move. you smile shyly at everyone, waving your hand.

“welcome to my house!”

“Is this your actual house?” you ask, “not like a set?”

youngji laughs, “what makes you think i can afford a set like this? of course it’s my actual house!” you nod, grin plastered on your face as you sit down on the cushion. youngji immediately starts introducing the various food items she prepared for you.

yet, when she points at a certain plate, your eyes widen in recognition as she states, “that’s for our other guest, she likes tonkatsu.”

“other guest…?” you repeat, “my manager didn’t say anything about another guest.”

youngji grins at you apologetically, “because we didn’t inform him about it! no worries, you should be well-acquainted with her!”

the staff laughs at your reaction, glaring at youngji who paces around the room.

the webcam rings again. you try to soothe your nerves by slurping up the noodles youngji had prepared. acquainted with you? and someone who likes tonkatsu? you couldn’t believe it. could youngji really manage to get..?

“karina unnie! welcome back to my house!” your heart drops.

the familiar idol peeks around the corner.

“y/n?” jimin gapes. you share a similar reaction. youngji claps gleefully at the interaction.

“welcome back my favourite unnie and my newest unnie!” your eyes narrow while jimin’s crinkle into an eye smile.

“please take a seat next to y/n unnie!” you tense up before shifting slightly to accommodate for the unexpected arrival. jimin grins, sitting down with her humongous bag. “hi, nice to see you again. you haven’t replied to my message yet.”

“i was busy,” you reply in a low voice. jimin only rolls her eyes and moves in closer. you feel your throat constrict at the closeness.

“youngji, can i have water please?” you ask. the girl mentioned immediately brings out a large bottle from the fridge, placing it on the table. she clears her throat, “okay, now that we are all settled! today we have y/n-ssi and karina-ssi!”

you cheer awkwardly along with the staff.

“this is the first time we have two people from different groups!” youngji exclaims, “unnie, of course, has been here before and y/n is here for the first time.”

youngji turns to you, “have you watched unnie’s episode?”

“ah… no i haven’t…” you glance at jimin apologetically. the idol turns to you, affronted.

“y/n, that’s so hurtful!” jimin pouts. you look away, coughing to mask the choking sensation caused by her big puppy eyes.

you take a large gulp of alcohol, youngji laughs at your expense.

“have you watched any of y/n-ssi’s content recently then?” youngji prompts.

jimin sighs, hands going to massage her temples exaggeratedly, “of course! i watched her vlog to japan and her dazed interview.”

you try to hide your red face behind the glass of alcohol, eyes darting from jimin’s piercing gaze.

“y/n-ssi, did you hear that? unnie has been keeping up with your content!” your ears flush maroon.

“sorry… i’ve been busy with stuff,” you defend yourself. jimin giggles, sipping on her miniature cup. her posture seems relaxed and calm, of course, since this would be her second time appearing on the show. meanwhile, you sit upright, meekly staring at youngji.

“how have you guys been? aespa’s having a comeback, right?”

jimin brightens up, “yes, it’s our first full album. we have a pre-release single called supernova and our title track is armageddon! please show lots of love since it will be our first time promoting a full album!” the staff breaks out in applause. you clap along.

“y/n-ssi!” youngji calls out, “are you going to buy their album?” you gape at youngji, “uh, sure!”

“shouldn’t you ask unnie for a signed copy?”

“ah… uhm, karina-ssi—”

jimin pouts at you, “call me unnie and i’ll give it to you!”

you feel faint at the close proximity of her beauty.

“unnie…”

the idol laughs, patting you on the back, “youngji, isn’t she so cute? her reaction is the opposite of minjeong but they’re both so funny.”

“what’s your mbti? wait no— i’ll guess!” youngji shrieks. even before she opens her mouth a second time, jimin swiftly answers, “istj!”

“oh, sorry, but even if you’re older than me you can’t just interrupt like that,” youngji deadpans. you choke on the water you were drinking. jimin only swats at the host, “i was helping you. you definitely couldn’t guess her mbti.”

you cough, “jimin is correct.”

“unnie, you’re istj? wow!”

“i think it’s quite obvious, no?” you ask, pointing at yourself. jimin shoots you a smile.

“how do you guys feel about your episode on self-on kode reaching five million views? it’s one of the most popular videos now. please say something to the camera,” youngji asks. jimin nudges you while she takes a bite out of the tonkatsu. you blush thinking about the video.

“i’m thankful for all of jimin’s fans who watched the video and enjoyed our interaction. it was my first time appearing solo and i was worried that my personality would be too timid and shy. but i’m glad our fans liked the video,” you smile at the camera, “to all the mys and fearnots, i love you all.”

youngji sighs, “unnie.”

“yes?”

“should we just get married? i think i should pay more taxes to witness your smile.”

jimin interrupts again, cheeks puffed with food, “no!”

the subtitle underneath would read, ‘in a fight between whales, the shrimp is the one that gets hurt.’

“y/n is mine,” jimin says after swallowing. you just stare at her incredulously.

“unnie, you can’t just claim people like that! what if y/n unnie doesn’t like you!”

“i don’t care, i met her first.” you think this side of jimin is incredibly childish. and cute.

youngji frowns but then bursts out into laughter, “okay let’s say, we share y/n unnie.”

jimin shakes her head.

“okay, pick between, no shin-chan or no y/n— let’s play a balance game!” your eyes widen as youngji yells. maybe too much energy was a bad thing.

“three, two, one, answer!”

jimin huffs, “no y/n…”

you chuckle, of course jimin’s love for shin-chan would prevail. you roughly remember the boo keychain she had given you last time after the shoot ended, thankful that you dealt with her nonsense.

you didn’t bother telling her you had fun. she could probably tell from the smile on your face.

“lee youngji, jay park or y/n? three, two, one—”

youngji slams the table, scoffing, “unnie, let’s just continue the shoot without you.”

jimin claps gleefully. as the idol laughs, her hand comes striking down on your back. you yelp in pain, surprised by the forcefulness of her slap.

“—oh! i’m sorry!”

you narrow your eyes at jimin, “was that on purpose?”

“i would never slap someone like that on purpose!” jimin was such a liar. you’ve been her victim many times.

“unnie, even y/n unnie is scared of you,” youngji says, bringing out a candy ring from her pocket, “that’s why, y/n unnie should marry me instead.”

you laugh loudly, reaching out your hand to receive the ring.

“hey, didn’t you give me a shin-chan ring?”

“that was in the past, it is all about the future—”

“i’m going to slap you next!”

while the two bicker, you slip on the ring, yet it doesn’t fit quite as snug as you hoped. a little loose around the edges, jimin notices your call for help. deft fingers wrap around yours, trying to tighten the ring. a snippet of her tongue pokes out, eyes focused on securing the ring. your eyes flicker to her face. it’s adorable how jimin is so concentrated.

“there,” her eyes shone, “it’s secure now.”

you look back at her, mumbling, “thank you, jimin.”

a voice breaks your eye contact, “i’m sorry, but is this a blind date? am i interrupting? should i leave?” youngji stands up.

you hastily try to pull her arm back to sit down, “no!”

“yes!” jimin nods. you glare at jimin, who pouts again. what was god thinking when he made jimin? did he not consider how many heart attacks her pout would cause?

“ah, young love,” youngji sighs, lamenting as she sits down again, “unnie has mentioned you countless times on bubble.”

“oh, really?” you turn to jimin, in disbelief.

jimin scowls, “lee youngji, don’t buy my bubble just to tease me.”

“i didn’t buy your bubble!”

“ah, you bought mark’s one, right?” you ask, remembering the episode with twice. youngji nods excitedly, “you watched nayeon and chaeyoung unnie’s episode?”

you nod, “i’m a once, it was a very fun episode.”

“unnie, flatter me more and i’ll ask them to text you.”

laughing, you shake your head, “it’s okay, i’m happy being a once and watching their content.”

“i heard you were a fan of got7 too.”

“yes, ahgase was actually my nickname in the self-on kode episode.”

“jimin unnie, you said you liked older women in the episode,” youngji asks, “how did you feel when you found out y/n unnie is younger?”

“of course i was still happy! i liked y/n ever since lesserafim debut,” jimin says, “and park y/n, you watch twice but not aespa content?”

your eyes widen as you shake your hands in front of you, denying, “no, i watched twice’s episode a long time ago! i didn’t have time to watch yours!”

“what if it was minjeong who came? would you watch it?”

at this point, jimin was just having fun teasing you.

“i really didn’t have time,” you whine. jimin sighs dramatically, “maybe i’m the only one putting in effort in this friendship.”

“jimin unnie, i think you should consider acting,” youngji says out of the blue, “like a first love turned ex type of drama.”

jimin laughs. you could definitely imagine jimin acting. but maybe for the sake of your sanity, she shouldn’t act in any romance drama for now.

“have you guys met recently after the self-on kode episode? all your fans have been wondering and ah! did you see the article about y/nrina’s outing?”

you roughly recalled such an article. chaewon had showed it to you. it was a few weeks after the episode had aired and jimin wanted to go out. you had agreed, and unbeknownst to the two of you, there was a fan who took a photo of you at the restaurant.

“we went to a photobooth, and to the arcade. i think fearnots may know but jimin won a plushie there, the cute cat one that i posted on weverse. then we went to go eat.”

youngji pulls out a piece of paper, the photo printed on it.

“lee youngji, what is this prop?” jimin asks.

“newest edition to our show!” youngji says proudly, pointing at the two familiar figures, “can you explain this photo?” it was the trending photo of jimin and you fighting over the bill before jimin ended up handing her card to the waiter, happily smiling at you.

“jimin wanted to pay the bill and i disagreed, wanting to split half-half,” you explain, “we played rock paper scissors and jimin won, so she paid.”

jimin grins, looping her arm through yours, “but next time y/n is paying!”

“next time, will you guys invite me too?”

“sure!” you exclaim, “we can go eat pork belly. let’s shake on it!” you extend your hand, grasping youngji’s and shaking in a firm grip.

youngji pulls back, eyeing her hand as she says, “i’m never washing this hand again.”

“lee youngji—”

“ah, unnie, isn’t it time for you to go home?” youngji perks up. jimin shakes her head, “i wanna stay here longer.”

“unnie, don’t make me call your manager,” youngji turns to you for help.

you sigh, grabbing jimin’s humongous bag and trying to get her to stand up, “jimin, please get up.”

jimin resists for a few seconds. you smile shyly at her. she finally relents.

turning to the camera, you grin, “thank you for inviting us today, youngji! i had a lot of fun and so did jimin.”

“thank you for coming!” youngji smirks, “and thank you for dragging unnie home! let’s stay in contact y/n unnie!”

you wave goodbye at the crew and drag the frowning jimin out of the apartment. after successfully reaching the door, you put on your shoes. jimin’s arms wrap around your back as she sighs, “y/n…”

“hm? what is it?”

“i want a kiss.”

you smack her shoulder, “no, get off me.”

“please y/n! i didn’t even tease you that much this time! and if youngji can ask for your hand in marriage, you should allow your girlfriend to ask for a kiss!”

“on the cheek.”

“no!” jimin points at her lips, “here!”

glossy, red and plump. your eyes zero in, but you shake your head, “no, jimin. control yourself. we’re still outside youngji’s apartment.”

jimin huffs, sulking as she puts on her shoes.

“in the lift,” you say, “i’ll give you a kiss in the lift.”

your girlfriend perks up, tying her shoelaces with a speed unknown to mankind. you giggle at her eagerness.

“y/n, hurry up!” jimin yells, pulling your arm towards the lift lobby.

nothing has really changed. you still can’t find yourself denying yu jimin. even after she’s become your girlfriend.

[dilemmars]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ DIE WITH A SMILE. ”⠀⠀───⠀⠀arcane.

⠀⠀𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗌𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈.⠀( some mysteries are better left unresolved , 9.6k words. )⠀by dilemmars.

1.⠀⠀ PAIRING⠀⠀:⠀⠀violet x f!reader.

2.⠀⠀GENRES⠀⠀:⠀⠀based on the storyline and universe of arcane ( league of legends tv show )⠀; first love trope, started dating recently, stablished relationship, exes to lovers. basically you and vi were dating before the start of the story, then got separated.

3.⠀⠀WARNINGS⠀⠀:⠀⠀i will add the warnings that the tv show has: slight presence of sex and nudity, foul language, alcohol, drugs and tobacco. moderate scenes of fear and terror. high content of violence and gore. in this second chapter, there's going to be an explicit scene of bullying and violence towards reader, and mentions of prostitution. please do not read if you're uncomfortable with it.

4.⠀⠀AUTHOR 'S NOTE⠀⠀:⠀⠀second chapter out! i don't know why, but i found it kind of difficult to finish it because it took me a while to decide how i was going to approach the first part. and i also feel like it's super repetitive, so i hope you don't find it boring (an di'm sorry if you do! i'll try to write better) :(( then we have more arcane episode 2 content, and a bittersweet end. next chapter will be the end of the first act (and we all know how it goes), i would advice to prepare yourself for some angst. meanwhile, just enjoy 🤍

5.⠀⠀IMPORTANT⠀⠀:⠀⠀this is a work of fiction. i do not own arcane or any content produced or owned bychristian linke, alex yee, riot games or netflix. all rights belong to netflix and the writers of arcane. all plot events and character developments that are not related to the main character's story belong to the writers and creators of the series.

The whisper of the name of Vander, the hound of the underworld, and his fearsome reputation, had drifted through the gaunt streets of Zaun like a famished viper aching for nourishment, but it had also reverberated within the glassed walls of the brothel in which you had grown up. You had first heard it from your mother's lips, like the caress of a feather brushing your skin, when you were too young to remember what had been of the city before him. In your blurred memories, only a chaos of violence and children's games, and then just peace. Like so many secrets huddled under the beds and behind the wardrobes of The Gilded Lily, it was a mystery how Vander had managed to keep that invisible line between the two worlds intact for so long. The only important thing, however, was that it worked.

At the age of twelve, you had come to think that he could be your father. Like many children of prostitutes, you had never met yours. Like many unwanted results of endless nights of work, you hadn't been much more than a mouth to feed that couldn't monetise your stay at the brothel. At least, until you got older. You had spent your days wandering the city in search of mechanisms to fix, wanting to spend as little time as possible under the brothel roof, knowing that your presence was not welcome. Profiting from the rare tastes of the men and women who frequented the many decorated rooms downstairs —and the even wilder fantasies they paid for in the rooms upstairs— your mother had decided to keep you when she learned of the unexpected pregnancy, against the madam's insistent advice and the usual procedure on such occasions. 

During your childhood you had heard too many names whispered in the perpetual night of Zaun, always hidden in the poorly lit corridors of the place, but Vander's had never been one of the feigned moans that used to echo in your head even when you covered your ears. Only once, while your mother was getting ready for one of The Gilded Lily's most important clients, your nimble hands braiding and winding strands of her hair, had she muttered those six letters, in a hurried ‘If you ever find yourself in danger, call on Vander’. She had always become wary, anxiety creeping like a terrifying shiver up her spine, when you had to leave the building without a place to shelter. And on those occasions, after forcing herself to ask you not to return until after the early hours of the morning, you would lose yourself in the alleys of Zaun.

You still remembered that night, when her lips had left a quick kiss on your forehead, a carmine shadow that had remained on your skin until she had smudged it with her thumb, and then you had disappeared from her room, carrying that unknown name in your heart like a secret. It had been no accident that your mother had confided those words to you after seeing you come home with more than one bruise on your face, some nights even more, because she knew he could help you. And her instinct had not failed, because you had remembered his name precisely until you had needed to pronounce it.

Life in the brothel hadn't been so bad once you had familiarised to the overpowering scent of all the perfumes, the chaos of the attic rooms —with clothes of all kinds scattered on the beds, make-up products everywhere— and the unclassifiable noises behind closed doors that became a background melody once you got used to them. Still, and despite the fact that all the women and men who worked there had found it hard to consider you as one of their own, sometimes even treating you more like a pet than a child, you valued your independence too much to waste time getting annoyed looks for being in the way. You had often slipped into the alleyways adjoining the big building, after looking for the moment when the Madam locked herself in her office, and you had walked the dirty streets of the undercity with your head down under your hood.

That had been how you had discovered the tattered shop of the gentle Benzo, the owner of a cave full of treasures, who had grown fond of you. He had given you your first screwdriver, and taught you how to build any mechanism from scratch. He always kept useless pieces of machinery in a box with your name on it, ready for you to pick them up as soon as you could. At first it had been in exchange for you looking after the little boy who had been left outside his door years ago, who was only slightly younger than you, but it had ended up becoming a problem, even if he hadn't been aware of it at the time.

In Zaun people didn't need a reason to sin. It was as easy as breathing the foul oxygen that clung to your skin and poisoned you from the inside, urging you to steal, to fight for money, to kill if you had to. The need made you unpredictable, desperate. And that culture of poverty, applied to children, was lethal to those with fewer possibilities. Applied to you, well, let's just say it had meant a big target painted on your forehead that screamed you were too easy a prey for the most despicable ones.

It had not been the first time you had been attacked thinking you could have something of value in your pockets. You had heard the comments of adults passing by, whispering about the blood that ran through your veins, speculating about the amount of money you would have under your name just because you lived in The Gilded Lily. They had assumed you were the brothel's heiress, always messing around in the city streets with no sense of direction, ignoring the consequences, and you had dressed up in the mask they had woven for you, lifting your chin proudly as you listened to them, wanting to believe that fantasy. Until the first punch had come. Merciless, silent, followed by a low laugh and a threat. You had curled up as overly bold hands roamed your body in search of diamonds, when you could only offer nuts and bolts.

But they had grown even bolder, taking everything you had on you no matter how little it was worth, leaving you with less and less material and more than bruises.

That night they had simply gone overboard, for the fun of it.

You had tried to stifle a chuckle at almost bumping into a customer, too busy making a funny face at Ekko as a goodbye, while sneaking out of the shop door. No sooner had you set foot in the street, the cold air outside invading your lungs almost painfully, than you had received the habitual punch. Swift and heavy against your windpipe, knocking the breath out of you, bending your body forward. One of your attackers had laughed to your right when the bag you had been holding had fallen to the floor, spilling screws and metal pieces onto the cobbled floor, and hadn't even bothered to pick them up. They had finally decided to stop pretending that mugging you was not their goal. 

You had held your hands to your chest, your eyes following a screw rolling a few centimetres, before a second punch landed, straight in your face. A twinge of pain had coursed through you as you felt their fist hit a wound on your cheekbone that hadn't quite healed, and you had frowned, stumbling back. The third, aimed at your jaw, had been the one that had knocked you to the ground.

You had collapsed, gasping for air, curling into yourself on the cold floor, dazed. Your body had pulsed, your heart pounding, and you could only think that if you stayed still long enough, they would leave you alone. With your back pressed against the wall of Benzo's building, your ragged breaths had hit your forearms with every inhale, your arms protecting your face. But far from hearing their laughter fade down the alley, the silence had granted you a moment's peace before you were kicked in the pit of your stomach, a breathy and quiet pant spilling from between your lips.

You had drawn your knees even tighter to your chest, sobbing, and tensed your muscles, fighting against the weakening pain. You hadn't been able to tell if you were crying, thick tears sliding down your face, or if it was blood, but after a few seconds you hadn't cared. You had wanted it to be over as soon as possible, even if it meant being knocked unconscious. You'd had no idea how many there were, their voices, distorted by your fear and their amusement, shimmering in a mocking tone. You had closed your eyes as you had felt another kick to your ribs, and had cowered against the wall, wishing you were dead.

But then you had remembered your mother's words. Soft and crystalline in your memory, just as fearful as your voice when they gushed from your chest like salt water desperate to leave your lungs after a shipwreck, ‘I know Vander!’

The hand of one of them had paused against your shoulder at the broken sound, and you had frowned, praying that his name was threat enough to make them go away.

‘Do you?’ they had asked you, the poorly disguised fear in their voice feeling like a breath of fresh air.

‘Yes!’ you had replied, glancing out from behind your arms, breathing heavily. ‘And he's going to go after you if you don't stop!’

You hadn't let doubt creep into your gaze, even though you knew you hadn't offered a very confident view of yourself, cornered by three boys older than you in the middle of the street. The one who had prepared to unleash another kick had taken a step back, clenching his hands into tight fists, as if afraid of the consequences. But before you could even begin to get up, ready to run away, the one who had positioned himself on the opposite wall had slowly approached you, a crooked smile painting his face.

‘Do you actually believe her?’ he had muttered, crouching down in front of you, his venomous breath slipping fear into your bones, grabbing your hair so he could pull you  face to face with him. 

‘Why would Vander waste his time with someone like you?’ he had uttered, his eyes flashing with rage. You had dropped your gaze, trying to look away from him, wondering if you were paying for a crime someone else had committed, if the hatred in his eyes was really directed at you, who hadn't done anything, or if you were just the wrong person at the worst time. 

‘I,’ you had stuttered, and the curve in his lips had widened, ’I'm not...’

‘Do you genuinely think he would come to save you?’ he had insisted, tightening his grip on your hair, forcing you to look at him, and you had closed your eyes angrily, the emptiness in your chest cracking at his words, seeping doubt into your heart. ‘I don't think so.’

You had held your breath, expecting to receive a final strike, for the three of them to retaliate against you, but his crouching body had tensed over yours as the shop door had burst open, his blonde hair caressing his neck. Your chest had deflated, knowing that a stranger would not prevent the attack from getting worse, and you had simply waited for him to leave.

‘Well, I do,’ the man had murmured, and you had turned your head to look at him, surprised that he had intervened. The light from Benzo's had spilled onto the cobblestone floor above his large figure, his shadow lengthening over when he had stepped forward. ‘Leave the girl alone, Deck.’

The breath had caught in your throat, shooting a flash of pain into your ribs. No one had ever stood up for you. You had narrowed your eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of the man's face, but had only been able to hear the disbelieving snort of the boy in front of you as he addressed the stranger.

‘Do you really know her, Vander?’

You had then opened your eyes wide, Deck's annoyance a reflection of the surprise in your gaze, but you had remained silent. Whatever happened would be your fault, simply for tempting fate in such a way.

‘Does it really matter?’ he had replied, all darkness and gravelly voice, and you had seen him pull a match from his pocket, lighting it with a quick flick against the wall, the fire illuminating his rugged features. He had rested the pipe between his lips as Deck decided what decision to make, and you had heard him let out a soft hum as the blond had raised his hand in a quick gesture, releasing you to the floor.

You had leaned your head against the wall, protecting yourself, as the boy had hovered over you to get up. You had expected one last punch, a warning for the next time he found you and Vander wasn't around. But he had done nothing, walking away with his friends in the shadows of the streets. Then you had clutched your hands to your chest, letting a faint whimper slide down your throat, sobbing, and you had rested a hand on the cold stones of the ground to try to get up.

But then the pain had shot up through your abdomen like an electrified circuit, your legs failing under your own weight, and you had collapsed to the ground. You had thought it was not worth staying, not when the consequences of daring to involve Vander could be worse than what you had already received, but he had stood beside you, his gaze lost in the distance, waiting for them to be gone for good.

‘Thank you,’ you had murmured, taking a breath of air. Perhaps sweet words would soften him in case he decided to punish you in some way for mentioning his name.

The whisper of your voice had seemed to bring him back to reality, his body turning towards you, and he had made the attempt to move closer, stopping short when he saw the way your body was pressed against the wall behind you, completely tense. He had withdrawn his pipe from his mouth, the smoke spiralling upwards, and frowned. If you hadn't been so busy running away, you would have been able to make out the glint of insecurity in his gaze.

‘Hey, little one,’ he had uttered, advancing towards you in short, painfully slow steps, as if confronting a wounded animal, ’I'm not going to hurt you.’

You had looked up, your cheeks broken in tears, your shoulders shaking, and you had seen the way his eyebrows had risen in a convex curve, his lips pulling into a coy smile that had been intended to soothe you. And then you'd felt his hand on your arm, his palm sliding its rough calluses against your skin, and you'd frozen, pausing for a moment before remembering that it was Vander. Vander. If your mother trusted him —and she trusted very few people— you could afford to put your faith in him until he proved to you that you could trust him too.

‘You don't have to worry,’ you had told him, huddling against the cool surface of the wall, trying to muster a smile that would keep him from asking too many questions.

‘You sound like it's not the first time this happens,’ he had observed, crouching down in front of you, pushing your long hair away from in front of your face so that he could assess your injuries.

The absence of a reply had been your response, and answer enough to his assumptions. Of course it had happened before, hence why they felt so comfortable attacking you in such a public place. It had happened before, to a lesser extent. Before, in dark alleys. Before, maybe starting with a slap. And with each time you had offered no resistance the harassment had continued, more times, more pressure, more pain.

‘Come here,’ he had sighed, leaving the pipe between his lips and sliding his hand down your back, under your knees, to take you in his arms. You had let him lift you up, your hair cascading, and sighed against his chest, resting your cheek with your eyes closed. At least you would have enjoyed a quiet moment before you had to find a place to spend the night, the brothel doors closed to you until your mother finished with all the customers who came in asking for her.

You had been forbidden to disturb her, because if the Madam lost money, no matter how young you were, it would be you who would have to take her place to compensate for the absence of income.

But then you'd realised that Vander had been walking back towards Benzo's shop, and you'd frowned at the dull light of the lamps left on over the counter. You'd felt his flexed arms straining to keep you from falling as you'd started to squirm, ignoring the phantom fists that had pounded all over your body, ‘Easy, easy, kid.’

‘Vander?’ you'd heard Benzo, appearing behind the front desk with a grease-filled cloth in his hands, ‘I thought you'd already left. Who...?’

‘Deck and a couple of boys were harassing this little girl,’ Vander had explained, leaving you sitting on the stained surface of the counter, his hands gentle but firm on your shoulders to keep you from running away, and you'd winced when you'd heard Benzo mutter your name in surprise.

And then Vander had repeated it, looking at you, and you'd felt too vulnerable.

‘’M not little,' you'd muttered, deflating, crossing your arms over your chest with a stubborn snort, “and I'm fine.”

‘You're certainly not okay,’ Vander had replied, and you'd known his heart had decided to protect you against all odds in the way he'd uttered it, as if rage was consuming him. ‘And it's not the first time this has happened.’

‘Does your mother know about this?’ Benzo had asked you, pulling out a clean rag from under the counter, grabbing one of his bottles of alcohol. You had slid your gaze around the shop instead of answering, knowing that Ekko had to be somewhere, eavesdropping. You hadn't wanted him to see you like this.

‘What do you know about her?’ Vander had asked, setting the pipe down next to the bottle before taking the cloth in his hands and wetting it, making an effort to remain calm as he ran the fabric over your bruised skin, the cool air of his gentle breaths soothing the stinging of the wound slightly.

‘She's Raven's daughter,’ the shop owner had replied, and you had shuddered under the weight of his words.

‘Raven,’ Vander had repeated, and you had raised your eyes at the tone of his voice, far from the lust that used to accompany your mother's name every time someone said it. It held a past, just as it had done with Benzo when you had revealed to him who you were.

‘She was the one who told me to call for you if I needed help,’ you had hastened to add, hoping it was the right thing to say.

Vander's gaze had softened as he listened to you, nodding absently, ‘Of course she told you.’

You'd watched him relax his shoulders, his gaze fogged with memories, as he'd bent down to continue cleaning the cuts on your face, his hand resting on your cheek, his rag a caress on your skin, and you caught every movement, wishing you could replicate the care with which he'd treated you if you ever needed to treat someone's wounds. Then he had instructed you to pull your shirt up a little so he could assess the bruises on your ribs, without touching you at any point, and he had remained respectful even as he moved to place a bandage over the injury to your knee, trying not to tear the starred fishnet stockings you had put on that morning.

‘Your mom's right, you know?’ he had announced, once he had finished, his thumb undoing the dry trails your tears had left on your cheeks. ‘If you're ever in danger, you can come to me.’

His eyes had met yours in the grim glow of the room, the shadows on his face heavy on his skin, and you had flashed a mischievous smile, lighting up your dry lips. The whisper of Vander's name, the hound of the underworld, had roamed the filthy streets of your city like a hungry predator, and even reverberated between the sinful mouths of the prostitutes you had grown up with, but it had never sounded better than when it had left your lips that night. Loud, broken, crying out for help. Reflecting a desperation you felt in every bone, knowing it could save you from a doomed fate.

And no one had pronounced yours better than he had, stopping at every letter, giving it the attention you had never received. He had fixed something deeply flawed in you, proving that you weren't alone in that cursed city. After that night, your mother had never feared for you again. Vander had sworn to protect you, inviting you to the back of his bar when his kids weren't home to teach you how to defend yourself. And the next time someone had threatened to try to assault you, you'd been the first to punch.

It had not been hard, because Vander was a great fighter. And his adopted children had helped him develop the patience necessary to be a good teacher. Throughout your time with him, the whispers of his name had become quieter, dimming his legendary reputation and turning him more cautious. Sevika had told you it had been the riots he had led, the suffering he had seen in the eyes of his children for the consequences he had provoked. Perhaps you did not remember what the city had been before him, but the enforcers' apprehension towards the inhabitants of Zaun was proof enough that the fine line that had once existed between Piltover and the underground had begun to dissipate.

Especially after the unsuccessful incursion that Vi and the rest had pulled off the day before.

You had felt guilty, at first, worry lurking in the shadows as soon as they had failed to show up at the appointed time. And the emptiness in your chest had grown by the minute, uncertainty eating you alive, as you tried to keep your hands busy to avoid conjuring up dire possibilities. Then you had been flooded with relief, seeing them appear, all four seemingly well. And after the tense conversation with Vander, before Vi distracted you with her kisses, you had felt confused, a swirl of uneasiness growing inside you.

Even that morning, when you woke up, you were still restless. You had awakened to the soothing weight of Vi's sleeping body draped over yours, Powder finishing one of her projects in absolute silence in the bed next beside you. It had to be late, though it was hard to tell with the permanent ashen sky over the city, but the day before they had returned so full of adrenaline that they hadn't realised how tired they were until they had collapsed onto their mattresses. It was only natural, after such an intense day, that you had woken up at lunchtime.

You had carefully slipped out from under the covers, leaning on the edge of the bed to do a little stretching for your ankle. You'd been doing it for almost three weeks, but that morning was the first time that rolling your foot backwards hadn't made it stutter in pain, and your heart leapt in your chest at the realisation. It probably had something to do with the fact that you'd spent most of the day sitting, not really moving much, though you hated having to agree with Vander on that one.

Nevertheless, when Vi had proposed spending the afternoon in the abandoned basement you had turned into your meeting place, a couple of streets away from The Last Drop, you couldn't help but ask to join them. And Vi couldn't help but agree, giving in to your pout. With the cane Vander had made for you under one arm, and Claggor providing support under the other, you had walked steadily over the cobblestone streets of the undercity, making your way into the large playroom.

Vi had gone straight to her boxing ground, her body restless with pent-up energy and the need to always be ready to defend you all, and the rest of you had scattered around the room, looking for something to entertain yourselves with. You had let Claggor help you practise fencing footwork, slowly and surely, so as not to lose practice while you were injured. At least until you realised that Powder had taken refuge among the cables and mechanisms of the firing field, and then you hopped up on the counter to make sure you didn't miss anything.

Watching Powder shoot was always a delight, especially after a cocky Mylo didn't hit a single one, and you loved to referee. You had considered shooting as a valid method of defence when your first few weeks of boxing training had left your knuckles raw and too slow to heal, so you weren't bad at it. And although you had never stopped boxing —your name was written next to Vi's on the leaderboard— you had eventually developed a taste for sword fighting. Wooden or bronze swords, of course, because no one really trusted a sixteen-year-old girl with a weapon.

Just as the gun you held in your hands, checking that no one had tampered with its mechanism, had blank ammunition, fun enough to practice with but completely harmless. Thanks to Powder's colourful dyes, the only problem was how long it took for the paint stain to come out if you were shot.

‘Remind me why we bother with this dump,’ uttered Mylo, checking the gun as soon as you handed it back to him while curving your lips into an enigmatic smile, knowing that he was wary of your nimble hands.

‘Vander said to lay low,’ Vi replied, and you looked her way at the sound of her voice, swinging your legs from the table that separated the shooting field from the rest of the room. She was at the other end, in front of the boxing machine you had helped her fix a few years ago, and she paused her punches for a moment to respond, wiping the sweat from her brow with the outside of her forearm. ‘Enforcers never come down here, so this is as good a place as any.’

You nodded, forming a gesture of concern, but glanced behind the table to check on Powder. Her blue hair was moving to the rhythm of a tune that played only in her head, giving the finishing touches to the machinery that made the dummies on the shooting field move on simple rails, all of them painted menacingly and fluorescently by her, and you didn't bother to stifle a smile as you realised how quickly she was learning all the tricks you were teaching her.

‘Oh, what's the matter, Mylo?’ you heard Claggor say behind you. ‘You worried Powder's gonna beat you again?’

You glanced quickly towards him, wanting to know his answer, a chuckle slipping quietly from your throat, and you widened your smile as you saw him frown, clearly feeling attacked, ‘Hey, if she didn't keep fixing these things, I wouldn't keep missing.’

‘Suure,’ you muttered, scrunching up your nose playfully, resting your hands on the table and leaning back slightly.

‘It's true!’ he tried to defend himself, pointing his threatening finger at you. But before you could answer him, ready to start one of your teasing wars, Powder leapt to his feet, the cables of the mechanism in her hands.

With a sharp gaze fixed on Mylo, a wolfish grin curving her lips, she connected the ends, the lights going out behind her back once the greenish substance that started the game ran along the connected wires. You raised your hand as soon as she slid past you to stand next to Mylo, and Powder high-fived you enthusiastically, letting out a small giggle as you said, ‘That's my girl!

You turned slightly, watching the different figures glow in the shadows, and narrowed your eyes, focusing on all the targets. You weren't sure if Mylo would be able to hit any of them, but it was going to be difficult. Powder had been fiddling with the setup system so she could increase the difficulty level because she was getting better and better at it. Sometimes she would come to you on the rooftop of The Last Drop, where you usually hung out with your girlfriend, to ask your advice when she reached a point where she didn't know how to proceed. And you would always hold her hand and tell her everything you knew.

You had no idea how fast the game was set that afternoon, but you knew you were going to have a good time. You pulled your legs up onto the counter, crossing them so you could massage your ankle absentmindedly, and you didn't see Mylo getting ready to shoot. The first sound caught you by surprise, startling you, and you saw the pink ball of ammunition pass by the target without even brushing it. 

‘You guys know I wouldn't take you on a job you couldn't handle, right?’ mumbled Vi, and suddenly all your attention was focused on her, who had finished her boxing session and was taking off her gloves in an exasperated gesture.

‘Are you kidding?’ replied Mylo, his eyes riveted on the fluorescent dolls, and you didn't get to witness him continuing to shoot relentlessly, though you did hear him. ‘Maybe just don't take Powder next time.’

You couldn't even roll your eyes at his words, the satisfied hum of Claggor letting you know that, as you'd hoped, Mylo hadn't hit a single one. You stared at Vi, at the way her chest rose and fell after hitting the hard cushions of the boxing machine for so long, the perspiration covering the edges of her shirt, the unsure gleam in her eyes.

You heard Powder take Mylo's position in front of the firing area, you felt the warmth of her body next to yours as she prepared to shoot, and you heard every breathy sound she let escape between her lips before each bullet, but you didn't need to look at her. She wasn't going to miss. She never did. Mylo provided her with enough motivation not to.

What worried you was that the night before Vi hadn't wanted to tell you how she really felt. She never kept anything from you —you were both open books to each other. But you knew that the conversation she'd had with her father had awakened something in her. Something dormant, of course, because Vi had always felt that fire inside her when it came to protecting her people, but something you couldn't quite put your finger on. And that, added to the certain consequences the explosion had been caused in Piltover, kept you anxious about what the future would bring.

You rested a hand on Powder's shoulder as soon as she finished, a proud smile tugging at your lips as she looked up at you with satisfaction shining in her eyes, and you planted a kiss on her forehead under Mylo's bitter gaze, who had to put up with Claggor's teasing remarks. And as soon as Powder ran to the slot machine leaning against the wall, you jumped down, ignoring the two boys to walk slowly towards your girlfriend.

You rested your arms on the banister that separated the area where the boxing machine was located from the rest of the room, smiling softly at her, and reached out a hand to slide it down her forearm. Her eyes turned gentle under your attention, intertwining her fingers with yours, and you fixed your gaze on the bandages around her wrists and knuckles, trying to fix those spots where they had come loose with your other hand. Vi crouched down beside you to make your job easier, and sighed heavily.

‘We'll talk, right?’ you asked, your tone calm and collected. You weren't accusing her, you simply wanted to know that everything was okay.

But her reply was drowned out by the sound of shattering glass, your eyes widening, and you turned hurriedly as the glass that had held up for so many years shattered into pieces, a man's body slamming through it. He ended up unconscious a few steps away from you, while a group of Enforcers glared at you, analysing you with disdain, from the street. You all stood for a few seconds in complete silence, paralysed, until you heard the low, menacing voice of one of the topside cops announce, ‘Search them’.

It took you a heartbeat to cross the room, as fast as your ankle would allow, and position yourself in front of Powder with one hand resting on her arm. They advanced slowly, the glass cracking under their boots, while you raised your hands. They had nothing on your friends, it was impossible. They were simply making a routine round, asking easy questions, in case anyone knew anything about the explosion at Piltover. If you lied, calmly resisting their provocations, they would be gone in no time, and you could go home.

‘Go ahead, idiots,’ said Mylo, looking up and down at the Enforcer in front of him. ‘We got nothing.’

And then it all happened too fast. You didn't see Vi gesture to Claggor, but you knew it was she who had instructed him to pull the lever. The room was suddenly plunged into darkness, the fluorescent colours glowing from the shooting range dummies and the monkey doodle Powder had designed years ago and painted in the floor the only illumination, and Powder grabbed your hand to help you slide over the counter, both of you fleeing between the dummies.

You had no idea if the others were following you, to look back being too risky, just that you did your best to grind your teeth every time you stepped on your run and your ankle twitched to the side that hurt the most. Your breath caught in your throat when you felt a hand on your spine, and you stifled a scream, but Powder let go of your hand, sprinting towards the back door, and you let yourself be caught in his arms when you realised it was Claggor at your back.

Mylo was on the other side, running after Powder to get outside, and as you looked back you saw Vi close the door behind her and block it with your cane. You threw your arms around Claggor's shoulders to make yourself as small as possible, easying the task of running with you down the alley, and you all followed Vi, trusting that she would know which way to disappear. But then she stopped dead in her tracks, the suddenness of it causing you to fall to the ground, when she saw two Enforcers attacking a citizen. They stopped too, looking at you, and you felt Mylo's hands on your shoulders, helping you to your feet, as they ran to you. You saw the panic in Vi's eyes as you made eye contact with her.

You had screwed up. Big time.

The silence of the street was interrupted by your quickened breaths, but also by a loud whistling sound that drew your attention upwards. An old metal ladder creaked towards you as you heard Ekko mutter an ‘Over here!’ and you only had time to process his presence when Vi grabbed your hips and propelled you upwards. You clung on as best you could, scrambling upwards, grabbing Ekko's hand to pull yourself onto the wooden bridge that spanned between two houses, and stood beside him to help pull the rest up.

Mylo grabbed your arm, jumping to your side and pulling Ekko by the shoulders to run away, Claggor following soon after. Your heart stopped when you saw one of the Enforcers trying to climb after Powder, and you grabbed Vi at full speed so the kid could get to safety.

You paused for a moment once Vi had broken the ladder, preventing them from following you, taking a deep breath in the great pipes that connected Zaun's poorer neighbourhoods, and you held on to the wall, limping, as Powder walked alongside his sister. They had been discovered. The Piltover police now knew that it was four children from the undercity who had allegedly caused the explosion, and they were not going to stop until they had them punished. You had to tell Vander, and that was perhaps what scared you the most.

If an adult had to know about it, things's were getting way too serious.

The Last Drop was usually packed on any given weeknight, the music playing muffled under the constant murmur of conversation, and Vander always behind the bar, serving beer to all his customers. That night there were many more people, but the walls of the bar wailed in the silence that permeated the atmosphere, broken only by the cold voice of Sevika, who seemed to be holding back her temper.

‘We should hit them back,’ she said, leaving a loud thump on the wooden table. ‘We've got the numbers to beat them.’

Before her words, many of the attendees at the impromptu meeting Vander had organised murmured their approval, ‘Yeah! Let's teach them what it means to mess with us!’

You, leaning in the shadows, always relegated to the sidelines with the rest of the kids, listened with your heart in your mouth, knowing that the tension in the air went far beyond the occasional dispute that Vander had to resolve. Youall had confessed everything that had happened as soon as you arrived at the place, Vander's eyes shadowed by what you said, and he had no choice but to announce it to the rest of the Lanes' inhabitants.

Now he was leaning against the counter, on the wrong side of it, and Benzo was standing next to him, folding his arms, as serious as the bar owner. He pulled a match from his pocket, as you had seen him do countless times since you had met him, and lit his pipe calmly, creating anticipation among those around him.

‘You sure that's what you want?’ he asked, the smoke spiralling through the air, knowing what answer he was going to get. ‘We crossed that bridge once before, and we all know how that ended.’

It had been a long time ago, when the streets had whispered his name in awe. Your mother had ended up telling you the story.

‘You're just protecting your kids,’ protested a man you didn't know, frowning. And it hurt you to hear it, because you knew it was partly true.

‘I'm protecting our people,’ he replied, quickly, stoking his pipe as if he meant to attack someone. ‘I'd do the same for any of you,’ he continued, looking around at the rest of those present. ‘We look out for each other. It's the way it's always been. This will blow over, we just need to stand together’.

‘The Vander I knew, the one who built the underground,’ Sevika interjected, anger trembling in her voice, ’would not be afraid to fight.’

Vander took two steps towards her, standing face to face, ‘Do I look afraid?’

‘No,’ she replied, calm but menacing, ‘you look weak.’

Without waiting for an answer, she whistled, the sound attracting the attention of her people, and turned around, her coat floating behind her, some of those beside her following her outside. You sighed, knowing that Sevika was the only one who could dare stand up to Vander, and crossed your arms, leaning against the back wall. The conversation would die once she was no longer willing to fuel it.

‘Why isn't he doing anything?’ muttered Claggor, looking almost apologetic.

‘We kicked the Enforcers‘ butts with just the four of us,’ Powder replied, angrily, her scowl making her look even more adorable than usual. ‘Imagine what the whole of the Lanes could do.’

‘Jeez, even Powder wants to fight,’ exclaimed Mylo, opening the door leading down into the hall.

‘So why aren't we?’ protested Vi, exasperated.

You remained silent, as did Ekko, leaning against your arm, and sighed again. Claggor followed Mylo once he went downstairs to lie on the couch. You put your arm around Ekko's shoulders, caressing his hair, and noticed how unusually quiet he had been. Vi also noticed, raising an eyebrow in his direction, ‘Spill it Ekko’.

‘Huh, oh, okay,’ he stammered, and it made you frown. You knew Ekko was an expert at finding out secrets, but often conversations between adults made little sense to you. It was rare that he had any information about Piltover at all. ‘Well, um, Vander's got a deal with the Enforcers.’

‘What deal?’ you asked, exchanging a glance with Vi.

But Ekko shrugged. 

You sighed a third time, drawing a smile from both of them, and ended up laughing too, covering your mouth with one hand. It was wrong to look so happy when something so serious had just happened just a few feet away, but it was also a way of dealing with it. Your heart was pounding as if you were on the edge of a cliff, on the verge of an event that could turn out to be catastrophic, but you just wanted a moment of peace. 

You pulled your pocket watch out of your waistcoat as Ekko walked past you to meet Powder downstairs, and checked the time. You knew that if no client showed up unannounced, your mother would have a free moment in a few minutes. You hadn't been in the brothel for almost three days, so it could be a good time to stop by and stay for a bit.

You looked at Vi, deciding what to do next.

‘I might sleep over at my Mom's tonight,’ you commented, pouting.

She nodded, taking your hands in hers, ‘We'll be fine.’

‘I know,’ you replied, moving closer to her and leaving a fleeting kiss on her lips. ‘They're always safe with you.’

She kissed you back in the shadows, burying her bandaged hand in your hair, and stifled an annoyed huff when she had to pull away from you. She leaned her forehead against yours, biting her lip, and then let you go, disappearing up the stairs. They could do with a rest, you knew. Better a quiet night, and face the problems the next day.

You walked through the streets of Zaun, hair hastily pulled back in a bun, but at a slow pace, when you left the bar. You tried to rotate your ankle every few steps, grimacing when it hurt but determined to make the effort to walk without limping. When you reached the entrance to The Gilded Lily you dodged some drunken clients, sneaking up the stairs until you reached your mother's room. You kept your ear to the door, listening for any sound that might indicate you couldn't stay there.

When only your mother's sweet voice sounded, humming a made-up melody, and you knew she was alone, you tapped the surface of the door twice before stepping inside. Your mother's gaze lit up as she recognised you, rising from her vanity chair to hug you, ‘Hi, baby!’

‘Hi, Mom,’ you smiled back, taking refuge in her arms.

‘Did you come to get those pieces you left behind last week?’ she asked, after kissing your cheek and sitting back down, taking the lipstick stick between her slender fingers.

‘What pieces?’ you asked, and frowned as you followed the direction she pointed as she continued to prepare herself, wiggling her fingers absently.

Your mother's wardrobe. Raven was one of the prostitutes who got the most clients —the one who made Madam win more money among her girls— and that had earned her some privileges at the brothel. In addition to being able to raise you, to allow you to grow up in her room and not have anyone complain when they had to take care of you, she was also allowed to have the only room with a built-in wardrobe in the building, apart from the owner's. When you were little, you used to hide there quite often. Since you couldn't fit anymore, you only kept your clothes and a big box with projects you were working on.

But you didn't remember leaving any behind the last time you spent the night there.

You opened the heavy doors, and it felt like getting another hug from your mother. All the clothes she had stuffed in there, with exotic silk kimonos, long linen dresses and velvety nightgowns, smelled like the cheap fruity cologne you had once gotten her on the black market in town, and then kept getting because she had loved it. You smiled when you saw the chaos of fabrics jumbled among all the shelves, and bent down to open the drawer where you kept your things. 

Inside was a jumble of metal, tools, multiple loose papers with drafts of diagrams and a complex mechanism wrapped in a rag. Your eyes widened in surprise when you remembered that you had indeed left the invention hidden there, and you pulled it out at full speed, sitting cross-legged on the floor and checking what you had left to do the last time. You didn't notice the way your mother was looking at you through the mirror, admiring the way you were working, so focused on the gears in your hands.

You didn't even notice the clock hand ticking, too focused on the artefact you had designed a few months ago, changing parts you thought you had misplaced, modifying data in the designs you had spread out on the floor. You became again the child you had once been, hiding in your mother's wardrobe with heavy headphones that isolated any noise from the outside, oblivious to reality. Since you had met Vander's children, you had kept most of your gadgets in the workshop they had let you keep in their house, but going back to work on the floor of your mother's room felt like coming home.

You remained in that state of abstraction until you felt your mother's lips pressed against your temple in a warm kiss.

‘Imma go downstairs, baby,’ she said, and you just nodded.

She was going to have a quiet night, then. Whenever Raven appeared downstairs it was always to relax and flirt with curious first or second-time visitors to The Gilded Lily, too shy to wander into one of the upstairs rooms. You were glad. As your mother got older she didn't lose beauty, let alone charm, but she got much more tired. She deserved more time to rest.

You remained working on the small portable radio until your back began to complain, and you had to get up to stretch a little. 

And then you heard it. A soft, stifled sound coming from the window. You frowned, leaving the device on the cloth it had been wrapped in, and walked across the room. Of the two panes of glazed glass that served as shutters, one could not be opened because you had nailed it against the frame years ago, so that you could place a made up air-purifier box on that side of the sill and allow your mother to get cleaner air from outside.

As you opened the other, however, and looked down, you caught a glimpse of your girlfriend's pink hair camouflaged under her hood, ready to throw another pebble to get your attention. You smiled at the sight of her, motioned for her to wait there, and crossed the carpet as quickly as you could. You paused for a moment as you reached the door, and retraced your steps to pick up the almost finished radio and tuck it into one of the pockets of your cargo trousers, but you headed back out into the hallway, descending the stairs of the brothel by sliding down the banister, as you had done so often when you were younger.

As soon as you stepped onto the street you walked the few metres between the entrance and the alley around the corner, and walked towards Vi with a smile tugging at your lips. She had been leaning against the wall, her hands in the pockets of her slacks, but she pulled them out to wrap them around your hips as soon as she had you close enough.

‘You couldn't wait until tomorrow to see me, couldn't you, pretty girl?’ you asked, grinning against her lips.

‘I wanted to see you before I went to sleep,’ she whispered, her gaze downcast, her fingers playing with your belt buckles.

‘Hey, did something happen?’ you asked, worry swirling in your chest, sliding your hands up to cup her cheeks, your thumbs caressing her freckled skin.

‘The enforcers came,’ she replied, her muffled voice sending shivers down your spine.

‘My God,’ your hands tightened against her face, and you frowned. ‘Are you all okay?’

‘Yeah, yeah, nothing bad happened,’ she said, trying to reassure you. ‘Vander managed to warn us in time for us to hide.’

But her explanation failed to calm you in the slightest. Vi looked pale, almost sickly, as if whatever had happened had scared her to death. You felt the nervous twitch of her fingers at the waistband of your trousers, fiddling with the fabric almost anxiously, and a void opened ravenously in your throat. You didn't like seeing her like that. It was unnatural, not being able to enjoy her jokes and her teasing remarks, that the gleam in her eyes didn't greet you when you looked at her, and that her stiff shoulders seemed to slump under the weight of a responsibility that wasn't hers.

‘Listen,’ you began, trying to make eye contact with her, ’we'll be alright, okay?’

‘I know, I promised,’ she replied, leaning against the touch of your palm.

‘I already know we'll be alright,’ you added, stubbornly. ‘What I mean is, it'll all pass. We'll go on with our lives as before, because the enforcers will get tired of looking around, and we'll hide great, yeah? I can promise you that.’

‘Oh, yeah?’

‘Uh-huh,’ you nodded, memorising every detail of her face. ‘I'll find a place to hide Powder, and I'll help her practise to make her little bombs work. I'll show her what I do to make my inventions work. And I'll tie Mylo to a chair so he doesn't screw up anything. I wouldn't worry so much about Claggor. And you can come to the roof of the Lily, and do some boxing with me. We'll steal food from Madam.’

‘Wow, you've got it all figured out, huh?’ she finally smiled, sighing.

‘You know I'll always want you to have the option of stepping back when it all gets too much,’ you whispered to her.

‘I know,’ he replied, leaning her forehead against yours. ‘I'm glad I have you. I'm glad Powder has you.’

‘Don't be silly, I'll never leave you’ you replied, shaking your head slightly, your eyes closed. ‘Besides, Powder has you, she doesn't really need me.’

‘Pow-Pow's my little sister,’ she explained, her breath brushing against your skin, ‘she needs the other girl in the group so she can have some time away from me. She adores you, I'm glad she has that.’

‘Well, I know for a fact she looks up to you a lot, so...’ you replied, sliding your head down to rest on her shoulder, remaining hugged against the brothel wall. ‘She still needs you. She will always need you.’

Silence swirled around you, and you felt a soft hum exhaled between Vi's lips.

‘Besides, I'm working on a radio that will allow us to spy on the enforcers,’ you announced, leaning in.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ you confirmed, pulling it out of your pocket. It was a small metal box, which fit in your hand. ‘Wait until I press the button and say something nice.’

You connected the two loose wires, and the radio started up with a soft buzz. You frowned as you tried to remember which was the button that recorded and which was the one that played back, and finally pressed the one you had painted blue. Both were buttons you had taken from your mother's old clothes, and Vi smiled as she realised. You nudged her arm to get her to start talking.

‘I love you, cupcake,’ she whispered, and you covered your mouth with your hand so she wouldn't see you blush. ‘You'll always be my girl.’

You stopped recording, shaking your head, but didn't say a word, pressing the second button. Vi's voice echoed between you, somewhat canned, repeating word for word what she had just said. When you looked up, Vi already had her eyes on you, delighted.

‘This is awesome, cupcake,’ she murmured, her voice watery.

‘Oh, don't be like that,’ you reproached, checking the device. ‘It still needs improvement.’

‘You're a genius,’ she attacked again, sliding her hands up and down your back.

You put the radio back in your pocket, embarrassed.

‘You could add it to the mechanical crow you have at home,’ she proposed, clinging to you, ‘so you could spy even more closely, and no one would notice.’’

You opened your eyes wide in amazement, and patted her on the shoulder, ‘That is genius!’

Her giggles echoed through the alley, and you swooned against her body, ‘I need to write that down as soon as possible,’ you said, dead serious, ‘I'll stop by The Last Drop tomorrow to see if it would be possible to implement the radio into the design I have done.

‘I love you, cupcake,’ she repeated, and you grabbed her by the the collar of her sleeveless hoodie, bringing your lips together in a kiss.

‘I love you too, pretty girl,’ you replied, pulling away from her. And then you added, a little louder, just to tease, ‘I love youu, Violet!’

You kissed her goodbye with another peck, resting your hand on the wall behind her head, and let her lips move over yours, hungrily, for a few more minutes. But when Vi moved her leg between yours, her mouth sliding down your neck, and your heart began to pound in your throat, you decided to stop once more.

‘You should go get some rest, Vi, baby,’ you whispered, your breath hitching.

‘I love you,’ she whispered again, and you melted against her, ’I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.’

‘I love you too, my love,’ you sighed, as she parted her lips from your skin, ’but it's getting late.’

You felt her hand slide down your abdomen, up to your chest, and you held your breath. But she simply pulled your pocket watch out of its pocket, glancing at the time. Her shoulders tensed again, leaving the watch in your hand, and she murmured a soft, ‘Yeah, it's pretty late.’

‘See you tomorrow,’ you whispered, taking a step back.

She made an affirmative noise, peeling away from the wall, and you turned to head back to the brothel. With your girlfriend's voice stored in your radio, you climbed the stairs, adrenaline coursing through your system, barely aware of the pain in your ankle, and dropped to the floor as soon as you reached your mother's room, picking up a blank sheet of paper to begin designing a new model of your robot.

It wasn't until a few minutes later that your heart began to race again, when Raven came in quietly, and you were startled by her stealth.

‘What did you go out for?’ she asked you, taking off her black lace jacket.

‘Oh, Vi came to see me,’ you replied, pausing your pencil over the paper. Your mother knew who she was and what relationship you had, you weren't worried about what she could say.

‘That's weird,’ she uttered, your heartbeat quickening in your mouth, ‘she usually never comes. I thought something bad had happened.’

And then your heart stopped for a moment. Something bad had happened. The enforcers had discovered them. But Vi's gaze had remained opaque the whole time she'd been with you, and though it had seemed to you that she was still frightened by what had happened, perhaps you'd misinterpreted it. You knew those grey eyes better than you knew yourself. She had been scared about what was going to happen.

‘Do you think she would do something foolish to protect her family?’ you asked your mother.

‘Oh, baby,’ she murmured, a drop of sadness spilling over her face, ’she'd do anything to make sure you're okay, just like you would for her.’

You closed your eyes for a moment, frowning, angry that you hadn't noticed sooner.

When you opened them, you stood up and walked out of The Gilded Lily, determined to find Vi.

⠀⠀𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍.⠀( send an ask or comment under the series to be part of it , just if you're going to interact with it ━reblogging with feedback. )⠀@im-just-a-simp-le-whore , @celestialzdiviner , @corpsebridenightamare , @louissst28 , @astr1dblogs , @notsolarry , @starlostastronaut , @yoonkinii , @padsfirewhisky

ㅤㅤ© dilemmars ★ do not copy, translate, repost or share this work as yours on other platforms ! consider leaving a comment or reblogging.

[peppertaemint]

Jikook & "Are You Sure?!" : The Beauty of Mundane

The much-maligned reality-TV format deserves most of the criticism and ire it provokes. Schlocky production values and pre-tense often lead to melodramatic fakery that people want to believe because they're bored. We've all succumbed to it; I've seen more than my fair share of Big Brother seasons. But the thing that reality can do, if it doesn't try too hard, is give us a window to life that sits between documentary and that unscripted faux-world, and I think Are You Sure?! makes a wonderful example.

The situations are both planned and imposed on this show, from Connecticut to Jeju to Sappparo. Jungkook and Jimin planned the trip along with producers and agreed to film it as content, a loathsome word if there ever was one. What we see is not genuine real-life, despite what Jimin states in Sapporo; it's a mediated view into the pair's life on camera together -- a life they seem to want to share together and with fans.

What makes AYS work so well is their naturalness on camera and together. I'm struck by how comfortable both facets of their lives seem after just over ten years of vlogging together under agency Big Hit.

We see how much they enjoy existing together, grappling with the highs and lows of the mundanity of travel. I say mundanity specifically because so much of travel is just that -- your life simply transported to a pretty view. It's still full of stomach aches and flus, good and bad food and wide-ranging moods. Seeing Jungkook patiently take care of Jimin, ensuring he took his medicine, and then creating a doltap, the traditional practice of rock stacking to ward off bad luck and bring in good energy, was a healthy glimpse into the everyday of their shared life.

The most telling part of the show is, rather ironically, the worst part -- the three-episode interlude with their unexpected guest in Jeju, Taehyung. Our duo made no bones about the fact that the guest invited himself to their trip -- their special time -- and took every possible opportunity to remind him of his status as unwanted guest.

The entire vibe of the show changed because of Taehyung's presence, and not just because JiKook were put out by the whole thing. His presence changed their dynamic toward one another as well, seemingly disrupting their status as a duo. It was as though there was a need to cater to the guest, to an extent, and to put aside their interest in one another to a marked degree. That in itself is incredibly telling for their relationship.

Luckily, the show bookended itself with JiKook solo trips, and it ended in Sapporo where the duo seemed to be most comfortable and in their element, embracing the romance and magic of the snow resort in Japan. This was a welcome contrast to the funny, fish-out-of-water vibe of NY and Connecticut.

What will stay with me is the joy in the mundanity that the two showed throughout the show, but especially when left alone. The fun of grocery shopping when you're with your person. The enjoyment of playing cards, cooking, or simply going to bed when you're with your person. It's easy to forget there is a team of people watching over them for the majority of the show, filming or simply observing. And I wonder if sometimes Jungkook and Jimin forget, too.

[theseveredspirit]

Hela was so BEAUTIFULLY done in today's Episode of "WHAT IF...?'

Marvel brang a new side of her that was so heartbreaking and endearing!

It comes to show that Odin is ALWAYS holding his own children back from their potential. Look how much they can be without HIM!

To see Hela grow, is so Poetic! Like this one of the most unexpected welcomings i've seen in a Marvel Project. 🥺

I don't think i've ever been so invested in a character who was so Bloodlusted and then for her to realize what she had actually wanted for herself through the Majestic Forms of Arts. She LITERALLY was brought to a New Light at what seemed to be the last of her Dying breath.

To top it off, the Original Actor, Cate Blancheet from Thor Ragnarok returned to Voice Her! She did a well-done effort to bring a different side of Hela! Couldn't have done it any other way with someone in place!

Just look at her genuine Smile as she has finally found herself!

Hela just became one of my Top Favorites in all of Marvel Characters! It was a short episode, but just the use of Culture and Finding Purpose through your Troubled Past did this one for me.

Hela, The Goddess of Life!

🥹🤍

[redcherrykook]

── ˙✧°📷 TORN PICTURES AND FROZEN LENSES 2

────୨ৎ────

College Photography Teacher!Jungkook x Student!Reader

27 year old, stupidly handsome asshole teacher Mr. Jeon has absolutely no human decency, he believes your victim complex is what keeps you from ever achieving anything, letting people use you as a bridge. When something unexpected happens, the ice starts to melt as a foreign word called "empathy" enters his egocentric lense. Maybe he will finally manage to teach you a lesson now, since you keep failing his class.

(Mini series)- Episode two!

Song recommendation: too sweet- hozier

Content: Cold, mean, distant, unprofessional Jungkook, hurt, stubborn reader, enemies to lovers, lowkey dramatic, accident happens, mutually beneficial relationship (emotionally), Jk learns a lot from her, Jk is mean but has a soft spot for reader (eventually), 6 year age gap, Reader is from a struggling background, Jk kind of rescues her, happy ending, angst at first, fluff, smut, comedy/crack, bickering, college setting, brief hospital setting

Warnings: swearing, name-calling,mentions of an accident involving a biker, mentions of hospital, mentions of injuries, really mean Jungkook, i promise he gets sweet, mentions of trauma and abuse (non detailed), mental health struggles (semi detailed), arguments

────୨ৎ────

"You´re early" he grumbles, surprised at the figure stood in the empty classroom. At 8;30 am, 15 minutes before class, it is only natural for the hall to be empty. So it was only you standing there, dressed neatly, seemingly looking put together.

But Jungkook knew better. He didn´t even have to linger his penetrating gaze on the face of yours long to notice the exhaustion painted on your features.

As always, he turns a blind eye.

Everyone gets tired sometimes.

You nod, "I know, kind of did that on purpose" Standing there while opening your bag, you begin setting your books on the table. A rose colored journal slips out, landing perfectly on top of the books needed for his class. You had woken up early today, determined to not come late for a sixth time. Determined to try and keep up that yes, it was just an accident. Nothing more, no conspiracies.

The wind whispers from the open window, slipping in the fresh morning air, waving your hair with it in a swift but gentle swish.

nonetheless, he notices,

"Close the window, it is getting cold" he sits down at his desk, folding down the sleeves of his grey button down that so delicately revealed his strong form.

So you comply, shutting the air outside of the class.

"Thank you" the sound of two very simple, very common words catch you off guard. With a lean on the window behind you, your gaze shifts to the tall teacher propped up on his desk. Your mouth opens slightly to formulate a response but, cannot seem to gather what to say. Although in every other situation, it´s simple. You´re welcome.

"Calm down, I just thanked you. My god if you´re gonna react like this to every time i comply to that stupid deal of ours I´m gonna be sick" his arms cross in front of his chest, annoyed. Of course.

"I won´t, don´t flatter yourself" you shake your head slightly, moving to sit down at your desk. Certainly the conversation had been closed now. At this point, you did not expect him to engage in your bickering, soon the room would be filled with students.

However, you find out you were wrong,

"How are the injuries. Never asked about that" he´s not even looking at you when muttering a question you weren´t even sure was genuine. His eyes examining the laptop in front of him, much more engaged in the importance of his own tasks.

But Jungkook was not one to speak for filling a room simply to escape silence.

The urge to make fun of him for showing concern is lingering at the tip of your tongue, nevertheless, you bite down.

"Fine. Medium grade contusion on my right hip and lots of nasty bruises" you allow your eyes to wander along his features, letting yourself smile just a bit, hoping he would grand you a look.

"Good. Heal up quickly, you really aren´t in dire need for more absences after all"

His eyes leave the screen momentarily, glancing at you from behind his large squared glasses.

"Trying to. Thanks" your eyes meet for the split of a second before he returns to his priorities.

Just as the next student walks in.

"Good morning mr Jeon" he greets, receiving a nod from Jungkook in return.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"When is this gonna end", you mumble to yourself as you turn yet another page of given material. Yawning and stretching your arms up, you glance at the small numbers on the bottom right of your laptop that has been opened in front of you for what must have been 6 hours now.

9:45 pm already?

The schools library is most quiet at this time. The deafening, still comforting silence only breaks when the crashing of ice inside your drink or hushed words from your monologues make their way into the large study.

Most likely because the college library is already closed and you weren´t supposed to be here either. It´s not like you have ever been caught or are disturbing someone. Even the cleaning staff have become familiar with the long hours you spend sitting put at one of many desks inside the library. Admirable, they call it. In reality, this is as usual as it can get for you.

Only this time, things are different. You will be here the entire night, not just because you forgot how quickly time passes and suddenly the small rays of the morning sun kiss your hands,

It is out of necessity. For possibly the following nights as well. Until you find a new shelter that is willing to take in a runaway college student.

For a couple seconds you wonder how long it will take to find a one bedroom apartment you can afford with the below minimum wage tutoring job of yours. Working part time is impossible since ambitious, home having first year you decided to pack every possible class you could take right in your schedule.

One of the many things you regret.

A set of loud footsteps sound closer than the cleaning personal has ever been, ripping you right out the dream of a small, well decorated apartment. Mentally you groan, wondering if the day you had to be caught, really needed to be the day you would otherwise have to sleep on a park bench.

When the darkly colored wooden doors open to reveal who is roaming the hallways at a time you should be getting ready for bed, you simply can not believe your luck.

"Y/n?" the stern voice can never be mistaken for someone else, his eyes widening as he steps inside to approach your desk.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" obviously rhetorical he asks, swiftly pulling out the chair to your left and sitting down on it casually.

"I need to study. I´m not doing something wrong i swear, even the staff is fine with it, I just have so much work to do" in an attempt to rescue your chance at a warm sleep, you hurriedly let out every explanations that come to mind.

His eyes look down to your face when he slightly tilts his head back, his hand is now carefully placed on the table, tapping it rhythmically with his long and artful fingers.

I´m doomed.

"Interesting. Try doing that work when the library isn´t closed. Get up, you´re breaking the rules" the same hand that was tapping away motions upward to signal you; no really, get the fuck up.

Like the troublemaker you are, you stay put on your chair

"I can´t, I gotta get this done"

A familiar scoff escapes his lips "You cant be serious. I wasn´t asking. I said get up idiot"

"Jungkook please I really can´t" you plea with him pathetically. The way you must sound or look to him right now is far from your concern, what matters is the need to convince him.

His frustration is painted on his face so visibly you would be able to spot it from a mile away. Instead of you, he gets up, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Your eyebrows meet to express your utter confusion,

"What are you doing"

Jungkook´s eyes move over to yours, deadpanned as if you asked him the color of the sky, he looks at you.

"Calling the cops obviously. You´re Trespassing"

Your head shakes quickly as you repeat the words no,no,no,no,no while standing up and trying to get him to stop dialing. He takes a step back and groans, putting his phone back in his pocket.

"Finally, leave now. I´ll come with you to make sure you actually leave and don´t try break in again"

"You're so annoying, model citizen over here"

"Thanks. You too" he grants you a fake smile before rolling his eyes so far back he would sure be able to see his brain.

You sigh, aware that any protest is useless or you might end up sleeping at the police station.

Gathering your things and already listing the possible parks and convenience stores you would need to pass time, sleep and study at in your head. Accepting the upcoming hardship you remember his words

Cruel world

A breathy laugh escapes your mouth at the memory.

"I can´t believe you were about to call the damn police on me" you turn to him while walking behind him and out the university. It´s pitch dark outside and you can barely make out any street signs.

"Well i believe in following the law. What way do you need to go?" his movements stop when he asked you that, waiting for a reply so he could make sure you were walking off in the right direction.

But, he was met with silence. You had no idea where to go and the freezing air combined with scarily dark surroundings had just made you register your situation. Where were you going to go?

Annoyed at the non response, he turns to look at you, expecting a pissed off stare or a blank look. He did not await you to look down with a frown of worry. Your head cocks slightly to the side, muttering "I don´t know yet"

Obviously, he doesn´t understand your reply. What could you possibly mean when saying you didn´t know where you lived.

That is until he remembered you living in a shelter.

She must be new there and had forgotten the address, careless as always.

"The hell am I supposed to get from that? Forgot your own goddamn address?" his hand rubs along his forehead, the tension between the both of you is as thick as the air around. Contradictory from his actions, his voice quiets down just a bit.

You decide to stay silent once more, debating if it would be worth telling him what is really going on. After the hospital situation you should be, you should be honest and try to let the deal actually work. Truth be told, the fear of being let down and belittled is much stronger at the moment.

Before you can open up your mouth to whip up a shitty excuse, he speaks again.

"Y/n, is there somewhere you can go?"

Jungkook could swear his heart drops to his stomach when he lets out these words, awaiting your reply patiently.

The question suffocates you, caught red handed you shake your head no, looking up to meet his concerned eyes. It was no use lying to him, he would be checking the library each and everyday, that would mean that you really had to spend multiple nights outside.

He lets out a sigh, placing both his hands on his hips.

"Why the fuck didn´t you tell me?"

"Seriously? I thought you were not gonna believe me and end up actually calling the cops, no thank you" your voice sounding almost unfamiliar after not speaking for a while.

"Sound like me can't even lie. Let's get back inside then" Jungkook says without waiting for your opinion, simply strutting back into the library. You can´t help but grin slightly at his abrubt nature. He goes back to sitting down at the very desk you were forced to leave 25 minutes ago.

"You´re gonna let me stay here?" the hopeful question makes his head shoot up from looking at the floor as he chuckles.

"No you smartass, that´s still illegal, and I´m still a law-abiding citizen. I´ll call around shelters and hotels with you, i guess"

Thanking whatever power rules this world at the tiniest amount of help you can get from Jungkook, you smile,

Meanwhile he is internally cussing himself out for being nice too quickly

"Thank you, seriously, didn´t think you would actually try and hold up your word"

"Didn´t you say you would not have this embarrassing reaction every time? Shut up before I change my mind" his eyes roll back to signal that he meant every word he said. Yours do too, to signal him that he is still an asshole.

His phone as well as yours end up getting taken out, spending the first fifteen minutes calling help centers and looking for cheap hotels

Unsuccessful at attempting to find an opening, you tell him that was expected since you were on basically every single waiting list you could register to.

"So help centers and shelters are off the list. Then let´s find you a decent hotel or something" he yawns, the inevitable need for sleep reaching him as the night deepens. You feel sorry for bounding him into your own personal mess, although it isn´t really your fault. He´s the one so addiment on not letting you stay at the library.

"Absolutely not. I really cannot afford that, I don´t even know for how long I would have to stay there, it´s too uncertain" your head meets the palm of your hand, closing your eyes while sighing at this stupidly vulnerable situation.

It must be past 11 pm already.

"I´ll lend you some money, just pay be back eventually"

"Fuck no" you laugh "That might take me years, and I´m far from comfortable with owing money"

Jungkook knows he can´t force you to, still provocatively he asks,

"What are your options then ?"

You open your mouth in disbelief, the obvious option being the room you are having the conversation in, "Just let me stay at the goddamn library, it´s safe and I don´t need to pay"

"It´s against the law and it is for more than one night" he remains sternly on his arguments

"Who gives a fuck about the law , will you seriously do anything to make me sleep on the streets Jungkook"

Your voice turns into somewhat of a yell, spitting out the frustration you feel towards this childish behaviour. Both of you are tired out of this hassle and want nothing more than to get some rest and peace of mind.

His eyes stay glaring, while his voice turns bitter, "You´re so stubborn, all that I´ve been trying to do is help you not sleep on a fucking bench you idiot. My god get that through the thick skull of yours. You think I´m gonna sleep well knowing one of my students, injured student at that, is spending the night on the streets?"

In all honesty, you knew he was correct. No one would sleep well knowing an acquaintance is in a dangerous spot and yeah, he had spend the past fourty minutes in your vicinity, the past 20 minutes trying to help and figure you out.

The night moves another ten minutes in silence, branches hitting the broad windows that are framing the lecture hall as the sighs of sleep deprivation and sorrow leave his lips.

You were begining to wonder how this would play out, assuming he would just sit there with you in silence until the sun came up.

But what then?

The guilt of keeping him entangled in your mess only continues to feed itself with each wordless minute that passes, you decide to tell him to go home, you would just figure it out yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook had thought up something of his own,

"Stay at my apartment then. I have a guest room. We´ll get you something tomorrow and never speak about this again"

Nothing could have prepared you from the sentence that just left his lips. What is even worse about this, is how carelessly he said it, like a passing comment. Even when he basically suggested something comparable to running to the end of the rainbow for a goldpot.

"WHAT" you can´t help it, it just comes shooting out at the complete buffoonery of this situation, that somehow keeps happening with him.

He chuckled briefly at your outburst before combing through his raven hair, his eyes never changing from the standard glare

"Look, it´s fucking close to midnight, I need sleep and you need somewhere to sleep so I will be able to actually go to sleep"

His explanation is as self centered as you had awaited it to be,that does not take away from the fact that your teacher asked you to stay the night as his place.

"I- I can´t believe you would rather i sleep in your apartment than the library. No thank you, I´m taking the bench" your head shakes violently as your face turns from surprise to cringing at the idea.

There is no way in hell you would spend the night at your teachers house

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Okay, maybe i lied.

"Turn off the damn radio and- god fasten your seatbelt for fucks sake" Jungkook groans over to you in the passenger seat of his car.

It feels like a parade of clowns are banging on your door by the second you sat down into the black hyundai. Laughing at you like you were the circus performer, not them.

Somehow, he had managed to persuade you into taking up his offer. It is only for a couple hours after all, only to pass the night. So now, he´s bitching to you about something from the drivers seat, 8 minutes past midnight.

Ridiculous, so fucking annoying already. He thinks while reaching over your torso to loosen the seatbelt that is stuck behind the carseat.

Your breath hitches at his closeness, his arm grazing over yours for a millisecond when he reaches over.

Too close.

So close you can smell the cotton scented shampoo he uses, so close you could count the moles on his arms.

You haven´t spoken a word to him since agreeing on his offer and you don´t plan to. Originally, to lessen the awkwardness of everything, now, unsure if that made everything even more awkward.

Even your attempt to lighten the mood with the radio playing got rudely rejected by him.

What a long night it has been.

The drive is short, twelve minutes void of conversation and barely lit streets. Jungkook´s eyes don´t avert the road once, his stare never creeps it´s way over to check if you were still breathing. Given by the quiet as a mouse attitude of yours, it would certainly be a possibility.

Apart from the engine rumbling and the tires rolling on the concrete roads, you noticed his habit to hum whenever the traffic lights would turn green. He also only uses his right arm to drive, keeping his left pressed flat on his thigh.

Endearing, kind of.

Once parked in front of a small apartment complex, he gets out with you and your trusty backpack following right behind. The car locks as he enters the complex, then the elevator.

"Did you loose your voice or are you purposefully getting on my nerves" his tired speech cuts through the thick air,

finally

"Just don´t really know what to say. This is all so strange" you reply, trying to sound non-chalant when the hammering of your nervous heartbeat is so far up your throat, you might actually be sick.

"it is" he says, stepping outside of the elevator and rustling his keys to unlock the door, as if it is not his fault you guys ended up like this.

When the door opens, you are greeted with a white, dimly lit hallway. He takes off his shoes first before you repeat the action and walks into, what you would assume, the livingroom. The apartment is far from the cold and empty modernity you had expected. It´s quite cozy, small but filled with photography and paintings. The apartment generally smells just like him, cotton, a hint of wood and leather.

There are four doors around, one that is open clearly leading to the kitchen, two that are across from each other and one at the very back.

"Sit down on the couch, don´t stand there so awkwardly"

His suggestion is once again, more of a demand that you, as usual, comply to. Jungkook doesn´t try to show you around, skipping all the weird hosting formalities, except for one.

He sits down next to you, keeping a comfortable distance between both of your bodies

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

"Water would be good, yeah" the reply sounds painfully forced in an effort to keep the small talk and get to sleep as soon as possible.

The thought of having to face him the next morning made you want to rip your hair out, to try and distract yourself you look around the open space, taking in the beautiful pictures hung up around.

Once he sets the glass of water down you accept it gladly, drinking from it in another attempt to conceal the uncomfortable situation.

"Did you take these?" curiously you point to a collage above the coffetable in the corner of the room. It´s a collection of damp flowers and pretty fields, the color scheme is white and lavender.

It suits him, you think

"Mhm, took em´ four years ago" his voice echos through the walls of his home, following your stare directed at the collage.

"So photography can be pretty, maybe I´m really just talentless" you scoff, remembering the awful portfolio you handed him in.

"Yes, to both of those"

The comment seems to have softened the mood a little bit, you can physically feel your shoulders release tension.

"Jungkook?" now it is his turn to look at you, trying to guess what would follow the sound of his name out of your mouth. He can´t help but jump a bit every time it rolls off of your tongue, natural but uncomfortable at once.

"yeah?", he says

"i know you hate this but I really can not, well, not say this. Thank you for your effort. You may be an asshole but you definitely are a man of your word. You wasted way too much time and concern and fuck, even let me stay here. I owe you something" once your rant is finished, you laugh before searching his face for the scoff you usually see presented there, regardless of the situation.

Only to find it gone,

It has been replaced by a soft smile, something so foreign on his face, it made you feel a spark of joy.

"I guess that was pretty nice of me. You definitely owe me some shit. I´ll get you the sheets yeah? we need to get some rest" Without really acknowledging what you had told him, he brushes past the attempt of a heartfelt conversation. To you, he didn´t have to say anything, the smile was enough to signal,

You´re welcome.

Now you stood there, sheets in hand, trying not to look at your teacher in his guest bedroom.

While putting the sheets on the bed, he stays leaning against the doorframe, watching you blankly

"Mind if i ask, you know, what happend?"

It hadn´t occurred to you before that you never actually spoke the words i got kicked out of the shelter

"With things like shelters, women with children have, righteously so, priority over runaway college kids. That´s all" , you explain,your eyes fixated on the task before you, finally finishing it up, the satisfaction of sleep inching way closer that it is now basically in reach.

He hums in response, making you look at him, leaned against his doorframe, full glory in grey sweats and a black shirt, hair laying messily over his glasses

When did he get changed?

"So. about tomorrow then, I´m guessing you won´t be able to find something so fast" tainted by exhaustion his voice tries it´s best to sound stern, nevertheless, a yawn escaping his lips makes him feel much less distant than usual.

Maybe it's just the fact that you're in his house, but that is besids the point.

"Yeah sherlock that is why i kept trying to tell you to just let me sleep at the damn library" you roll your eyes, this is the fifth time you tried explaining that to Jungkook. As a teacher, you expected him to be a little faster than that.

"Oh my god this again? I´ll kick you out if you protest one more damn time. You can just fucking stay here until a shelter calls you back, Why are you so attached to that library"

The last part arrives to your ear fuzzily as he had already shut the door of the guest bedroom, leaving you to think for yourself with what he had just uttred

Slipped secretly between his cussing he offered you to live with him temporarily. Just like that, blatant, sudden, plain. The words ring in your head, over and over again.

You can just fucking stay here

Like it´s no big deal

Whatever

You would deal with it tomorrow, it was just a comment. Sleep is far more necessary, begging you to finally rest for the remaining couple hours of the night. Too exhausted to continue thinking,

"Good night to you as well" you yell, opening the door just a bit for him to hear, earning a groan in response.

[stevie-petey]

episode four: the body

For the second time within a week, Steve Harrington almost kills you with his stupid BMW. Granted, the first time wasn’t necessarily his fault due to your crying, but this time just felt personal.  “Hey! Henderson!” “Jesus christ-” You’re biking to the Wheeler’s, lost in thought as the sun begins to set, when stupid Harrington scares the shit out of you.  His unexpected shouting causes you to swerve your bike towards his car and he has to slam on his brakes to avoid hitting you.  “Do you, like, have a fantasy about me hitting you with my car?”

summary: you basically have a "no babe don't cry over ur dead brother ur so sexy" moment with jonathan, hopper plays mr love doctor (cute date idea: coffin shopping), and somehow nancy wheeler makes you realize that you're a horrible babysitter and an even bigger idiot. meanwhile: steve harrington is frustratingly charming.

rating: general but plenty of cursing as usual.

warnings: cursing, fem!reader, and use of y/n.

words: 8k

before you swing in: hello ! happy eve of a spending time with loved ones, however ya choose to celebrate or not celebrate and all that jazz. i hope y'all are well and doing okay :) a LOT happens in this chapter, so buckle up. so many feelings and revelations my god. also this chapter is one i really loved writing purely because i got to explore more of steve and reader so ,,, ya welcome ! (hopefully i was able to clear up jonathans thoughts and how he processes, i really want it to come across as someone hurt and overwhelmed rather than just him being cranky lmao). anyways, enjoy !!

-

It’s a quiet morning.

You roll over, the sunlight streaming through your curtains, and for a moment you forget. It’s a blissful moment, sweet naivety that strokes your cheek and coaxes your eyes open. As you throw your arms over your head and stretch, last night’s events haven’t caught up to you quite yet. 

Then you feel Jonathan’s body next to yours and for a moment you’re confused. He never sleeps in your bed whenever he spends the night, being ever the gentleman. No matter how many times you offer, he always insists on respecting your mother’s wishes and sleeping on the giant beanbag chair within your room, and it always makes your heart warm. 

Your mother had specifically bought the beanbag for Jonathan when you were thirteen. He had been spending more and more nights at your home, sneaking in through your window to avoid his parents fighting. At first he would simply fall asleep on your carpet, despite your many reassurances that he could sleep in your bed, so when your mom unexpectedly barged into your room one morning and saw him lying face down on the ground, she freaked. 

Once you had explained everything to her (with Jonathan’s permission), she had shoved you guys into her car, dropped him off at his house, and then found the beanbag at a garage sale for $10. 

“This way, he’ll have a place to sleep that’s soft and cozy, away from my young daughter,” she had said during the drive home. You had covered your face in embarrassment at her implication, but you were also incredibly proud to call her your mom at that moment. She may be overbearing at times, but she was the kindest woman you’ve ever met. 

You rub your eyes and glance at the bean bag that sits between your bed and wall, its dusty blue color almost glowing in the early morning light. Then you glance at Jonathan, who has woken up before you, and notice the redness in his eyes and the dark circles now darker than ever. 

Then it all comes rushing back to you. 

Will’s body in the quarry. 

Holding your brother as he mourned his friend. 

El, so quiet and shy and sweet, running away after your cruel dismissal. 

Jonathan showing up to your window hours later, broken and devastated. 

Then, late into the night, the two of you falling asleep, side by side in your bed, both needing each other more than ever before. 

The two of you get ready without saying anything. You hand Jonathan some spare clothes of his that you keep in a drawer before giving him some space as you go and take a shower. You spend longer than usual getting ready, but you pay no attention to the clock. There’s no way you’re going to school today. You’re not leaving Jonathan alone for even a second. 

Jonathan finishes getting ready before you do and waits in your room. Neither of you have said anything yet, last night being too fresh in your memories, but words aren’t needed between the two of you. 

You take his hand and lead him into your kitchen and wordlessly hand him a banana. He stares at you, and you stare back, silently challenging him to decline the food. He needs to eat. You’ve noticed how thin he’s gotten with everything happening. 

He sighs, knowing he won’t win this fight, and takes a bite out of the banana in a mocking manner, but you’re just relieved he’s eating. 

You grab your own breakfast before writing a note for your mom, informing her that you’ll be with Jonathan today and promising to make up any missed assignments as soon as you can. Then you quietly go into Dustin’s room to check up on him, but his bed is empty. You glance at his alarm clock and note the early hour, he doesn’t normally leave for school for another thirty minutes, which makes you frown. 

Where the hell did the kid run off to?

An uneasy feeling settles over you, but you don’t have time to question anything. Knowing Dustin, he ran off to school earlier than usual to see his friends and distract himself from last night. While your mom offered you both to stay home for the rest of the week due to Will’s death, neither of you have ever been good at staying put and dealing with your emotions.

Wherever your brother is, you know he needs his space.

Once everything is settled, you join Jonathan in his car and drive to his place. While he never explicitly asked you to this morning, you know that you’re going to his house with him to help him deal with his mother and the funeral preparations. 

He doesn’t have to ask, and you don’t have to tell him that you’ll help. 

You both just know. 

About halfway to his place, Jonathan finally speaks. 

“The cops say that Will crashed his bike and fell into the quarry,”

“Jonathan, we don’t have to talk about it right now-”

“My mom doesn’t believe that he’s dead. She-she insists that he’s in the walls, that he can speak through-through… Christmas lights.”

His voice shakes as he speaks, and you can’t tell if it’s due to grief or anger. 

“Will is dead and my mom chooses to believe that there’s some monster in our walls that took him.”

“A monster?” you think about El and her powers and the fear on the boys’ faces when she pulled out the Demogorgon piece. Then you remember the other night at the Byers’ home when Joyce came running outside as the lights were flickering wildly. Her fear had been genuine. 

“A fucking monster that’s hiding in our walls. She wouldn’t… she wouldn’t listen, Y/N. I tried talking to her, to calm her down, but she just…” His words fade off, and he clenches his jaw as tightens his hands around the steering wheel. 

You’re not sure what to say. It’s a tough situation, a fucking heartbreaking one, and it’s all so unfair. Jonathan needs his mom, but his mom needs Will. 

You rest your hand behind his head and allow your fingers to rub circles against his skin. He leans into your touch, and for now this is all you can do. 

The state of the Byers’ home has only gotten worse since the last time you were there. There’s now letters painted on the wall and string lights placed all throughout the house. There’s also clothes in random corners and trash thrown around. 

Jonathan had been staying in this house alone, watching his mother spiral. Your stomach twists with guilt. 

You should’ve been there more for him, but instead you allowed your petty need to help everyone distract you from what’s important. 

Joyce is passed out on the couch with an ax clutched between her hands, which breaks your heart even more. Jonathan walks over to wake her up and you give the two of them some privacy as you head into the kitchen to make Joyce some breakfast. 

Their fridge is barren, but you aren’t surprised. You make do with the few eggs you find and get to work; it isn’t much, but it’ll have to do. As you prepare breakfast, you notice a stack of Will’s drawings on the kitchen table, which causes you to gag with remorse. 

There’s still so much of Will within these walls, his entire childhood still locked inside, untouched, and yet the house lacks his presence. 

He’s gone. 

– 

You wait with Hopper in the morgue waiting room, nervously tapping your foot and frantically trying to distract yourself with a comic. The words blur together in your head and the images float around. You can’t focus on anything. For once, Spidey’s quips and banter can’t distract you from reality. 

Not only are you incredibly worried for Joyce and Jonathan, but the thought of Will’s body being a wall away from you sends chills down your spine. You can’t imagine what’s happening behind the doors, and you’re secretly relieved that you’ll never know. 

“What’s taking so long?” Hopper’s voice breaks you from your thoughts.

You put your comic down and listen, figuring that it’s best if you’re caught up on everything so that you can store away any useful information for later. 

The front desk lady sighs. “Well, everything’s been a bit chaotic around here without Gary.”

This catches Hopper’s attention. “Without Gary?”

“I thought you knew. Those men from State, they… they sent Gary home last night.”

Now this catches your attention. Why would the State replace the town’s coroner? 

“So who did the autopsy?” 

“Someone from State.” 

Hopper looks at you, almost as if to ask if you’re also hearing this, and you give him a slight nod. It’s odd, really damn odd. 

“Why would they send someone for a little boy?” You ask Hopper, but he only shakes his head in response. 

In the back of your mind, you think about what El had warned you of. The bad men, the people she has to hide from… it didn’t make sense at the time, but now…

Your thoughts are cut off as Jonathan runs out the door, his hand over his mouth, and you immediately get up to help him outside. He throws up against the wall outside, and you wince at the smell. You’ve never been good with people getting sick, but Jonathan needs you right now, so you rub soothing circles on his back as he throws up. Once he’s done, you head back inside and wait for Joyce. 

You offer Jonathan a tissue before coaxing him to rest his head on your shoulder. Having nothing else to do, yet urgently wanting to help, you begin to read him some panels from your comic. He doesn’t say anything, so you take it as a sign to keep going. Your voice is hoarse from all your crying, but you read aloud anyways. 

Hopper watches your interaction with a small interest. You don’t notice his curious eyes and the way they seem to glint with sincerity. In his eyes, the two of you will get together soon enough. 

After a couple minutes, Hopper finally asks Jonathan how Joyce is holding up. The boy straightens up, but grabs your hand to steady himself, and responds as best as he can. He explains the lights, the letters on the wall, everything. 

“She’s had anxiety problems in the past, but this…? I don’t know.” He takes a shaky breath, and you draw reassuring patterns on the back of his hand. “I’m worried it could be… god, I don’t know.”

“She’s grieving,” you remind him, and he nods. 

“Yeah, she’s grieving, but she’ll be okay. We’ll be okay; my mom, she’s tough.”

“Like Spider-Man,” you say, though you don’t really mean to. You’re tired and the words just slip out, but Jonathan begins to laugh. 

“Yeah, like Spider-Man, you’re right. Thanks, bug.” 

“Anytime, bee.” 

Jonathan smiles at you, still softly laughing, and it’s then that you realize. He hasn’t laughed in days, he’s hardly even smiled, and yet here he is, smiling at the stupid nickname you gave him and laughing at the stupid joke you didn’t even mean to say; you realize you’d do anything to get him to laugh again, to give you that smile that he’s only ever reserved for you. He squeezes your hand and his eyes shine for a moment with a familiar warmness that has always made you weak. 

It hits you like a cold, cruel wave on a harsh winter day. 

You’re in love with Jonathan. 

Fuck.

It’s horrible timing, and you feel sick with guilt for realizing that you love your best friend merely hours after his brother has died, but now it’s all you can think about. 

You love him, you love him more than you’ve ever loved anything before, but you can’t tell him. It wouldn’t be fair, and you don’t have the time. 

You’re thankful when Hopper begins to talk again, reiterating that Joyce is tough, so that you have the time to process your newfound feelings. 

Then Joyce comes crashing through the door, screaming about how whatever is in the other room isn’t Will, ignoring everyone who tells her to calm down. Both you and Jonathan stand up to calm her down, your comic dropping to the ground in the process, but she doesn’t listen and instead runs outside. 

“Mom!” Jonathan follows after her. 

You sigh and tuck your hair behind your ears before picking up the comic. You know that Jonathan needs to be alone with Joyce right now, give them some privacy, it’s a personal matter. More personal than anything else, and yet you also selfishly don’t want to be near him for a few moments so you can collect yourself as well. 

As you’re gathering your things, Hopper clears his throat. 

“Do you love him?”

You freeze, having not expected such a personal question. You’ve only just realized your feelings for him, how the hell has Hopper already figured it out? “What does it matter? His brother is dead and his mom is losing it.”

Hopper rubs his hand over his face, giving you a warning look. “But do you love the kid?”

It’s the way he says it, like it means life or death, that has you respond, “I do.”

“Take care of him, then.” He looks you in the eyes as he says it, urging you to understand the weight of his words, and you do. 

You’ve heard about how his daughter had died and his wife divorced him soon after. They’d only ever been rumors to you, but now you know that they’re true. He’s telling you to take care of Jonathan, that your love for him means that you have to take care of him in a way that no one else can. 

In a way, you suppose that you and Hopper aren’t so different after all, and you gain a new sense of respect for the man. 

You swallow deeply and nod at him before excusing yourself to follow after Jonathan and Joyce. 

– 

The mother and son in question are a few blocks down the street, Joyce waving her son away as he follows her with the car. 

You sigh. 

This day definitely sucks. 

Running up to them is a pain in the ass, honestly. You get that you gave them some privacy, but damn. Did Jonathan seriously have to take the car as well? 

When you finally catch up, he’s parking. “Hey, what are you-” 

He doesn’t spare you a glance as he turns the engine off and runs after his mom. 

“Seriously?” You groan, clutching at a stitch in your side from running. Usually you’re a great runner, actually choosing to go for a run whenever you’re particularly stressed out or anxious. However with the shitshow that this week has been, you haven’t gone on your morning run in a while and you’re starting to feel the effects of being out of practice. 

Joyce, being surprisingly fast, is hard to catch up with, but you do your best as Jonathan sprints ahead of you. When he finally reaches her, he grabs at her jacket with a determined look in his eyes. 

You hang back, now regretting the fact that you left the coroner’s office in the first place. 

“Mom, stop!” 

“Just go home, Jonathan.”

“No, this is not an okay time for you to shut down.”

“Shut down… what-” The confusion in Joyce’s eyes is enough to make you feel Jonathan’s frustration as well. You feel for the woman, you really do, but she has another son to worry about. Jonathan is still here, he’s lost his own baby brother, he needs his mom now more than ever.

But Joyce, too lost in her own grief and desperation, can’t see that. 

“We have to deal with this, mom. We have to deal with the funeral!” You’ve never heard Jonathan raise his voice at his mom before, but after days of begging for her attention, you’re proud of him for defending himself.

The word “funeral” seems to snap Joyce out of her daze and once again she goes on her tangent about how Will’s body isn’t really back at the morgue, that he’s still alive, and Jonathan’s anger in his voice makes you ache. 

As he and his mom continue to yell at one another, a few nosy people in the town area stand and watch. They whisper to each other, no doubt about how Will’s death has made Joyce Byers crazy, and you kick a few rocks at them. 

“Fuck off! At least pretend that you aren’t a bunch of nosy assholes like most decent people do.” A woman sneers at you, but you wave your arms above your head, “Oh! Scary! Get fucked!” 

Eventually they do as they’re told and walk away from the screaming mother and son, which pleases you. 

You really hope that random lady wasn’t a patron of Bookstrordinary though. 

“Yeah, well, while you’re talking to the lights, Y/N and I will be planning a funeral for Will!” Jonathan’s voice is laced with bitterness as he screams at his mother, breaking your heart even more. “I’m not letting him sit in that freezer another day!” 

Joyce storms off, but you notice that her shoulders shake with tears as she leaves. 

It’s such a devastating situation, and while you’re also frustrated with the way she’s been treating Jonathan, you also know that maybe her craziness isn’t exactly “crazy”. El is still out there, even if you’re not sure where, and you think about how she was able to control the comic book and the game pieces. The static electricity you felt in the air when she used her powers, the same static you felt at the Byers’ home a few nights ago when Joyce came running outside with the lights flashing and Will’s song playing on the radio.

But then you think about how El promised that Will was alive. 

He isn’t; you see his dead body every time you close your eyes. 

So really, what is there to believe?

Lost in thought, you don’t notice Jonathan walking towards you until he grasps at your arm and flings you along back to the car with him. He’s breathing heavily and you notice that he’s shaking. He’s in no condition to drive. 

As you near the car you quickly reach around and grab his keys from his pocket before running over to the driver’s side and throwing yourself into the seat. Jonathan hates when you drive the car, not because you’re a bad driver, but because some part of him truly believes it’s impolite to make a girl drive. 

As cute as you think his chivalry is, today you couldn’t give more of a damn. 

Jonathan stands outside your door. “Y/N-”

“Nope, no time to argue, Byers. Get in.” 

“But-” 

“In.”

He does as he’s told, albeit with some attitude, but eventually the two of you are off. Without having to ask, you drive to the local funeral home. While you and Jonathan are similar in many ways, the one thing that pulls you together is planning. You both cling onto the stability that planning provides, and right now Jonathan is clinging onto his responsibilities for Will’s funeral.

Like he told his mom earlier, you and him have a funeral to plan. 

The funeral home is closer to the edge of Hawkins, so the drive is a longer one. Along the way Jonathan slowly begins to calm down, untensing his shoulders and releasing his clenched jaw. You let him take all the time he needs, thankful that for now you have some time to yourself to reflect over today’s revelation.

You love Jonathan. 

Those three words are heavy within your chest, and you almost don’t want to think about them, but you know that sooner or later you’ll have to. You glance at Jonathan, the late fall sun casts a warm glow on his face that for a brief moment brings back the boy you knew only a week ago, before everything changed. Then he turns to face you and you see the red in his eyes, his cheeks sunken in, and you know that you don’t have the time to unravel whatever you feel for him. 

He needs his best friend right now.

Jonathan’s voice breaks you from your thoughts, his voice cracking a bit from disuse. “Can we talk about yesterday?” 

You cast him a quick glance. “Yesterday?”

“Our… our fight, I guess.” 

“Oh,” you shift your hands on the steering wheel, now suddenly painfully aware of the silence within the car. “We don’t have to right now, bee. We should be focusing on the funeral arrangements.” 

Your voice catches on the word “funeral”, it still hasn’t sunk in yet that Will is really gone. 

“Bug, for the past eighteen hours all I’ve been thinking about is Will,” he takes a shaky breath and you gently place a hand on his, encouraging him to keep talking, “but when I’m not thinking about him… I’m thinking about you and what-what you said yesterday.” 

“I said a lot yesterday-” 

Jonathan gives you a pleading look. “Please just let me get this out, okay?”

You purse your lips but remain silent. 

“I will never, ever deserve you. This week and my actions have proven that. This isn’t some pathetic attempt to make you pity me, I was an asshole to you and I recognize that. You love people in a way that terrifies me, Y/N. You’re my best friend and I think I would actually die if I ever lost you.”

A snort escapes your lips, “you probably would.”

“I definitely would, but this isn’t about me. I’m so, so sorry for how I’ve been treating you lately and the fact that you’re driving me to a funeral home after watching my mom have a meltdown in the town square without even batting an eye is all the more proof that you’re too good for me.” 

“I wouldn’t say too good, but yeah. Close enough.”

“It’s more than enough, bug. That’s what terrifies me: I’m afraid that I’ll never be able to repay you for all that you’ve done for me, even before Will disappeared; you’ve been taking care of me since we were twelve.”

His words hang in the air as you allow them to wash over you. There’s so much you want to disagree with, namely the fact that he doesn't deserve you, but you know that he wouldn’t want to hear your arguments. 

Again you think about how similar the two of you are, and while you both give your all to the people that you love, your love comes freely while Jonathan has grown up believing that it comes with conditions. It’s never been a problem in your relationship until now, but you guess with how much you’ve been overcompensating for everything, the need to return it all has caught up with him. 

Finally, you speak. “You feel that you can’t accept my help because I’ve already done enough for you. Is that it?”

“Yeah,” Jonathan takes a deep breath. “I know it’s stupid, especially because I’m asking for your help right now with the funeral preparations, but…”

“I understand, but we’ll get through it,” you pull into the funeral home parking lot and turn the car off. “We always do, right?” 

“Right,” Jonathan’s smile is a weak one, but you accept it nonetheless. 

“Now, you ready to go look at children’s coffins like real men and women do?” 

He laughs at your poor attempt at a joke, but even he can admit that objectively the entire situation is morbid. “Only real best friends go coffin shopping together.” 

“My thoughts exactly, good sir.” Then, before you forget, you reach over and whack Jonathan’s head with the back of your hand. 

“Ow! What was that for?”

You shrug your shoulders, “ask Nancy.”

And with that, you unbuckle your seatbelt and head into the funeral home, trusting that Jonathan will follow eventually enough. Things aren’t exactly the same between the two of you, especially with your newfound feelings for him, but it’s a start. 

“I deserved that,” you hear Jonathan grumble, which makes you smile. 

You’ll take whatever you can get.

– 

You spot Nancy before Jonathan does. 

It wasn’t intentional, really, but the funeral home director was droning on and on about the different wood selections for coffins and finishes that you can customize and it all makes you want to throw up; the coffins before you are so small, you weren't really paying attention in the first place. 

She stands in the doorway and motions for you to get Jonathan’s attention, who is deeply focused on everything the old man is saying. A part of you wants to ignore the girl, but the scared look on her face tells you that this is something serious. 

You nudge your shoulder against Jonathan’s and point at Nancy; he excuses the two of you as you walk towards her. 

Jonathan shoves his hands in his pockets, a bit guarded. “Hey,”

“Hey, your mom, um… said you’d be here.” 

“You talked to Mrs. Byers?” You ask, feeling a sudden possessiveness over the woman. Sure, you were kind of okay sharing Jonathan with Nancy so long as she was with Harrington, but Joyce? She’s like a second mother to you.

It made you uneasy that Joyce even talked to her in the first place. 

Nancy tilts her head at you. “Yeah, it was only for a brief moment though. She seemed pretty… distracted.” 

“No shit. Her son died, Nancy.” 

The girl flinches a bit at your tone, which causes Jonathan to yank at your sleeve and shove you behind him. “Ignore her, we’ve had… Well, it’s been a long day.” 

You feel your shoulders drop and unclench your fists. “Sorry, is everything okay? Is it the boys?”

“No, they’re fine, I just,” Nancy’s eyes shoot towards you, uncertain, before directing them towards Jonathan. “Can we talk for a second?”

The photos Nancy shows you makes your blood run cold. They start with Barb sitting alone by the pool, but slowly she pulls out more and more pieces of the torn picture to create a terrifying image with a shadow-like figure looming over her friend. 

Jonathan tries to sum the shadow up to lens distortion, but you know that he’s wrong. Nancy asks more questions, trying to figure out exactly what has happened to Barb, but all you can think about is El. 

You check the time on your watch and curse. It’s late afternoon now, you’ve been gone with Jonathan since early this morning. Dustin hadn’t been in his room when you left and you stupidly assumed that he’d gone off to school. Now, seeing the picture of Barb and that thing… Something is so goddamn wrong. 

“The cops think that she ran away,” Nancy says. 

“Just like they did with Will,” you’re whispering more to yourself than to them, but Jonathan hears you anyway. 

“Maybe she did run away-” 

Nancy shakes her head. “No, she wouldn’t do that. They don’t know Barb. When I went back to Steve’s… I thought I saw something.”

Your head shoots up. “Nancy, what did you see?”

“Some weird man,” the urgence in your voice confuses the girl, but you silently push her to keep talking, “or… I don’t know what it was.”

Both you and Jonathan are quiet afterwards for very different reasons. 

He’s quiet because he probably thinks Nancy is crazy, just like his mom. 

You’re quiet because you’re currently afraid you’ve accidentally left your idiotic brother and his friends and El alone with very real monsters and possible bad men. The figure Nancy saw… El being terrified of bad people finding and hurting her…

Well shit. 

“I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have come here today-”

You stop Nancy from leaving. “No, you should stay… I think,” you look at Jonathan, nervous for how he may react to what you’re about to say. “I think I might have an idea of what you saw last night. A lot has happened since Will disappeared, things that I’m still trying to understand, but I think I know where to start finding an explanation.” 

Jonathan turns to you. “What? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Technically I did try telling you a few nights ago but then you yelled at me and threw a jacket at my face-” 

“You threw a jacket at Y/N?” Nancy asks, which you and Jonathan ignore. 

“But for now I can’t tell you anything else. I made a promise, and I’m not sure I’m right or even sane for considering it an explanation, but we need to leave. Now.”

“A promise? To who?” There’s an edge of hurt in Jonathan’s voice and you desperately wish you could explain more to him, but now isn’t the time. Not with Nancy sitting between you two and her own brother involved. You don’t want to cause any unnecessary worry for her; right now she needs to focus on Barb. You’ll wrangle in the boys, it’s your fault they’re even alone right now with El.

“I can’t exactly say who, but just trust me, okay? Again: I really hope I’m just insane and worried about nothing and that this will all be an embarrassing laugh for us later.”

“Y/N-”

“Jonathan, we need to go.” 

“‘We’?” Nancy now speaks up, seemingly fed up by your vague exchange with Jonathan.

You try to collect yourself and pretend like you have some amazing plan. “Yes, we. Jonathan will take you to the photo developing room at school and see if you can make the pictures clearer. On the way there, he’ll drop me off at home so I can grab my bike and head out.”

“And what will you be doing?” The boy asks.

“Tracking down my brother, unfortunately.” 

He gives you a doubtful look. “C’mon, you can’t expect me to just let you run off on your own without more of an explanation.” 

You know he’s right, but you just… you can’t tell him about El and the bad men yet. You can’t. Not until you know for sure what the hell is happening. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing… but just in case, I really need to find Dustin, okay?” 

I’m a really, really bad babysitter, you think. 

Jonathan opens his mouth again as if to argue, but you hold your hand up to silence him. You really don’t want to waste time fighting with him. He has to trust you on this, whether he likes it or not. 

He sighs with defeat, “Just be safe, please.”

You also really don’t want to put anyone else in danger. It’s bad enough that you allowed the boys to get dragged into this mess, but you refuse to drag your best friend in as well. But really, who knows? Maybe you’re just a regular idiot who believes in fairy tales and monsters, not some idiot who leaves three overly naive boys alone with a girl with superpowers. 

God you hope you’re just a regular idiot. 

However, if Joyce believes that Will is alive, even without the knowledge of El and her powers, then you’re sure that the boys also believe he’s alive and will inevitably go looking for him again. Alone. In the same woods Nancy saw that strange figure. 

You cast those thoughts out of your head and give Jonathan what you hope is a reassuring smile. “When am I not safe?”

You really, truly hope that you’re just an idiot, but if the photos that you just saw scare you. Before he can change his mind, you quickly reach over and snatch Jonathan’s keys from his jacket and give him a peck on the cheek before running out to his car.

“I call shotgun, Nancy!”

– 

Unsurprisingly, the drive with Nancy and Jonathan is an awkward one. Things are still a bit tense between you and him for reasons you’re not sure you can tell him about just yet, and now Nancy is in the backseat trying not to make any sound, so really it was a doomed car ride from the start. 

It’s not that you don’t like the girl, but there’s something about the way she acts around Jonathan that honestly makes you want to collapse. You know she’s with Harrington, but the tenderness Jonathan has shown her the few times they’ve interacted makes you uneasy. 

Yesterday you chalked the uneasiness to simply never sharing Jonathan before, but now you know the truth. 

You’re jealous because you’re in love with him. 

It’s a nauseating feeling. 

“So, how long have the two of you been friends?” Nancy’s question surprises you, mostly because she should already know the answer. You know she’s just trying to make conversation, but the question itself further reminds you of why the two of you had drifted apart in the first place. 

“I moved here when I was twelve, remember? Your family helped us move in.” 

“Oh, right. Sorry,” You see Nancy nervously playing with her fingers in the rearview mirror, which makes you feel bad. She’s trying, you know she is. 

“It’s fine,” you try to catch her eye, and when you do you give her a smile. “I know you probably don’t remember much from that day. It was the middle of the school year and our brothers immediately started being annoying together, so you had gone inside after only a couple minutes.” 

Nancy laughs, now remembering that day. “Didn’t Mike hold an initiation for Dustin that night?” 

“Yeah,” you laugh with her now. “That’s actually how Jonathan and I met. Remember, bee?” 

Jonathan’s smile is a soft one, a smile that makes you feel weak because you know you’re the reason it’s there. “Of course I do. We both showed up at the Wheeler’s house at the same time to pick up our brothers.” 

“And then-” 

“I answered the door.” Nancy finishes for you. 

“Yup. Ever since then, Jonathan hasn’t been able to get rid of me.” 

“It’s been horrible,” he says with a monotone voice, but it’s clear to everyone that he’s joking. 

You punch his shoulder. “You weren’t complaining when I saved you from those bullies later that week.” 

Jonathan gives you a pointed look and tries to subtly motion towards Nancy, clearly embarrassed that you've brought the bullies up in front of her. Like he wants her to think he’s someone cooler than he really is. 

Your smile vanishes. 

He wants to impress her. 

“Right, sorry,” you clear your throat and if Nancy notices your sudden mood change, she doesn’t say anything. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment and remind yourself that what matters right now are the boys and El. They should be your priority, not petty boy drama. 

Luckily Jonathan pulls into your driveway not long after the abrupt conversation ending, which you’re thankful for. 

You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face Nancy, and it takes everything in you to force a smile on your face. “Alright, well, this is my stop! Nancy, I’m trusting you to tell me whatever you and Jonathan find. I’d ask him to keep me updated, but I know he’ll inevitably forget.”

The girl nods at you. “You can trust me.” 

Can I?

Although you’re not exactly sure what it is that you don’t think you can trust her with. Then, your eyes drift to Jonathan and the way he’s staring at her from his own mirror, and you realize that maybe she’s not the one you should be worried about. 

“Good,” you turn to Jonathan now. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“And I’ll answer… probably.” 

“You’re so sweet to me.”

“I know, right?” 

You snort at the boy and wave goodbye to him and Nancy before getting out of the car. Your bike is in the shed, so you motion to Jonathan that he’s good to leave. When he’s sure you’re okay, he waves at you one last time and drives away. 

It feels like you’ve made a huge mistake as you watch Jonathan and Nancy leave, but you don’t have time to think about why. Dustin’s bike isn’t in the shed alongside yours, which you expected, and you have to find him. 

Your brother and his idiotic friends need you right now. 

– 

For the second time within a week, Steve Harrington almost kills you with his stupid BMW. Granted, the first time wasn’t necessarily his fault due to your crying, but this time just felt personal. 

“Henderson!”

“Jesus christ-” You’re biking to the Wheeler’s, lost in thought as the sun begins to set, when stupid Harrington scares the shit out of you. 

His unexpected shouting from the other side of the road causes you to swerve your bike towards his car and he has to slam on his brakes to avoid hitting you. 

“Do you, like, have a fantasy about me hitting you with my car?” 

You glare at the boy. “You are a man, I am a woman. It’s getting dark outside. What exactly made you think it’s a good idea to yell out at me?”

“Well, I mean, I called after you.” He says, so matter of factly that it makes you want to strangle him. 

You hate him. You really do.

A strand of hair has fallen in your face, so you blow it away before bothering to answer. “My apologies, you called after me and almost killed me in the process.”

Steve winks at you. “Apology accepted.” 

You stare at him, unamused and still in the middle of the damn road, and after a couple beats of silence you cock your head at the boy. “Are you going to tell me what you need or…?”

“Oh,” Steve coughs, as if startled by your question. “Honestly I didn’t really have a plan when I called after you. I just kinda did, so…” 

“Right, well.” You clench your jaw in annoyance. Why are you even surprised that Harrington has wasted your time? “This was fun, let’s never do it again sometime!”

You ride off on your bike, trying to quickly get up the hill so that you can get to the Wheeler’s before it gets too dark to see. The hill is brutal and it’s almost embarrassing how long it’s taking you to get up it, and as you’re huffing and dripping in sweat, headlights come up from behind you. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you groan. 

Steve’s car is now right next to you, the fucker having done a complete u-turn to follow after you. His window is still rolled down and he has one hand on the steering wheel and the other hanging out his window. 

“Hello again, Henderson.” 

“I never said hello back to you.” 

“C’mon, at least pretend to be happy to see me.”

You let out another groan as you continue to struggle up the hill. “I physically cannot do that, sorry.” 

Steve, ever the comedian, responds, “It doesn’t seem like you can physically get up this hill either.” 

You don’t give him the satisfaction of laughing, but you’re a bit annoyed that his quip was funny. What a jackass, honestly. 

“Henderson,” your silence doesn’t deter the boy, “just get in the damn car already.”

Once again you almost crash into the BMW, this time because of your complete shock at his request.

“What?”

He gives you a look as if you’re the insane one in this situation. “You’re sweatier than I am after basketball, and at the rate you’re going I’d say you’ll reach your destination in about three to five business days.”

You stare at him, speechless. 

He stares back at you with a smirk on his smug little face, knowing that he’s won the argument. “Get in the car and I’ll throw your bike in the back.” 

You do as he says, your mind completely blank and still taken aback. Sweatier than him after basketball? There’s no way that’s true, and also who says that to someone they barely even know? As if you’re really that sweaty-

You see your reflection in his car mirror and wince. 

Okay, so maybe you’re a little sweaty. 

Fuck Steve Harrington. 

The boy in question tosses your bike in the trunk as you hesitantly get in the car. He watches as you sit yourself down and laughs. “It’s a car, Henderson. It won’t bite.” 

“Yeah, but you might.” You slap a hand over your mouth, embarrassed by the implications of your words. 

Steve raises an eyebrow at you as he turns the car back on. “Careful there, last I checked you’re a taken lady.”

The embarrassment you previously felt is gone, now replaced with your usual annoyance when it comes to Steve. You think about what he did yesterday to Jonathan’s camera, the cruelty in his eyes as he watched the thing shatter onto the ground. He didn’t show any remorse, and while you understand that he had been defending his girlfriend, he had taken it too far. 

“How many times do I have to tell you that Jonathan and I are just friends?” 

“Please,” Steve huffs with amusement, “the two of you have been inseparable for years. Besides, no way a guy like Byers can just be friends with a girl like you. Not scientifically possible.” 

You wrinkle your nose. “What’s ‘a girl like you’ supposed to mean?” Then another thought occurs to you, “Also, you didn’t even know my name until this week, so don’t go acting like you know my relationship with Jonathan.”

“Relax, Henderson. It was a compliment. All I meant is that you’re decently pretty, all things considered, so I wouldn’t blame Byers if he was in love with you. It’s human nature.”

“Okay, that’s just really sexist-”

“As for knowing your name only this week, you’re wrong.”

“I’m sorry?” You ask, confused. 

Steve places a hand over his chest, almost as if he’s reaching for his heart. “Apology accepted, it means a lot to me.”

“Ugh,” you scoff at him. “That wasn’t an apology and you know it. Can you just take me to the Wheeler’s, please?”

“Woah, slow down there. First I need you to tell me why you thought I didn’t know your name, then I’ll take you to my girlfriend’s house. Free of charge.” 

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that you see some offense in Steve’s eyes for thinking he only recently learned your name, but why would he care? Besides, you know he’s never paid any attention to you before this week.

“It was literally this week that I had to tell you my name after you almost hit me with your car, Harrington.”

“Okay, hey,” the boy holds a finger up. “Actually, you almost hit me with your bike because you were too busy hysterically sobbing.”

He’s right, but you won’t tell him that. Minor details, honestly. You’re about to tell him as much before you realize what he’s said. “Wait, you knew I had been crying?”

Steve gives you a well, duh look. “Yeah, that’s why I pretended not to know your name. Figured you wouldn’t want to talk about it and the least I could do was make you laugh. And viola, I did.” 

He had willingly tried to make you laugh?

His words make you flush, which seems to only amuse him further as he chuckles at you. You wave your hand at him, now more annoyed than ever. “Okay, fine. Whatever, so you knew my name before this week, big whoop. Can you just drive now?”

“I’ll take that as an ‘I’m sorry Steve for assuming you’re an asshole who hadn’t noticed a girl you’ve known since you were thirteen’, then.” Steve takes the car out of park and begins to drive to the Wheeler’s which you’re relieved by. 

You feel uncomfortably warm after that conversation, regardless of the fact that you’re still overheated from your biking. There’s no way that Steve has seriously known about you since you were twelve and he was thirteen. No, you decide that he must be lying, playing up his usual boyish charm. He’s been this untouchable entity ever since you moved to Hawkins, so why would he have paid any attention to you?

Then your mind floats to his compliment, calling you “decently pretty”, but then again not even five minutes earlier he stated that you sweat more than he does after basketball, so really his words should mean nothing.  

And yet, after the week you’ve had and your fight with Jonathan and Will’s death and El’s mysterious powers… 

Steve’s words make you a bit giddy, embarrassingly enough. You hate that they do, because he’s Steve Harrington and he’s with Nancy who is beautiful and kind and everything you’re not. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of you. 

You pick at your nails as he drives, the car silent, and you accidentally graze against the cut on your finger from yesterday. It’s scabbed over by now, but the pain is still fresh. 

“I know that what Jonathan did was wrong, I won’t excuse his actions. Standing up for Nancy was the right thing to do and I admire you for it, really,” Steve spares you a glance as he drives, nodding his head slightly to indicate that he’s listening. “But breaking Jonathan’s camera wasn’t.” 

He groans. “Nancy said the same thing, but what’s the big deal? The creep shouldn’t have access to a camera if he can’t use it properly.”

The slight warmth that Steve had somehow put in your chest dissipates at his words. “Jonathan isn’t a creep, but regardless of the situation, the big deal is this: not everyone can afford a fancy BMW and Raybans. Not everyone in Hawkins lives in a giant mansion with a pool. He worked so hard to afford that camera, it’s not something that he can just buy again on a whim.” 

Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Henderson, you know I didn’t mean it like that-”

“I know, but it was still a shitty thing to do.”

The silence that settles in the car is a heavy one, and you almost feel bad for Steve. You know he hadn’t thought about the repercussions of his actions, but you suppose that the fact that he hadn’t considered the price of a camera was proof enough of his naivety. 

When you get to the Wheeler’s, Steve gets out of the car to help you with your bike. He doesn’t let you do a thing, so you stand there and awkwardly watch. You can tell that he’s trying to make up for his actions from yesterday, which you appreciate. 

“Thank you,” you say once he places the bike down. 

“All in a day’s work.” Steve responds, wiping his hands off on his jeans. 

As he turns to leave, you stop him. “And thank you for earlier this week, ya know, for making me laugh after falling off my bike. I, uh, appreciate it.” 

He seems surprised by your sincerity, but he smiles. “Again: all in a day’s work. And listen, I’m sorry about Byers’ camera,” Then he quickly adds, as if afraid he won’t have the nerve to later, “I’m sorry about Will, too. I figure you were close with him and now he’s…”

His words trail off, not wanting to say the word “dead”, which you can’t blame him for. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a bad person.” Steve turns to face you now, your words catching his undivided attention. “You just have the worst taste in friends, but when you aren’t around them… I guess you’re alright.” 

He laughs a bit, but there’s a certain emotion in his eyes that you can’t quite name; you have to stop yourself from leaning in closer to him. Suddenly the space between you feels too close and you take a step back, but as you move you feel Steve’s hand ruffle your hair. “I guess you’re ‘alright’ too, Henderson.” 

You watch as he leaves, standing in the Wheeler’s driveway for longer than necessary. You place your hand on your head and find yourself smiling, the warmth of his touch still faintly there.

-

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[scentedcollectorconnoisseur]

This image but it's Powder and Ekko…(Read More)

[moirindeclermont]

Bridgerton folks, thank you for the warm reception of my new story.

This is "5 times Colin was Pen's first + 1 she was his", second episode. Here you'll find the first episode.

Today episode may also be titled "Pen meets Mr. Fingerton" 🔥🥵

***

Pen thought she might have dreamed the whole night.

No way Colin declared he wanted her and proceed to give her the best first kiss ever, and while she had not experienced it before, she knew the stories... Usually a first kiss was not all of that magical. Maybe it was because it was her and it was Colin. Everything they did seem kinda magical to her.

She was, again, at the door of his apartment and she was almost waiting for the moment he would start to treat her as a friend.

Instead, what happened, was that Colin opened the door, gave her his brightest smile and then a light kiss on her lips. So, maybe it was real.

"Sorry, I should have asked, I didn't know if you wanted-" he was adorable when he rumbled, Pen observed.

"Don't worry Colin. It's just, unexpected. I love welcoming you like this. Every day for the rest of my days".

She didn't have to worry about waiting for such declarations. Yesterday they talked at length about the future and them as a couple.

They both confessed they were yearning for this for quite some time, and they both laugh at their idiocy. But they were on the same page now. And they both know this was not a phase or temporary. They both were fully invested since the beginning.

That was the reason for seeing each other tonight. Well, that... And other reasons, at least Pen was hoping there were also other reasons.

She waited to damn long and she was ready. Possibly in that moment.

They ate and talk, laying out plans for their announcement as a couple (next Sunday on the bridgerton brunch). Pen was to ask her boss if she could do all remote (so she could come with Colin on his travels, as by his ask) and Colin was looking for a permanent place in London, so they could have a home base to stay when they were in the city (and eventually, when they were going to have kids).

Then, they looked at each other and it was like a magnet was at work.

They find themselves on the sofa, Pen on Colin's lap, kissing and touching every part they could reach.

Colin nibbled on her neck, before asking in a very deep voice "can I try something, Pen?"

She nodded. She wanted to try everything with him.

Colin flipped their position, then threw a pillow on the floor and knelt in front of her. She had a camisole and her lacy bra was barely visible. He took his time to unbutton her slowly, and Pen gulped when he was done. "Beautiful," he whispered.

Colin cupped her through the bra, teasing her. "May I?" He asked again and she responded by unclasping her bra herself. "Wow, Pen" Colin exhaled as his fingers were tracing her areola lightly. Her nipple was fastly caught it n between his fingers, making her moan. Colin looked at her with a wicked and deeply erotic smile, as he lowered his head to touch the sensitive skin with his tongue. "Ohh," his were the only fingers outside of her own that played with her breasts, and it felt marvelous.

Colin seemed obsessed by her neck and her cleavage. Pen was on fire, but she needed more. When his hand found hers, she rather directly pointed him towards where she was aching to be touched.

He looked at her. "Sure?"

"Never been more sure in my life," and Colin kissed her again, before finding her thigh and sliding his hand. He found her bare, much to his surprise.

"Miss Featherington!"

She was a bit embarrassed. "I had them on before. But then I thought why not and asked to use the bath."

His eyes were dark with desire. "Oh I do understand. You're an eager little thing, aren't you?"

Speechless. This was a new side of Colin she could not wait to explore. She just nodded as he skimmed over her auburn curls, "yup, eager and wet," he said as he went to touch her folds, using her wetness to lube his fingers.

He touched her lightly at first, watching her reactions, sometimes teasing her nipple s again, sometimes giving her little kisses.

"I can't believe I get to see you like this, Pen" and she wanted to respond but Colin choose that moment to slowly enter her with just the tip of his middle finger. "I can't believe I get to touch you like this," as his finger slide in deeper. Her mouth opened, the sensation so different from the one she was used too when she touched herself. A loud moan escaped her lips and he started a slow rhythm that made her tingle all over.

"Yes, like that love," he told her as he begin to touch with his thumb her clït, adding another level of pleasure. After some time he asked "another?" And she nodded her consent, feeling how herself was responding to his second finger inside her.

"I want to make you come on my fingers, is that okay Pen?"

Dear God in heaven. She might as well be in paradise. "Yes, Colin. Please!" She told him and then her brain went out of service as Colin kissed her.

It was clear he knew what he was doing, as he moved his fingers inside her with a motion that was working very fast for her. That and the light touch on her nub left her breathless, as Colin watched her again. That was the hottest thing. His look on her, as she was breaking into pieces under his touch. Pen used his arms to steady herself as Colin increased his rhythm until suddenly she was on the precipe and Colin remained steady in his movements.

She moaned a loud "Colin" a moment after, coming on his fingers. She moaned when she saw him sucking on his fingers like a it was his favorite dessert. "Next time," he said to her and she trembled.

Colin sat next to her, holding her steady. "That was... Incredible!" He looked smug, and Pen was looking at his very visible erection. "Do you want to?"

He looked at her. "I want to. But I also want to wait. Just a bit longer. It's weird to explain." But she understood.

"it's not. These are our firsts. We might have some in the future, but after so long waiting for each other, pacing these experiences makes them more meaningful."

He looked at her. "You nailed it."

She grinned. "Nope, you did."

Colin laughed loudly. "Not yet, love. Not yet." As he settled her on his side, kissing the top of her head sweetly.

She always imagined cuddle was as good as people told her, but somehow, it was even better than her imagination. These days everything was.

[piracytheorist]

Twilight Eyes Project: "Secure a Wife" (part 1)

Previous episode analysis here

Unsurprisingly, as the very first scene of the episode is Twilight deciding that Franky isn't eligible for the wife role, we get Twilight eyes.

And as mentioned before, it's with certain expressions still visible through them.

We continue to closed Twilight eyes.

Eyebrows are still furrowed down towards his nose. That's usually a big telltale.

Continuing with more Twilight eyes.

I might not need to actually catalogue every single time we see his eyes. But those scenes were purely business as usual, with only Anya and Franky present. It makes sense why he wouldn't use "Loid eyes" or reveal his real face with Franky... but it's interesting how he doesn't use "Loid eyes" for Anya either. In his mind, being "neutral" like that works, so he doesn't bother putting more effort to make himself look more approachable to Anya. Little does he know why Anya already trusts him 😆

Then, we're onto the boutique scene. He looks at Anya with neutral Twilight eyes, wondering where she learns words like "getting trafficked",

and then, investigative eyes as he considers his options around the boutique.

After he rejects two possibilities and considers it will take a long time to find an ideal fake wife, in the manga we're still on investigative eyes looking to the front, but in the anime it's Twilight eyes looking to the side (where the shop owner was, as his attention was on her).

I believe this was done in order to emphasize on the animation of his face as he reacts to Yor's sudden presence behind him. The manga goes from the expression above to an immediate jolt. The anime allows him a small reaction of "wait what's that" before he also jolts.

And just who is that woman that sneaked up on him? Time for work! Thus, focused Twilight eyes.

Another difference: when the memory of Yor's picture pops in his mind, the eye we see in the manga is open, while in the anime they're both closed (in concentration). A deliberate change?

His eyes open right after, outside the "memory effect", as he looks back at Yor and inner-monologues about Yor's situation.

In the manga, he seems to turn a little back so he stands by her side, though pretending to not be looking at her. (at first he was leaning his side on the counter, so Yor came up right behind him. Now he's turned to lean his back on the counter, and I assume he did so he could check out who she was)

In the anime, he keeps his back turned on her. Still, in the manga he looks to his other side, away from Yor, as he berates himself for not noticing her immediately.

After all, Yor is supposed to be an everyday citizen, working a casual job at city hall, right? Why would she be able to sneak up on him? Must be his fault.

Anyway, the positioning is a little different here, though both cases seem to make Yor noticing his gaze make more sense. In the manga, if he turned around so he could keep her in his periphery, it would be noticed by her. In the anime, him looking over his shoulder at her is quite distinct.

Yor confronts him about his stare, and he swings a chance, telling her he thinks she's pretty. Yor reacts positively (albeit not in the way he'd expect from a honey pot target), and... though he activates Loid voice, his eyes are more expressive of his surprise at her reaction than anything else.

To be fair, her reaction was unexpected, so he probably wasn't sure whether the welcoming, over-willing "Loid eyes" would be appropriate. I just like that it threw him off, haha.

The anime treats us to another view of his face as he looks at her, having no idea she's about to ask him to be her pretend boyfriend and thus make all his plans fit into place.

Hi pot, meet kettle!

Twilight eyes as he considers asking Yor to play the wife role, then grows doubts about it. Kind of a miss for the anime to not have him say that he had doubts because he thought that Yor being so intuitive might become a hurdle.

Anya puts her plan to motion, Yor asks about the wife, and we get our first Loid eyes of the chapter/episode.

His backstory is already established (even though Franky called him a divorcee in the beginning, was that a translation error?) so he doesn't need "work" eyes, and said wife never actually existed so there's no emotions tied to her, so no excuse for "real eyes". But he gotta look approachable to Yor. He's but a mere single father, trying to do his best for his daughter that he definitely knows longer than a week, see!

I don't claim to be an expert in this analysis, so half the reasons I share these posts is so that more people can chime in. I don't think those below are "Twilight eyes", while Yor explains her situation.

They look more neutral than anything else. Definitely focused, but more relaxed since, curiously enough, Yor seems to be setting a very fruitful foundation for his plan. Almost too good to be true. If only he knew it will actually get even easier 😆

They do, however, turn into Twilight eyes as he undoubtedly goes like "That's it. That's my chance."

The next manga panel is too small to discern his reaction, but in the anime he immediately switches to Loid (?) eyes as he accepts Yor's request.

My question mark is there because "Loid eyes" make sense there, cause he's about to warm her up to his request, which is a far more complicated ordeal than hers. However, his eyes aren't as wide open as "Loid eyes" usually are. His smile reaches his eyes, making him look calmer - this is usually the telltale sign for "real eyes". But I think it's too early for him to show any honesty with Yor there. Maybe I'm overthinking it. There will be a lot of that down the line XD

Anyway! Twilight eyes as he explains his situation, and makes himself look like a very dedicated father who totally wants to honour the wishes of his late wife, who totally, 100% existed.

Narrowed, focused eyes. This is his one chance to get the ideal wife for the mission and the rest of his life. He can't pass it up.

And then, a complete change! Investigative eyes (aka extreme "Twilight eyes") in the manga... and Loid eyes in the anime!

I get the need for a change, though. The manga has a "shadow" over Twilight's face, suggesting that it focuses more on his inner thoughts - and planning - than what is being said. In the same manner, in the anime, the sound focus is on Twilight's thoughts, with his speaking voice being almost inaudible under the former. But! He's still trying to get Yor to trust him - he can't look shady like that. In reality, he does look at her with Loid eyes.

In a way, the manga gives us a more "inner" view, aimed at the audience. The anime shows us what the camera sees, aimed at the characters in-show.

Welcome to my blog. We overanalyze things here.

The supermarket cashier passes on a code to Twilight, and it's back to work with Twilight eyes.

Twilight realizes that his new side mission creates a hurdle to his meeting with Yor. The anime allows a second of animation to show him go from shock to Twilight eyes as he immediately puts a plan together.

(continued in part 2)

(anime only fan here, don't spoil me for the manga)

[clarionglass]

we're back, gang!

all good things should have a bit of malice in them (game master cinematic universe, part 7) | read on ao3

“Sam,” came the tentative voice from a little way down the corridor, and the man in question paused, turning to look at his colleague with a smile. Brian seemed… not quite worried, exactly, but distracted. There was tension in the way he tucked a wisp of hair that had escaped its customary ponytail behind his ear, like he was trying to keep his hands busy while his brain searched for the right words.

“What’s up?”

“I know I’m being manipulated,” Brian said slowly, “but I thought I’d ask anyway. Is there any chance that you’d consider putting the dematerialisation circuit back in Other Sam’s ship? Just for one quick trip?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “No. Not for another few months of good behaviour, at least. Why do you ask?”

Brian sighed. The answer he’d received wasn’t unexpected, but it was a disappointment all the same. “No reason. Just… something silly, that’s all.”

“What did he say to you?” Sam asked, feeling a knot begin to form in his stomach.

“Honestly, it really wasn’t anything to be worried about,” Brian replied quickly. “It wasn’t a threat, or anything like that. It was just…”

He trailed off, looking almost wistful.

Sam frowned. The immediate spike of anxiety that had shot through him had dulled, fading to concern—a gentler emotion, but no more welcome. “Brian, what happened?”

“Well,” Brian started, taking a deep breath.

---

“I saw your episode of Very Important People,” a familiar voice had said behind him in an unfamiliar cadence, and Brian had nearly choked on his water.

“You watch the shows?” he asked in surprise, turning to look Other Sam in the face. The suit the Time Lord had chosen was a nice touch, he thought—the same cut and style as original Sam’s, but red-shifted to a sort of maroon-purple. “More evil,” indeed.

“Oh, you know,” Other Sam shrugged. “Always good to know a little more about who I’m working with. And you’re certainly an interesting one. You figured out the real time loop in Deja Vu before anyone else, did you know that? Well, of course you don’t, you—”

“Don’t remember,” Brian finished with him, allowing a touch of bitterness to intrude into his tone.

“Exactly,” Other Sam said, with a smile like a shark. “But I’ve been keeping an eye on you since then. You’re bright, for a human.”

“Gee, thanks,” Brian replied, letting the easy reach to sarcasm work to disguise the spark of genuine pride the words had kindled.

Other Sam didn’t look at all perturbed. “Take the compliment or don’t, your choice,” he said. “I’m just saying it because you seem to understand a few things better than the others. Like the perks of control.”

“Oh, hah, that was just a character, you know,” Brian blustered. “For the interview.”

“Of course,” Other Sam hummed in agreement. “Nothing at all like you, I take it?”

Brian nodded sharply.

“So you’re saying that if there was a way that I could get you those sorts of cybernetic enhancements, for real,” Other Sam said innocently, “you wouldn’t be interested?”

Try as he might, Brian couldn’t fully prevent the squeak that escaped him, and Other Sam grinned. 

“Maybe not the claw,” he said, “you didn’t seem as dexterous as would be ideal with that one, but the rest of it? That’s more than possible, and in so many different ways. A quick hop to the future, or any number of planets… All I’d need is to be able to use my ship again.”

There it was, the real reason for the offer, and Brian felt the hopes that had been rising in him despite his better judgement suddenly fall flat. Sam had told him what had happened during the ill-fated Sam Says 4 recording, and had revealed as much as he was able to about Deja Vu. He couldn’t give this guy the key out of the imprisonment he’d only just been put in.

He steeled himself and shook his head. “Sorry.”

Other Sam had just sighed delicately. “Suit yourself. I just thought I’d mention it. How noble of you, playing by the rules.”

And then he’d walked off, seeming none too bothered by Brian’s refusal, which was a relief in and of itself. From what he’d heard, he was worried that saying no might put him in actual danger. But no, he’d met with no consequences. All in all, not the worst encounter he could have had with Other Sam, and when he left the building later that day, the confidence he’d made the right decision sat firm in his chest.

But… damn, Other Sam was good.

That evening, Brian couldn’t keep his mind from returning to that faint wisp of a thought. The memory of the euphoria he’d felt when he opened his eyes to see the almost cyborg version of himself in the mirror haunted him in fleeting bursts. And if he was completely honest with himself, the possibility of living in perfect homeostasis, being able to just create without having to stop and take care of the necessary functions of life, was really quite appealing.

Days passed, and as much as he tried to keep his focus on other things, his thoughts kept drifting back to that particular topic. When it was just a bit of prop work for an improvised interview, it was something he could enjoy for the time it lasted, then put down again. But knowing that it was a real possibility… Even as he tried to suppress the idea, it only grew more seductive.

And when just sitting passively with that concept had become too much to bear, genuine transhumanism dangling within sight but just out of reach, he’d gone to find the real Sam. Of course he’d say no. Still… there was always the chance he might say yes, however slim that was. And he wouldn’t know for sure until he asked.

---

The concern in Sam’s eyes was now mingled with sympathy, and as the recipient of that particular look, Brian felt something in his stomach clench.

“It’s fine,” he said hastily. “Don’t worry about it. Just something silly, like I said.”

Sam looked sad as he drew breath to respond.

“Brian, it’s not silly when it clearly brought you so much joy.”

The words were right, the voice was right, the tone was right. But something was still distinctly wrong, and the hair on the back of his neck started to rise. And half a second later, his brain caught up to what his instincts had already realised, because it struck him like a fist in the gut that he hadn’t seen Sam’s mouth move at all. In fact, Sam’s voice had come from the wrong direction entirely.

He whirled to see Other Sam standing at his back, smiling at him with a look that could have been mistaken for genuine support.

“All I want to do is help,” he continued, every fibre of his being radiating sincerity and gentle patience. 

“Sure,” Sam replied with a roll of his eyes. 

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Other Sam said. “I like him. He's smart, and he could almost think like me. With the right prompting, of course.”

Sam tried to suppress the shudder that rolled through him, and nearly succeeded. “You know the deal was hands off the team.”

“Oh, boo,” Other Sam pouted. “I wouldn't have offered if he didn't want it.”

“He's right,�� Brian interjected quietly. 

“Brian—”  Sam started, then paused. His eyes narrowed. “Wait. What's ‘it’, exactly? What's he offered you?”

“Avery Goodman,” Brian said, and Sam nodded in recognition. “All of that. But for real.”

Looking into Brian's face, Sam could see plain as day that trying to dissuade him would be of no use whatsoever. He knew Brian was a smart man, knew that he'd probably considered all the dangers to working with Other Sam, even on something small. But the naked want that shone in Brian's eyes like a beacon burned brightly enough to drown all of that out.

Rather than facing that immediately, he turned to his doppelganger. “It's only been a couple of months, man. You're still very much a flight risk.”

“I know,” Other Sam replied contritely, then cast his gaze around before finally meeting Sam's eyes hesitantly. “But I suppose… Well, we don't have to go offworld for it. I can do a significant number of those procedures myself, as it happens.”

The coyness was very much staged. The way his eyes had lit up before saying that last part, Sam wondered if that hadn't been his double's plan the whole time. 

And implications aside, there were the practical details to consider. “Hang on. You're not doing surgery in my fucking studio!”

A shadow passed across the Master's face. “Not your studio. My TARDIS, and you'd do well to remember that.”

“I don't mind where it happens,” Brian piped up wistfully.

Other Sam placed a hand on his shoulder, the picture of magnanimity. “You see? The gentleman insists. And you've got nothing to be worried about,” he added, turning away from Sam to face Brian properly, and taking a step to propel them both in the direction of the console room. “I was very good at cyber conversion, and it's not something you forget in a hurry.”

“Who said I was worried?” Brian asked. His eyes had been shining since the word “cyber” had been mentioned. 

Sam, on the other hand, had been struck by “conversion”, and the word had left a bad taste in his mouth. “Just wait a minute.”

He pulled out his phone, bringing up the contact he'd been given months before. 

Hi Doctor, it's Sam. Quick question, is “cyber conversion” a good or bad thing? 

“—were right about homeostasis, you won't need to eat, or sleep, or any of those mundane things,” he heard his double say quietly as he waited for a reply. “And there are other pesky things that the procedure takes care of as well—”

His phone pinged.

No way. Sam Reich from Dropout Sam?? Oh my god I'm a massive fan, I was so jealous when the Doctor said he'd met you without me! 

Sam started to frown, confused, when another message appeared. 

Sorry!! Not the Doctor, I'm Ruby, we travel together. I've passed your question on though, and he'll get back to you as soon as we’ve got out of this giant space snail thing. Long story! 

“Are you ratting on me to the Doctor?” Sam's doppelganger asked with a hint of petulant disappointment. “Don't you trust me?”

A third message had popped up, and he opened it before responding. 

Doctor says cyber conversion is no good very bad do not let him do it to anyone, read the clearly hastily-written text. 

“No,” Sam replied. “And for good reason, by the sound of it.”

Other Sam just sighed. 

“I was going to say no to the whole ‘getting rid of my emotions’ bit,” Brian added. “And as much as having an electric blaster arm would be incredibly cool, I don't want that to come at the cost of being stuck in a metal suit for the rest of my life.”

Sam blinked. “Yeah. Not agreeing to all that sounds like a good idea.”

His doppelganger rolled his eyes. “Humans. You people don't know what's good for you.”

“Seems like it's what's good for you, not him,” Sam pointed out. 

“Same thing.”

“It’s really not,” Sam replied. “Look, Brian. What did you want out of this?”

Brian eagerly rattled off a few technical terms that Other Sam must have told him, which Sam tried fruitlessly to transcribe before giving up and asking him to repeat them into a voice memo.

What about these? he sent off to Ruby, with the memo attached. 

Doctor says fine, fine, dubious but okay if your friend agrees to it, and only do that last one under supervision, came the reply.

Okay, I know one of those words means something in the brain, Sam typed out. Please don’t tell me supervision means I have to watch brain surgery. I don’t know anything about brain surgery. And I really don’t want to watch brain surgery. Or any kind of surgery, actually.

The Doctor will do it! We’re nearly out of the snail, just hang on for a mo!

“The Doctor says that, and only that, would be okay,” Sam said slowly. He still wasn’t entirely comfortable with it, if he was being honest, but the shine in Brian’s eyes made it worthwhile.

“Really?” he asked, and Sam nodded.

Other Sam smiled. “Wonderful. We can certainly make that happen.”

“Yeah, yeah, hang on a second,” Sam cut in. “The Doctor said he'll supervise.”

This news was greeted with the look of scorn he expected. “Oh yeah? Is he going to show up? Not likely. He never returns to where he left his mess.”

“Ruby said he would,” Sam shrugged. “Don’t know the how and the why, but she was pretty confident.”

“Ruby?” Brian asked.

“Presumably the latest stray he’s picked up to show off to,” Sam’s doppelganger sniped, his tone heavy with disdain, before Sam himself could get a word in. “She’ll be young. English, probably, or at least British of some description. Ooh, and if she’s blonde, I get an extra point.”

“Couldn’t say,” Sam replied. “We’ve only texted.” 

His double shrugged. “Just you wait. Anyway, Brian,” he said, the contempt dropping from his voice to be replaced by a honeyed gentleness. “Shall we get ready?”

He led Brian through the studio’s corridors, en route to an unremarkable door that was identical to, and somehow even less noticeable than, all the other doors along the way, Sam trailing behind them by a few steps.

He’d already seen inside the console room, back when his doppelganger was trying to make a good impression. Brian, however, had not, and much as Sam was worried by this entire turn of events, he still couldn’t wait to see the look on his friend’s face when he saw the TARDIS properly.

Brian, of course, did not disappoint.

His entire face lit up as Other Sam pushed the door open to reveal a wonderland of otherworldly technology, unrestrained by the confines of what, according to the expected laws of physics, should have been a cupboard-sized room. “No,” he breathed in disbelieving awe, then laughed, a noise of unrestrained, giddy delight. “Oh my god. Oh, my god.”

“Good, isn’t it?” Other Sam said, with no small amount of smugness.

“Good?” Brian repeated, turning in a slow circle to drink it all in. “Holy shit. It’s amazing, I love it!”

Despite his unease, Sam couldn’t help but smile as he watched the display of pure fascination. Even now, even though he was no longer a complete newcomer to the TARDIS, being inside the spacetime machine still felt like pure magic.

His doppelganger tolerated the marvelling for a short while longer, before impatience once again crept into his demeanour. “We’re here for a reason, aren’t we?” he prompted, a distinct bite to his tone. “This way.”

Brian nodded, sufficiently chastened, and with his friend at his side, followed Other Sam deeper into the ship.

“Here,” he announced after a moment. The room he gestured to was bright and sterile, set out like a futuristic operating theatre, and Brian felt his heart rate spike with anticipation as he crossed over the threshold. 

“Should I…?” he asked, motioning to the table in the centre of the room, and Other Sam nodded.

Sam watched as his double set out a bewildering array of medical tools, some familiar, some very not, then paused, examining Brian closely.

“Well, you look ready, and I know I am,” Other Sam said. “So all we need now is for our… supervision… to arrive.”

As if on cue, Sam’s phone lit up with a Whatsapp call.

“Sam!” the Doctor exclaimed, clearly peering around what he was able to see of the room. “And you must be Brian, hello!”

“Hi,” Brian replied, slightly awkward from his prone position on the operating table.

“Sam, babes,” the Doctor started. “Would you be comfortable getting close? I need to be able to see what’s going on properly. Or—ooh, there’s a screen over there, if you just—”

“Fine,” Other Sam sighed, intercepting the request with bad grace and the flick of a switch. 

From the other end of the call, Sam could hear the buzz of the Doctor’s sonic device, and with a squeal of feedback, the video call transferred itself onto the monitor that had just been turned on.

“There we go!” the Doctor grinned, his image blown up to fullscreen view. “Now I can see everything I need to, clear as a bell, and Sam’s got his phone back. And you all can meet Ruby!”

“Hiya,” came a cheerful voice from just offscreen, and a blonde girl—she couldn’t have been more than 20—popped her head into frame and waved. “He’s hijacked my phone, so I get to listen to live medical dramas while I try and get space snail goo off my favourite jacket.”

Sam’s doppelganger shot him a pointed look. “Told you,” he muttered with satisfaction.

Sam ignored him, instead focusing on the Doctor, who had taken back the call. “Brian, I just want to check before you get started on this. You know what these procedures are going to involve? And you fully consent?”

Brian nodded, utterly overwhelmed in the best possible way. “Y-yeah. I do. I consent.”

“Okay,” the Doctor said. “I promise I’ll be keeping a close eye on him through all of this, so nothing will happen outside the limits of what you’ve agreed to, yeah?”

“Okay,” Brian agreed with wide eyes, unable to keep the tremor of excitement out of his voice. It was happening. Oh, god, it was finally happening.

Through the screen, the Doctor and Other Sam shared a look that neither of the humans in the room could quite decipher. But it seemed like some silent agreement had been reached, which was the main thing.

Other Sam picked up something that looked like a scalpel of light, and smiled down at Brian. “Ready?”

“Fuck,” Brian breathed. “Yeah. Ready.”

The Master put down the scalpel and placed his hands on either side of Brian’s face, making direct and unblinking eye contact as he did so. After a second, Brian’s eyelids fluttered shut, and all the tension of consciousness drained from his body. He was out like a light, completely dead to the world.

Hypnotic anaesthesia achieved, the Master flashed a satisfied smirk at Sam, who felt something in his chest go tight. That’s what happened to him the day the Master revealed himself, he realised, a simple little psychic violation that looked so quick and easy, and the air suddenly felt too thick to breathe.

“I’ll wait outside,” he said, and fled to the corridor.

Phone in hand, he spent a while just scrolling through the usual selection of apps to distract himself, time getting sucked into those familiar black holes, before another text from Ruby popped up on the screen. 

I think they’re nearly done!! But just while I’m thinking about it, and this is probably a really weird question so I’m really sorry, but is there an older woman who works at Dropout? English, late 60s, curly hair?

Sam frowned, opening his gallery and thumbing back through months of photos.

Like this? he texted back, attaching a picture from last year’s staff Christmas party. Third from the left at the back is Zan from costuming.

Oh my god. Yeah that’s her.

Sam frowned. Is that okay? I’ve never noticed anything weird about her, she’s actually really lovely.

It’s fine, I think, read the reply. It’s just we’ve been seeing a lot of this woman lately, or people who look identical to her. All in different places, all different, real people, but literally identical. And here she is again. Weird!! But probably nothing for you to be worried about.

That is weird, Sam started to type back, but was distracted by a thin seam of white light that grew wider and wider as the door to the control room opened, and Brian stepped out into the corridor.

That a transformation had occurred was undeniable. To Sam’s surprise, considering the surgery that his friend had undergone, Brian was remarkably unscarred, and the robot arm had been left out of whatever procedures had gone on in that room—but twin points of light peeked above the collar of his shirt, much like the red and yellow LEDs covered by the lab coat he had worn as part of his costume.

“You’re, uh, glowing,” Sam pointed out, realising as he said the words that he was echoing Vic. 

“Oh!” Brian replied. “Hang on, let me turn that down—”

He made a face of intent concentration, and indeed, the lights dimmed and faded altogether. The brightness in his smile, however, didn’t diminish in the slightest.

“Isn’t it brilliant? I’ve got total control, all from up here.”

He tapped his temple, beaming once again as his finger made contact with not flesh, but metal. The most obvious aspect of Brian’s cyborg transformation was the implant that curled around his eye—a near match to the silicone patch that had been glued on for his Avery Goodman costume, but possessed of a certain unarguable realness.

Sam just shook his head, at a loss for words.

“I can hide that, too,” Brian assured him cheerfully. With another look of focus, the air above the metal shimmered and blurred, and in as much time as it took Sam to scratch the sudden itch at the back of his head, it had cleared to reveal smooth, unmarked skin.

“Wow,” was all Sam could say for a moment, before a smile slowly dawned across his face. “Brian… fuck, man. I’m happy for you, genuinely. And I can’t tell you how glad I am that it all worked out.”

Brian beamed.

---

At the console of his grounded TARDIS, lost in thoughts of stolen freedom and schemes that should have been, the Master felt a not unfamiliar sensation at the back of his mind. It was enough to dispel the unhelpful reminiscences, and he smiled, slow and vulpine.

“Do you think it’s bad we didn’t tell him you did this part of it?” he heard, Brian’s voice in his mind as clear as if the other man had been standing in the room with him. “I mean, the Doctor knows, so that’s enough, right?”

“Of course it’s enough,” the Master sent back. “And Sam will find out eventually. But until then, you and I can have some fun.”

—

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x escape the death beam: x

by @bloopdydooooo drawing collection: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): x part four (you think you know someone): x part five (point and counterpoint): x part six (a selection of correspondence): x part seven (all good things should have a bit of malice in them): you are here!

[alxtiny]

Ad Astra per Aspera

Episode 2

Pairing: Pirate!Ateez x Navigator!reader

Genre: pirate!au, fluff, angst, maybe smut

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: blood, death threats, more head injury (yay), swearing, storms (idk)

Notes: sorry for the late update T.T I had to go for a two week long workshop and I didn’t get any time to write but i hope you like this chapter :>

Playlist : the emptiness machine by linkin park | smells like teen spirit by nirvana | thunder by imagine dragons

Series Masterlist | Episode 3 | Episode 1

The next morning was bright and full of promise, but you surely weren’t. You woke up aching despite the surprisingly comfortable bed. The throbbing in your head had returned, though not as intense as before, and you groaned as you sat up, rubbing your temples in a futile attempt to ease the dull pain. “What will it take for me to relax for once?” you muttered under your breath, feeling the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on you.

You dragged yourself to the small basin in the corner of the room, splashing cold water on your face to wake up properly. As the water trickled down your skin, you couldn’t help but yearn for the simple comforts of a home—a soft bed, a toothbrush, clean clothes that weren’t scavenged from a pirate’s stash, it had been way too long to say that you could remember what it all felt like. The ship’s water was salty, leaving an unpleasant taste in your mouth as you rinsed, and it made you miss the fresh, clean water you’d taken for granted.

Just as you were wiping your face dry, a knock echoed from the door, followed by the sound of the lock clicking open. You tensed, still not accustomed to the idea that you were on a pirate ship with little to no privacy. You walked over cautiously and opened the door, revealing the burly looking man from the previous night.

Now that you could see him clearly in the bright morning light, you noticed things you hadn’t before. His face, though rough around the edges, had a certain charm to it—too nice for a pirate, you thought, especially with the way his face stretched wide into a cutesy, dimpled smile. His eyes crinkled at the corners, disappearing into crescents as he grinned down at you. If he weren’t a pirate, you would’ve been tempted to pinch his cheeks and call him cute.

“Good morning, Ms. Navigator,” he greeted cheerfully, his smooth voice carrying an unexpected warmth. “Here’s some clothes for you—a sort of gift of welcome you may say, they’re sent by our captain. Get dressed; he wants to see you in his room.”

Before you could ask anything, he turned on his heel and started walking away, his movements smooth and almost silent, like a cat. You called after him, your voice trailing off awkwardly. “Thank you, but…I don’t even know your name. Who are you?”

He didn’t respond, just kept walking, the only sound being the soft padding of his boots against the wooden floor. You watched him disappear around the corner, wondering how someone so large could move so quietly. It was a little creepy, to say the least.

Sighing, you closed the door and latched it from the inside, turning your attention to the bundle of clothes he’d handed you. They were surprisingly nice—an off-white shirt, brown leather pants, and a loose navy cardigan. The simplicity of the outfit was appealing, yet the stitching and the quality of the fabric hinted at something much more expensive than you’d expected from pirates. The clothes looked almost brand new, and you couldn’t help but wonder how and where they had gotten women’s clothes that fit so perfectly. You wondered if the previous owner had died at their hands or something.

Despite your unease, you put the clothes on, surprised once again at how well they fit. The shirt was soft against your skin, and the leather pants hugged your legs comfortably without being too tight. The cardigan was a nice touch, and clearly whoever chose it had a good sense of fashion. You had to admit, you were impressed, but that only made you more suspicious. There was no way this was a coincidence.

Dressed and somewhat ready, you took a deep breath and prepared yourself for whatever awaited you in the captain’s quarters. The memory of casual way he’d spoken about tossing you into the ocean still lingered in your mind, making your heart race with anxiety. You knew you had to be on your guard, but you also knew that you had to play along if you wanted to survive.

With a final glance at your reflection in the small cracked mirror by the bed, you straighten your posture and braced yourself for what was to come. The captain wanted to see you, and you had no choice but to face him—whatever that might entail.

You walked out and saw the tall man waiting for you outside. He reminded you of a beanpole at first but seeing him now made your heart flutter for a moment. His eyes were closed, his head tilted up to the sky as if savouring the warmth of the sun. The golden light fell on his face, highlighting the gentle curve of his nose and the soft shape of his lips. It struck you as odd—how all these pirates were so handsome, each one with features that seemed better suited to a noble’s court than a pirate ship. His relaxed demeanour and perpetual smile made you wonder what had him so amused all the time, and how he managed to maintain such a cheerful facade in a life filled with such horrors and chaos.

You cleared your throat, breaking the silence, and awkwardly muttered, “Uh..morning.”

Without opening his eyes, he responded in his usual bright tone, “Ah, I see you haven’t tried to kill yourself yet.”

You raised an eyebrow at his comment, and despite yourself, you couldn’t help but reply with a hint of sarcasm. “Even if I did, your captain would probably force me back to life just so he could kill me himself.”

He chuckled at that, a genuine laugh that seemed to fill the corridor with warmth. Slowly, he opened his eyes and turned to face you, his expression softening with amusement. With an exaggerated flourish, he bowed deeply. “Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm with an air of mock chivalry.

You rolled your eyes and swatted his arm away, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth despite your best efforts to remain serious. “Lead the way,” you said, shaking your head at his antics.

He straightened up, still grinning, and turned to lead you down the corridor. As you followed him, you noticed that his cheerful demeanour didn’t seem forced; it was as if he genuinely found joy in every little thing, a trait you couldn’t quite understand. Life on a pirate ship didn’t exactly lend itself to happiness, yet here he was, acting as if he didn’t have a care in the world. You had decided, this man was definitely a puppy in his past life, perhaps a golden retriever.

As you walked, the sounds of the ship began to filter through the wooden walls—the creaking of the hull, the distant shouts of men working above deck, the rhythmic slapping of waves against the hull. You tried to keep your thoughts focused on the task at hand, but the more you walked, the more your mind wandered back to the captain. There was something that seemed off about him, and those stupid sunglasses he wore even in the darkest of rooms annoyed you. You weren’t sure what kind of man you were dealing with, and that uncertainty tormented you.

Your guide, seemingly sensing your tension, kept up a steady stream of chatter as you walked. “You know, the captain’s not so bad once you get to know him,” he said, glancing back at you with a wink. “Sure, he’s a bit…intense, but he’s fair. He doesn’t waste good talent, and from what I’ve heard, you’ve got plenty of that.”

You scoffed lightly. “I’m a navigator, not a pirate, and where could you have possibly heard about me, for all you know I might be lying.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong,” he said with a grin, completely ignoring the second part. “On this ship, we’re all pirates. Whether you like it or not, you’re part of the crew now. But don’t worry,” he added quickly, seeing the flash of alarm on your face. “We’re not all bad. Some of us are even quite charming, wouldn’t you say?”

You gave him a sidelong glance. “Is that your way of telling me to trust you?”

He shrugged, his grin widening. “Trust is earned, not given. But I like to think I’m off to a good start.”

Before you could respond, he stopped in front of a familiar door—the one you recognized as the captain’s quarters. The cheery man turned to you, his playful expression softening slightly. “Don’t worry,” he said quietly. “The captain might be intimidating, but he’s not unreasonable. Just don’t lie…he doesn’t like that.”

You nodded, though your heart was pounding in your chest. The man knocked on the door, then opened it, gesturing for you to step inside. You took a deep breath, composing yourself, and walked through the doorway, feeling the shroud of the heavy atmosphere settle around you. As the door closed behind you, you were once again alone with the captain, who stood by the large window, the morning sun casting long shadows across the room. It must be his respawn point, you thought to yourself.

He turned slowly, that same unsettling smile pulling at his lips, and you felt an involuntary shiver run down your spine. “Good morning, navigator,” he said, his voice feeling sickly sweet at that moment. “Let’s see what you’re really made of, shall we?” Without waiting for a response, he continued, “Come with me. We must make haste; there’s no time to waste. We need to reach the Northern Aurora Islands within the next three days.”

His sudden urgency surprised you. He walked to the door, pausing just before opening it. “I hope you realise,” he said, his tone low and threatening, “that your position here is as good as temporary. If you put me or my crew in unwarranted danger, you will find yourself meeting your maker sooner than expected.” He let the threat linger in the air for a moment before adding, “And of course, any information we discuss in private stays between us. If I hear a word of it from anyone not involved…” He trailed off, the unspoken consequences clear in his dark look .

He opened the door and gestured for you to go ahead, his eyebrow arched in expectation. With a deep breath, you stepped out into the corridor, feeling his gaze burn into your back as he followed. The two of you made your way up onto the main deck, the bright sunlight forcing you to squint. You noticed that the captain had never once removed his sunglasses. You were tempted to ask about them but thought better of it when you saw the serious, impatient look on his face. Instead, you asked the more pressing question. “Where exactly are we now?”

He glanced at you briefly, his expression unreadable. “You were taken from the slaver ship three days ago, near the Light Marshes. We’re nearing the Dark Marshes now.”

His words made your stomach drop. “I was out for two days?” you exclaimed, horrified.

He chuckled, a sound that sent a chill down your spine. “Yes, we reckoned you might not wake up at all.”

You looked at him, mortified by how casually he joked about your near-death experience. But before you could say anything else, you reached a large door at the end of a corridor. The captain pushed it open, revealing a spacious room that seemed to be some sort of meeting chamber. A large table occupied the centre, its surface scattered with maps, compasses, and various instruments—some of which you had never seen before. Your curiosity piqued instantly, your fingers itching to touch the cool metal and figure out the purpose of each tool.

But before you could act on your impulses, the captain’s hand gripped your shoulders roughly, steering you toward the table. “Sit,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. You obeyed, trying to calm the sudden rush of panic that surged through you when he walked back to the door, closing and locking it with a decisive click. Your flight or fight, mostly flight, instincts were thundering. The sound echoed in the room, setting your nerves on edge.

You took a deep breath, trying to focus on the task at hand. But your mind was racing with questions—the highlighted question among them being the identity of these men. “Excuse me,” you stuttered, your voice trembling slightly. “May I at least know who you are?”

The captain turned back toward you, his usual grin spreading across his face as he walked closer. “Are you familiar with the name ATEEZ?” he asked, his tone laced with amusement.

The name sent a cold chill down your spine. Of course, you knew of them. ATEEZ is infamous, a name that struck fear into the hearts of the most seasoned of sailors and even the marines.They had surfaced around six years ago and quickly built up a reputation as the most feared and ruthless pirates in all the seas. The tales of their exploits were legendary—and terrifying. Your eyes widened in horror as you processed the realisation, your voice barely a whisper as you tried to confirm, “Is that really you?”

The captain laughed aloud filling the room. “Yes, indeed,” he said, performing a mocking bow. “Captain Kim Hongjoong, at your service.”

You stared at him, your mouth hanging open in shock, unable to form any coherent response. The horror on your face seemed to amuse him even more, and he was about to say something else when another voice suddenly cut through the tension.

“I’m Yunho!” The cheerful voice was jarring, completely out of place in the heavy atmosphere of the room. You turned toward the sound, your eyes landing on the tall man who had been with you earlier. He was standing in the corner of the room, a wide grin on his face, hands on his hips as he proudly declared, “Jeong Yunho, ship’s engineer!”, he had apparently materialised out of nowhere.

You blinked slowly, your brain struggling to keep up with the situation. Before you could fully process what was happening, you let out a scream, which was quickly muffled by Hongjoong’s hand clamping down over your mouth. “Shh,” he hissed, his face dangerously close to yours. “Calm down, or people might get the wrong idea.”

You nodded frantically, and he slowly removed his hand. You took a deep breath, your heart pounding as you turned your wide-eyed gaze back to Yunho. “Where the hell did you come from?” you whisper-yelled, your voice shaking.

Yunho chuckled, completely unfazed. “Oh, I was always here. You just didn’t notice me. I was fixing up some tools and stuff. Like I said, I’m the engineer.”

You looked at him in disbelief, finally noticing the welding goggles perched atop his head and the smears of grease and paint on his cheeks. “You could have at least told me you were there!” you snapped. “Made your presence known, maybe?”

He just laughed again, the sound light and carefree, as if you weren’t in the middle of the most terrifying situation of your life. Before you could say anything else, Hongjoong cleared his throat impatiently, cutting off Yunho’s laughter and drawing your attention back to him. His expression was serious once more, and the playful banter evaporated from the room.

“Let’s move on now, shall we?” he said, his tone sharp, silencing the room as you steered yourself towards whatever task awaited you.

He crossed his arms, his sunglasses reflecting the faint light filtering through the room’s small window. “As I said, the Northern Aurora Islands are where we must be in the next three days. There is a man I need to see regarding certain… business. Your task right now is to find the safest and quickest route. Even a day late, and I might miss the deadline.” His voice was low, you could barely catch the latter of what he said.

Your expression grew serious as you switched to professional mode. “The Swartz Peninsula could pose a problem around this time,” you began, examining the maps before you. “The marines usually like to patrol that area, especially with the merchant ships docked for the off-season. We need to find a better way out.” You paused, debating whether to ask the next question or not, but decided to take a chance. “May I ask who this man you’re meeting is? And what’s the deal with the deadline?”

Hongjoong’s pointed gaze flicked to you, his expression hardening. “Those details do not concern you… yet.” The emphasis on the word ‘yet’ was a clear warning. You opened your mouth to argue but quickly shut it, realising it wasn’t worth agitating him.

He nodded slightly, acknowledging your silence. “You’re correct about the peninsula, but that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To solve these kinds of issues.” There was a rising edge to his voice, a simmering anger just beneath the surface. He didn’t have much in the patience department you figured.

“Yes, sir. I’ll get to work right away,” you replied quickly, sensing the urgency.

“Alright then. I’ll leave you to it,” he said, turning towards the door. “We’ll meet again in the evening. If I don’t see significant progress… well, you already know what could happen.” His words were threateningly calm. He glanced over at Yunho. “Yunho, you’re to assist her today since you have nothing better to do anyway.”

Yunho groaned loudly. “Wait a minute! Who said I didn’t? Hyung, you can’t leave me here with her,” his previously cheerful demeanour shifted into frustration. It was the first time you had seen him express an emotion that wasn’t sheer happiness, and you had to be the reason for it.

But Hongjoong ignored his protests and continued toward the door. Yunho followed behind like a lost puppy, his face pleading. Before Yunho could argue further, the captain quickly opened the door and then slammed it shut in Yunho's face, leaving no space for negotiation.

Yunho sighed dramatically, dragging his long legs and pulling up a chair beside you. He plopped down with a loud huff, his shoulders slumping forward as he grabbed a random map from the table and started unfurling and furling it with clear boredom.

“What is wrong with working with me?” you asked, slightly offended by his clear reluctance. “I’m such a nice person. You should be honoured if anything.”

Yunho turned to you with a deadpan look. “Let’s just get this over with. Studying maps isn’t exactly how I imagined spending my day today,” he muttered, tossing the map he had been playing with back onto the table and leaning over your shoulder to see what you were doing.

You scoffed, deciding to be the bigger person and ignore his comment. You grabbed a pencil and began making notes along the margins of the map, your mind already mulling over the possible routes, calculating distances, and marking areas of potential dangers. The hum of the ship’s machinery and the distant calls of seagulls filled the silence between you.

Yunho shifted in his chair, tapping his foot against the floor, very clearly uncomfortable with the silence. He watched you for a moment, his head tilted to the side, before speaking up. “You really know what you’re doing, huh?” His tone was almost begrudgingly impressed.

You didn’t look up from your work. “Of course. I’ve been doing this a long time. And besides, if I don’t do a good job, your dear captain might just make me fish fodder, and it's too bright of a day to swim with the sharks.”

Yunho chuckled softly, his expressions lightening up a little. “Yeah, he’s not big on second chances,” he admitted. Then, leaning closer, he whispered conspiratorially, “But between you and me, you’ve got a better chance than most. He wouldn’t have spared you for even a second if he didn’t think you were useful.”

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

He grinned. “Maybe.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help a small smile from tugging at your lips. There was something about Yunho’s casual attitude that was oddly comforting. “Alright, if you’re so bored, why don’t you make yourself useful and get me an estimate on the weather conditions?” you suggested, gesturing to a stack of weather charts on the side of the table. “We need to know if we’re going to have to face any storms or unfavourable winds.”

Yunho’s face lit up slightly at the idea of having something to do, even if it was not ideal. “Aye, aye, navigator,” he said with a mock salute, grabbing the charts and flipping through them.

As you continued to study the maps, making annotations and considering various routes, you found yourself feeling a little lighter. Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be as unbearable as you thought.

Hours passed as you meticulously combed through various maps and charts. The sun was already making its way towards the west, casting streams of golden light across the room. You remained focused on your task, occasionally glancing up as Yunho wandered around, fiddling with various instruments, and scribbling random notes on rough paper. Despite his earlier complaints, he would sometimes offer surprisingly useful snippets of information about the ship’s capabilities — like its 54-knot speed and the height of its masts and stuff related to air pressure.

But soon, his restlessness began to influence your own mind. You could feel the fatigue weighing down your eyelids, words had started to swim in front of your eyes. At least you had managed to outline a few potential routes. All that remained was the daunting task of presenting your findings to the captain. Hongjoong still unnerved you, but you were becoming used to his constant threats.

Deciding to rest a bit, you leaned back in your chair, glancing over at Yunho, who seemed deeply engrossed in dismantling a peculiar-looking box. He probably wouldn’t mind if you closed your eyes for a moment. You leaned your head back, let your eyelids flutter shut, and welcomed the warm blanket settling over your thoughts.

Just as sleep was about to sweep you away, a loud bang jolted you awake. The door to the room had been flung open with such force that it slammed against the wall, rebounding with a sharp creak, causing you to startle and lose your balance. You fell from your chair, landing hard on your side with a groan. Blinking in surprise, you looked up to see a man standing in the doorway, his appearance dishevelled, his hair blown out at odd angles, and parts of his clothing drenched in seawater.

It was the same man who had suggested selling you off the night before. A flash of anger surged through you as you side-eyed him furiously, but he seemed completely oblivious to your presence. He turned his attention straight to Yunho, his voice urgent and strained.

“Storm flashes,” he panted, catching his breath and putting his hands on his knees. “They shouldn’t be happening right now, but Captain wants you and the navigator. We need to secure the ship. The waters are unpredictable, and we haven’t even hit the big one yet. The lower masts are already wavering,” he pointed behind him.

Your anger melded into confusion and then horror. You had read about storm flashes — violent bursts of wind and icy rain, accompanied by deafening thunder and blinding lightning. The rain felt like tiny blades cutting open your skin, and the wind could be so strong that it could pick people up and blow them away. Though you had never experienced one firsthand, the descriptions you had read were enough to fill you with a sense of dread.

Yunho's face had lost its usual playful expression, replaced with one of concern. He shot up from his place on the floor and nodded sharply. "We don’t have much time,” he muttered before glancing back at you. “You heard him. Let’s go.”

You scrambled to your feet, you were afraid, you couldn’t just die after enduring so much pain and not finishing what was started. You were on a pirate ship in the middle of dangerous waters, and now you were about to face a deadly storm, surely you would make it, just like the other times. Unfortunately, there was no time to dwell on your fears. You nodded, brushing off your clothes, and hurrying after Yunho.

The man at the door, who seemed to have been partially soaked by the storm’s initial onslaught, looked back at you with a calculative gaze, as if he was checking how useful you’d be, before moving out of your way. “Stay close and follow instructions,” he snapped, his voice hard. “We can’t afford mistakes right now.”

You followed Yunho up to the main deck, your heart racing with every step. The wind outside had already begun to pick up, the pressure dropping, and the skies were a deep, foreboding grey. The ship creaked and groaned under the strain of the rising waves, and the air was thick with the smell of salt and you could almost taste the electricity in the air.

Crew members moved frantically around the deck, securing ropes, fastening cargo, and shouting instructions to each other over the deafening roar of the wind. You could see Captain Hongjoong standing near the helm, his face calm but focused, barking orders at his crew.

“Get those sails down! Prepare for the storm flashes!” he yelled. His voice, though firm, seemed almost calm in the face of the chaos, as if he’d done this all before, which he probably must have. He turned his head, spotting you and Yunho. “Navigator, up here!” he called, waving you over to the helm.

You made your way toward him, gripping the railings tightly to keep from being blown off balance by the gusts of wind. Yunho was right behind you, still keeping his eye on parts of the ship that might need securing.

When you reached Hongjoong, he didn’t waste a second. “We need to find shelter, fast. The storm flashes are already upon us, and we haven’t even touched the big one yet. Can we make it past the Swartz Peninsula, or do we need to find another way?” he shouted, his voice barely audible over the wind.

You glanced at the map you had been holding tightly in your hand. Your mind raced as you quickly calculated distances and potential obstacles. “We can try to cut around the peninsula, but it’ll be risky,” you shouted back. “If we can’t make it past before the storm intensifies, we’ll be caught in the worst of it.”

Hongjoong nodded, considering your words carefully. “Then we have no choice but to risk it. Yunho, get down to the engine room and make sure everything is secured. If the engines fail, we’re as good as dead, and raise the reinforcements.”

Yunho nodded and turned to leave, but not before giving you a quick, reassuring smile. “Don’t worry,” he said softly. “We’ll get through this.”

You nodded back, gripping the edge of the helm as the first flashes of lightning illuminated the darkened skies. The ship lurched forward, fighting the rising waves, and your mind raced through every bit of knowledge you had about this treacherous part of the sea. You closed your eyes, mind going faster than light, trying to figure out something- anything that could help. Then it clicked, your eyes shot open.

There was a little passage along the peninsula that most sailors didn’t know about — but you did. Your teacher had spoken of it with a certain fondness, referring to it as one of "her places." She had told you about several of these spots, hidden pathways and secret routes that she seemed to treasure. You never quite understood why she called them hers; she didn’t own them, and it wasn’t as if she had discovered them, but there was always a special gleam in her eyes when she spoke of them.

After she passed, these places remained a mystery, an unfinished guide left behind for you to complete. When you started taking odd jobs as a navigator for small merchant ships, you began to test her secrets. You soon realised that no one seemed to know of these pathways — they weren’t on any maps, and even the most seasoned sailors seemed oblivious to their existence. They were often the easiest routes, bypassing dangerous reefs or cutting through the most anarchic parts of the sea. You kept this knowledge to yourself, claiming that you had stumbled upon them by accident, and surprisingly, no one ever questioned it. Over time, they forgot about these secret ways altogether. But you hadn’t.

And now, one of those secret routes could save all of your lives. This passage was exactly what you needed: a sea cave that ran beneath the peninsula from one end to the other. The best part was its entrance — a narrow opening concealed by a wall of sea stumps, jagged rocks that jutted out from the water and looked like an extension of the land itself. From a distance, it seemed like an impassable barrier, and most sailors wouldn’t even think to venture closer. The only way to reach the cave's entrance was through a slim strip of water, just wide enough for a single ship to slip through. You had only passed through it once before, on a much smaller vessel, and even then, it had been tight.

You glanced back at Hongjoong, who was gripping the wheel with focused determination. The wind whipped his hair around his face, and his eyes, still hidden behind those dark sunglasses, seemed to pierce through the storm ahead. "There might be another way," you yelled, trying to make your voice heard over the howling wind. "There's a passage, a sea cave that cuts right through the peninsula. If we can find the entrance, we can make it through to the other side."

Hongjoong looked at you, his expression incredulous. "A sea cave?" he repeated, his voice half-drowned by the noise of the storm. "And you’re sure it’s real? Not just some sailor’s tale?"

“It’s real,” you insisted. “My teacher told me about it. I’ve used it before. But it’s tricky — the entrance is hidden, and the waters around it are narrow. We have to be precise.”

He studied you for a moment longer, then nodded. “Show me where,” he ordered. You quickly unfurled the map, your fingers tracing along the contours of the peninsula, then pointing to a spot where the line of the land met the sea.

“Here,” you said. “It’s hidden by sea stumps, but there’s a passage through them. If we keep our heading slightly to the east, we should see them soon. The opening will be small, but we have to get through before the storm closes in completely.”

Hongjoong nodded sharply, his jaw tight. “Alright,” he called out to the crew, “adjust the sails! Bring us slightly eastward — keep a sharp eye out for jutting rocks.”

The crew moved quickly to follow his orders, and the ship began to veer slightly to the right. You could feel the sparks in the air, and tension thicker than the storm clouds above. The wind howled louder, and the first drops of rain began to fall, cold and sharp against your skin. You felt sharp crystals of ice scratch your skin. You winced, touching your cheek and feeling the smallest droplets of blood.

Yunho returned from below deck, his face serious. "Engines are secure, but we’re running hot," he reported to Hongjoong. “We don’t have much time.”

“We don’t need time,” Hongjoong shot back, his eyes fixed ahead, for the second time you saw his sunglasses off of his face, and the grey of his eyes fought against the stormy clouds with equal persistence. “We just need luck.”

You leaned forward, squinting through the rain, searching for any sign of the sea stumps. The waves were growing more violent, the ship pitching up and down with increasing force. Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the water for a brief moment. And then, you saw them — dark shapes protruding from the sea, just where you expected them to be.

“There!” you shouted, pointing. “There’s the entrance!”

Hongjoong steered the ship toward the stumps, navigating carefully through the narrow waters. The crew held their breath as the ship drew closer to the hidden opening. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your fingers gripping the edge of the helm so tightly your knuckles turned white.

The ship inched forward, titling dangerously and straightening back up, the waves slapping against the hull with a deafening roar. You looked at Hongjoong, veins in his neck protruding from the strain of it all. The narrow strip of water seemed impossibly tight, but the ship kept moving, squeezing through with painstaking slowness. You held your breath, praying silently that you had made the right call, that the cave was deep enough for a ship this size.

And then, with a final heave, the ship slipped through the opening and into the mouth of the sea cave. The walls of the cave rose up around you, sheltering you from the wind and rain. The noise of the storm outside seemed to soften, though the roar of the water echoed loudly against the stone.

For a moment, there was only the sound of your breathing, the creak of the ship, and the steady drip of water from the cave ceiling. You had made it — for now, at least.

Hongjoong turned to you, a rare grin breaking across his face. "Not bad," he said, his voice echoing off the cave walls. "Now let’s see if we can get through the rest of it alive."

Without missing a beat, he raised his voice to command the crew. “Wooyoung, assess overall damage while we still have light!” he yelled at the man stationed at the lookout post. “Yunho, get on with the minor fixes. Take Mingi and San if you need help.”

You wondered briefly, who the other men were, breaking from your thoughts on hearing a chorus of “Aye, Captain!” behind you. The deck was suddenly alive with a flurry of movement, ropes being secured, and tools being fetched.

"Move aside, miss," a soft voice spoke over your shoulder, startling you. You turned and found yourself face to face with a tall man who looked like he had been resurrected from a shipwreck — dark circles under his eyes and a pallor that suggested he hadn’t slept in days.

"Ahh, who the fuck are you?" you exclaimed impulsively, unable to mask your surprise.

The man remained unfazed. "Park Seonghwa," he replied evenly. "Quartermaster and occasional helmsman, which is what I must do right now if you’d so kindly give me some space."

You blinked, momentarily thrown by his calm manner, before stepping back to allow him access to the helm. He slid smoothly into position beside the captain, his hands deftly taking control of the wheel. Hongjoong moved away, satisfied, and motioned for you to follow him.

You broke away from the spot where you were frozen in place, trailing behind him as he made his way to a small covered area behind the main mast. The rain was still pounding down outside the cave, but inside, it felt almost eerily calm.

"You have proved your worth, Miss Navigator," Hongjoong began, his voice low and thoughtful. "I’d like to keep you around since you are of use. Not that you have a choice, of course." He paused, looking you over with that keen gaze of his. "This is not where our journey ends. According to you, our estimated time of arrival should be…?”

You thought for a moment, running the calculations quickly in your head. “Approximately nine hours until we leave the cave, and then another day or so to reach the eastern port towns of the Northern Aurora Islands.”

He nodded, seeming pleased with your response. “Yes, that’s good. We’re much ahead of schedule, which I must say I appreciate. It means we have time to do just one more thing, which I will brief you on once we’re on the other side. Until then, you can rest or do whatever you need — maybe get your head bandaged again; it seems like the wound has reopened.”

His fingers lightly touched your chin, tilting your face so he could inspect the injury. For a brief second, the world seemed to narrow down to the space between you and him. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his thumb brushing the edge of the bandage. The moment felt oddly intimate, a flicker of something almost like concern crossing his eyes before he released you.

The second his fingers left your skin, the throbbing in your head returned wanting nothing but revenge. You winced, realising he was right — the wound had indeed reopened. You sighed, resigned to another trip to see the doctor. At least, you thought, the prospect of visiting the surprisingly gentle physician wasn’t so bad. It even made you feel a tiny bit happier.

You nodded at Hongjoong, bidding him a quiet goodnight. “I’ll get it checked out,” you promised, relieved to have some time to rest before he decided to thrust another herculean task upon you.

Hongjoong gave a small, satisfied nod. "Good. We’ll reconvene after we’ve made it to the other side," he said, his expression returning to its usual seriousness. "Rest while you can."

As you made your way below deck, the noise of the crew bustling around, repairing the minor damages and securing the ship, faded into the background. You felt a strange mix of exhaustion and relief settling in.

You found your way back to the makeshift infirmary, knocking lightly before entering. The familiar sight of the doctor — with his soft, steady hands and kind eyes — was a pleasant sight after what you just went through.

"Back again so soon?" he asked with a gentle smile, not phased by the events that transpired outside, his eyes flicking to the reopened wound on your head.

You managed a tired smile in return. "Seems like I just can’t stay out of trouble," you replied.

He chuckled softly, motioning for you to sit down. "Let’s get you patched up again, shall we? I’m starting to think you might be enjoying my company a little too much."

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, finally allowing yourself to loosen up for the first time in hours. “Of course, you’re currently my favourite person—apart from the part where you agreed to throw me off the ship. That was not cool."

He pouted in defence, looking genuinely affronted. “Hey! I never said that. I just said I didn’t revive you just for you to get killed anyway. It took a lot of work, you know!”

You laughed harder at his expression, amused at how his serious attitude melted into a childish pout. "Fine, fine, I’ll let it slide,” you teased, only to yelp softly when he lightly smacked your shoulder. “Sit still and let me work,” he scolded, but there was a teasing lilt in his voice that made it hard to take him seriously.

You apologised, still trying to stifle your laughter, and as the conversation fizzled out into a comfortable silence, you felt the tension ebb away out of your body. His hands were steady, the familiar scent of herbs and clean linen filling the air as he patched you up again. You closed your eyes, the soreness slowly slipped away, as his magic worked wonders on your injury. By the time he finished, the pain had pretty much vanished.

"Thanks," you mumbled, your voice heavy with the sleep that was already threatening to pull you under. A yawn escaped before you could hold it back, and when you blinked your eyes open again, you found Yeosang staring at you intently, a strange emotion flickering in his dark eyes—something that you couldn’t understand yet.

He quickly blinked and turned away, busying himself with packing up his supplies. When he helped you stand, there was a soft smile on his lips, though his eyes avoided yours. Without a word, he walked you to the door. “Goodnight,” he said gently as you stepped out, his voice as soft as the smile still lingering on his face.

But just before he could close the door, you hesitated. "Wait," you called, making him pause. He raised an eyebrow at you. "You never told me your name."

His eyes widened slightly as if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Then, his expression softened, eyes crinkling at the corners as his lips stretched into a smile. "Kang Yeosang," he replied, his voice gentle. “How very nice to meet you.”

You smiled back, the name rolling around in your head. “Hmm… Yeosang,” you tested, a soft giggle escaping your lips. “A pretty name fit for a pretty boy.”

For a moment, Yeosang stood frozen, eyes wide as if he didn’t quite process what you’d said. “Y-you think I’m pretty?” he stammered, his cool, calm facade cracking.

The realisation of what you’d just said hit you like a tidal wave, and your cheeks immediately flushed crimson. "Goodnight!" you blurted in a panic, not waiting for his response as you quickly turned on your heel and rushed down the hallway, your heart thundering in your chest.

Behind you, you could hear Yeosang chuckle softly at your antics, but you didn’t dare look back. You practically ran into your room, slamming the door shut behind you. Pressing your cold hands against your burning cheeks, you tried to calm yourself down, heart still racing. Had you really just called a pirate—*that* pirate—pretty? What was wrong with you?

You flopped onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling in disbelief as the events of the day replayed in your mind. You had somehow managed to make it through a storm, navigated through a secret passage, and now… you’d gone and flirted with the ship’s doctor. Just amazing.

Despite your embarrassment, a small smile tugged at your lips as you thought of Yeosang's flustered reaction, it was kind of cute. You still slapped your cheeks to remove these thoughts from your brain.

Slowly, exhaustion caught up to you, and your racing thoughts began to fade. You drifted off to sleep, your heart finally calming.

© alxtiny . Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my works on any platform in any way.

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DISCLAIMER: THIS IS PURE FICTION AND NOT RELATED TO THE MEMBERS OF ATEEZ IN REAL LIFE PLEASE DO NOT TAKE IT SERIOUSLY

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[abstractfrog]

HI I JUST SAW YOUR INCREDIBLE SHERLOCK AND CO COMIC YOU MADE AND I WOULD LOVE FOR YOU TO TALK ABOUT THE PROCESS AND THE SYMBOLISM AND INTRICACIES AND EVERYTHING PLEASE ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

GOD THANK U ok if i actually talked about EVERYTHING i would be here forever and ever, there were things about the process where it kept surprising me and i kept adding stuff.

I talk about my general comic process here , it started out mostly the same for this one. Analysis of the script, sketches, panel and colour blocking

The scene from Mr Sherlock Holmes presented me with a unique challenge (for me) because...usually I pick scenes from the podcast that are instantly visually stimulating. This scene is NOT that. It's sort of unclear and confusing and even the emotive narrative is sort of hard to pick out. Those things I had to sort of decide for myself. It's hard to draw a whole scene like this without first deciding what the scene is about, what its purpose is. If you go back and listen to the episode along with the comic you'll notice all sorts of changes and tonal shifts - that's because of me and my decision making.

I decided that the direction I wanted to go in was to show John having his realization about himself, his podcast, and Sherlock, showing him getting pulled into, yes, Sherlock's world, but also the world of the podcast as an adaptation. I knew i could do this just with colour, but if you've seen my other comics, you know i almost always use colour to show shifts. I guess I had some insecurity about doing the same thing over and over again so I pushed myself to think of other ways I could accomplish it visual. Enter: rendering technique

I will say I didn't expect this effect to make John seem so SAD and MISERABLE, i only wanted to show him getting pulled in, but its effective for his emotions in this scene as well. Scanning drawings into the computer sort of flattens the paper texture, so I started adding photos of the pages of A Study in Scarlet to make him feel more paper-y. And then, of course, realised i could use that to further elaborate on John's inner thoughts, backgrounds, and motivations. People are welcome to interpreted that how they like and i've seen a number of variations, but to me it operates on sort of a meta level, showing the inevitability of what John is going through. He's a Watson, he's always going to follow Holmes, he's going to try and figure him out, and that's why you sort of see a back and forth between acd and pod Watson, highlighting the ways in which they are similar, and then, John breaks off and becomes his own character, still with those foundations but also entirely different.

there's one piece of text that i haven't seen anyone pick up on or mention and I'm starting to think it's gone unnoticed because it's in an unexpected spot. I won't mention what or where because it is, for now, a very indulgent little secret.

I notice a lot of people are getting a kick out of Sherlock playing with the speech bubbles, which I am so pleased by because I almost didn't do it! I thought i was maybe breaking something in the comic but it was so fun that i didn't care and I'm so glad it came across well. It operates on a lot of levels, it shows his thought process, it plays into that fourth-wall medium play i've got going on, and it feeds into the web metaphor as well as visually showing him roping John in.

on the topic of Sherlock, I feel a lot of people are rather focused on John, which is understandable (he's the main event) but Sherlock has a lot of details I love too.

For instance, him pushing his hair back and putting on a coat when the officer arrives, almost like he's shifted modes, and then his hair falling back down when he gets excited and John starts to understand.

I really love this moment of Sherlock seeing John's potential for interest in mysteries when he's trying to solve the matter of what Sherlock Does, and being surprised and flattered for a moment (until John messes it up again)

John copying Sherlock's pose <3

There's deliberate things in the character design as well, things like the fact that once John comes into colour, it reveals that he's actually wearing more colour than anyone else in the scene, and the fact that the grey in John's hair only appears post-greyscale. Things you are welcome to read into. And there are, of course, the socks, which I've seen people pick up on.

Those are the main things for now so i might leave it there, but thank you so much for your ask and i'd be pleased to elaborate further on absolutely anything!

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

The fun continues with three currently airing gems, a new show entering the fray, and an animated story so good I am reading a manga to keep up with it. Four of these are on Gaga and one is coming to us via fan sub. Jump on in to the weekly watch, we're having so much fun and not feeling at all overwhelmed by the deluge of amazing content! *chuckles nervously*

Takara's Treasure

I continue to love this quiet little show. This week I desperately wanted someone, anyone, to answer Taishin's earnest questions. He is doing his best to figure this out but no one is helping him! I like that despite wanting him to figure out his feelings for himself, Takara continues to reach out to Taishin to let him know his attention is welcome. This week we also met Emiri, an instant fav who taught Taishin all about stanning. I appreciate that this show joined other recent jbls in making a clear distinction between being a stan and being in love. Real love is not fanaticism, and the former is what Takara seems to want from Taishin--once he's ready.

I Hear the Sunspot

Ugh this show just gets me right in the heart. As I hoped, we got to sit with Taichi this episode as he worked through his confusion and worry about Kohei. It makes sense for Kohei to back off in the wake of his ignored confession, and it also makes sense that Taichi didn't hear him (metaphorically). And even after having it repeated in a way he can't misunderstand, he still doesn't know what to do with it. He just knows he likes Kohei and wants to be around him, and he seems okay with just leaving it at that for now. I loved, too, that we got to spend time with Kohei as he's coping with his worsening condition and get to know his mother, who is a delightful person who loves Taichi just as much as her son does. I'm so glad we are getting to see this story told properly in full in such a great adaptation.

Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko

Finally, the truth!!! Ayaka is a menace and Hiroko is fighting for her life. Like hanging out with a niece, my ass! Most of the office misinterpreting Ayaka's behavior as crushing on Yuya instead of Hiroko continues to be hilarious, as are all Hiroko's friends trying to push her to cross the line. I was sad to learn that Risa has her own unrequited love going on; I want all the girls to end this story happily! I did love their conversation about identity, and that the show gave some space for Ayaka to consider whether lesbian is the right label for her. Checking out the lesbian bar together was a great way to test things out, and I was dying at the other girls hitting on Ayaka. Can't wait to see what happens next now that Hiroko has no more denial to cling to.

Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding

Shoutout to @isaksbestpillow for picking this show up, because it’s an instant fav! Ishida and Mitsuya are fantastic characters, and man are they GAY. This is a food drama and a story of queer men of different generations seeing something unexpected in each other and forming a surprising bond. I was pleasantly surprised by how immediately the attraction and sexual tension arrived in this story, and I want to know so much more about Mitsuya and why he seems to be holding a desperate sadness alongside all his wisdom about life. Very excited to see these two nourish each other. You can find Sirii’s subs here.

Twilight Out of Focus

I don't watch anime (do not @ me, many have tried), but @bengiyo liked the story for this one enough that he told me I can’t skip it, so I am reading the manga along with the show. And I gotta say, I loved this first story with Mao and Hisashi (this is a multi couple series so not sure how the next one will go). Ben is on vacay so I'm tagging @twig-tea to talk about the episode that aired this week.

[yet-another-wlw-shipper]

Chaser Game W2, episode 7

a.k.a. comphet and homophobia strikes back

We begin the episode by showing our favorite lesbian couple and their adorable daughter enjoying life and their new apartment.

Itsuki, who is the cook of the family, prepares bento boxes with love codes for Fuyu ❤️

Everything is going well… almost too well 🤨 So it's only a matter of time before Itsuki panics and lies about her relationship with Fuyu.

Tsuki thinks her mommies look like princesses in their wedding dresses 👰‍♀️💕👰‍♀️

When Tsuki draws her mommies according to the photo, not everyone welcomes the idea of two mommies.

Fuyu's mother returns and does something unexpected...

…but not without an ulterior motive.

(check all my Chaser Game W edits)