#baby log doesn’t really stand a chance here i fear

[kendyroy]

i really wanna see worstie logan interact with logan from x1-x3. i see worstie absolutely destroying the baby cuz his insults are ten times harsher and he’s legally allowed to say the f word more than once.

like i think he’d find the younger logan pretty annoying and see right through his little bad boy act. not saying that worstie is any more mature or cool but he’s definitely been through a lot more and i’d love to see him react to the sassy “young” version of himself

[inkandpen22]

The Princess and The Pogue (pt. 3)

Pairing: JJ x Female!Reader / Topper x Female!Reader 

Warnings: underage drinking, mild swearing, mentions of drugs 

Words count: 2k (it’s short but the next part is long) 

Part Summary: As the night dwindles away, JJ feels pressured to secure a place in your life. His chances grow times ten when Sarah arrives with some interesting news. 

Masterlist

You and JJ share a log around the fire. His arm rests over your thigh, his hand gripping your knee slightly. Your chin rests on his shoulder as you two exchange whisper back and forth, making the Pogues sick with how lovey-dovey you two already are becoming. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” JJ asks, kinda hoping he could ask you for real date but he’ll understand if you already have plans. 

“Hanging out with you,” you cheekily answer, earning a blushing grin from him. 

“Oh! cool, cool...” He presses his lips together with a faint laugh, finding it hard to hide his childish grin. 

You giggle at his bashfulness. He’s so shy around you and you can’t help but find it adorable. 

"Here comes Sarah!" Kiara announces as he spots their friend's car rolling up the drive. 

You and JJ finally break your hype-focused attention away from each other. Almost to make up for the lack of verbal communication, JJ shifts closer to you and plants a quick peck to your temple. 

"Hey! Sorry for the delay!" Sarah announces as she walks over from her car. John B rises from his position, trying to intercept Sarah before she sees you and JJ. Once she reaches John B, she notices how you and JJ are sitting. Her brows scrunch together, but she does her best to mask her confusion. "My parents were having a hissy fit about me borrowing the car. I told them and Y/N's parents that we were staying the night at Kiara's since she doesn't feel well. I hope that's okay, Kie," she asks as she gets closer to the bonfire. 

"Yeah, no problem!" Kiara waves her hand, not caring at all. 

"Wait, so what's the game plan?" You ask Sarah, but also everyone else for their input. You're thankful for the group's help, but weren't exactly prepared for an overnight stay. You understand why Sarah did this nonetheless. 

"You all can stay here tonight," John B shrugs as the Pogues do it all the time. 

"Your parents believed it," Sarah assures you. "I would just text your parents to help it seem more legit." 

"Okay! I'll text my mom," you comply with enthusiasm. 

Hey, I told Sarah to tell you but in case she didn't, we're staying over at Kiara's tonight. I had to drive her home in her dad's car because we think she got food poisoning or something. I'll text you when I'm heading out in the morning. Sarah can drive me home or something :)

"Finally! It'll be nice not being the only girl! I was kinda hoping you and Sarah would stay over anyway," Kiara adds, offering you a kind smile. 

"That makes two of us," JJ whispers for only you to hear. 

"My folks were pretty pissed about me ditching on the party, so I feel no urge on going home," Sarah huffs, right as John B asks for her to help him inside real quick. 

You and JJ watch as John B escorts Sarah inside by the arm. They try to be nonchalant, but it's so obvious they're freaking out. Sarah's whispers aren't exactly quiet and John B's doing his best to fill her in on what he knows. 

JJ turns his face toward yours with a smirk, suppressing his laughter. "They're definitely talking about us." 

"Oh for sure!" You nod slowly with a snicker. 

You two share in your amusement as your friends slowly lose their minds. A Pogue from The Cut was caught kissing the Princess of the OBX. If your friends from the other side of the island found out they would have an even more dramatic reaction. 

Your phone buzzes in your lap and it's from your mom. 

Ok. Text me when you wake up. 

"All set!" You voice to everyone remaining around the fire. "I doubt they'll even care since "I'm still on the Figure 8,” you make air quotes. 

"Yay!" Kiara claps her hands. 

"I say we watch a scary movie tonight!" JJ suggests beside you. 

"The Conjuring!" You vote swiftly, earning a laugh from JJ. 

"No!" Pope instantly refuses. "Nope! Last time we watched that you guys made me sleep on the porch and I heard creeks all night!" 

"Aw, I'll stay with you tonight Pope," Kiara offers, reaching for her friend's hand with a pout. "I'll keep you safe from all the ghosties." 

JJ leans in brushes his lips against your ear. "You gonna keep me safe?" 

You smile softly, turning your head toward him as you nod slowly. "I'll have your back if you have mine." 

His beautiful eyes meet yours in the gold flickering light of the fire. "Always, Baby." He plants a kiss to your lips, this time slow and comforting, as though you two have been doing it forever. 

___________________________________________________________

All six of you are gathered in the living room, watching The Conjuring. John B and JJ insisted that all lights in the house must be off, much to Pope's dismay. Kiara and Pope are positioned on the carpet, their backs against the couch. Pope has been hiding in a ball with his face behind the blanket he shares with Kiara. Sarah and John B are sprawled comfortably on the couch, well invested in the movie. You and JJ share the old red recliner, tucked close in a ball under a comforter. Right before the movie starts to get interesting, you shift forward in your position. JJ whines, disappointed in the loss of contact. His pouty face makes you giggle and he playfully tries to keep you close by holding onto your wrist. 

"I need another drink, anyone else?" You offer quietly, making sure not to step on Kiara or Pope on the floor on the way to the kitchen. You receive various forms of declines as you do your best to navigate your way through the dark and unfamiliar house. 

Finally finding yourself in the kitchen, you make yourself a glass of water. The moonlight shining through the window over the sink acts as your saving grace. Suddenly, you feel a pair of arms slip around your waist, causing you to jump. 

"Hey, Gorgeous," the blonde whispers against your neck. 

"JJ!" You gasp your heart racing. 

"Did I scare you?" He chuckles quietly to not alert the others. 

You spin in his hold and nudge him on the shoulder playfully. "You did that on purpose!"

"Not really but-" In one swift motion, JJ picks up and places you on the counter. He parts your legs to stand between them. His palms glide up and down your thighs. "That I did mean to do," he smirks, biting down on his lip. 

"JJ! Y/N! You're going to miss the wardrobe part!" Pope shouts, his voice shaky with fear. 

"I wish I had spoken to you sooner," JJ confesses abruptly, completely his friend in the next room. All he cares about right now is you. 

"Dido," you smirk, placing your arms over JJ's shoulders. 

"Really?" He voices in disbelief. Despite how much you've reassured him or have reciprocated his affections, he still isn't convinced that you truly like him. 

"That first time I saw you at the Cameron's?" You recall with raised brows. "Um, yeah! You looked hot in that pale green Ron Jon shirt." 

"I can't believe you remember that," he shakes his head, leaning in closer to you. I thought there was no way you'd know who I am." 

"JJ," you say his name in a mild groan with a toss of your head. How can this boy not see how amazing he is? "You're definitely worth remembering." 

"It was at the Boneyard," he states a matter-of-factly. 

"What was?" You grin. 

"The first time I ever saw you," he tilts his head back slightly, relieving his sharp jawline. "You were dancing with Topper on the wall. The fire made your skin glow and shimmer like bronze. You wore a navy blue bikini with ripped white booty shorts. Your hair was half up and all I could think about was how much I wanted to run my fingers through it. You were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen," he tells you, never once breaking eye contact. 

"That was last summer!" You can't believe he remembers that. 

"I know," he replies as though it's completely ordinary. 

Your jaw drops, "you're saying you've been waiting to talk to me for a year?!" 

"Okay well, when you put it that way," he tries to play it off and be cool now. 

"Aw JJ!" You express a little too excitedly, bringing your hands to his cheeks. 

JJ is quick to press his hand over your mouth. "Shh, Baby. Before you alert everyone in the living room!" Mischievously, you plant a kiss on his palm, catching him off guard. JJ swallows hard, peering down at you with hooded eyes.  "Okay, now you're just teasing me." 

You place your hand over his and remove it from your mouth. "You make it too easy," you giggle in a whisper. 

JJ simply stares down at your lips as he bites down on his own. Before you have a chance to react, he hungrily presses his lips to yours. Ever kiss up until now has been gentle, new, and hesitant. Now, JJ is forgetting his nerves and is acting on impulse. He breaks away from you and moves his assault to your neck. You comb your fingers through his thick blonde hair, gripping the strands on the back of his neck. 

"JJ," you pant breathlessly as your eyes fall shut. "What are you doing?" 

"Making up for lost time," he breathes against your neck. I'm really kicking myself right now." 

"It's my fault too," you try to speak as JJ makes a track down your neck to your collarbone. "I could've at least said 'hi' instead of smiling like an idiot." 

"At least you were nice," JJ mumbles against your chest. "I was a statue. Plus, I always thought you and Rafe may be-"

"Ew! Don't even finish that sentence," you scoff in disgusts. 

"You were always at the Cameron's. He's always on top of you and watches you like a hawk," JJ explains as he pops up for air. 

"He's had a thing for me for a while now. I've turned him down," you inform him.  

JJ frowns in confusion. "Why?" 

You figured it would've been obvious, especially considering how much JJ hates Rafe. "He's an arrogant ass. He thinks he's invincible and I hate people like that." 

"Well, you can tell him you're taken now," JJ grins, leaning in to kiss you. 

"Oh, I am?" You question playfully against his lips. 

"Yep," the boy nods as he begins to glide his lips across your jawline. "You're mine... and only mine..." He whispers, making you bite your lip with anticipation. Boy, this kid knows how to get you turned on. "I'll make sure everyone in the OBX knows it too," he declares as he starts to suck on the sensitive skin on your neck. At the rate JJ is going, he's certain to leave a mark or two, just as he wanted. 

"You guys!" Kiara calls this time. 

JJ huffs with annoyance as he appears out from your neck. "Coming!" He shouts, completely unfazed by what he was just doing. "Got you're so sexy," he plants a quick peck to your lips. "I hope you know I'm going to be dying through this entire movie." 

Ever the gentleman, he grips your waist and helps you down from the counter. He slips his hand into yours and grabs your water with the other before leading the way back into the living room. 

"She couldn't find the sodas in the fridge. I had to grab a new box from the back," he conjures up as you two cross the living room toward the recliner. 

"Sureee," John B and Sarah say in unison with amusement. 

"Sorry guys, what did we miss?" You ask while you and JJ get settled. 

After you take a quick sip from your water, you place it on the side table between the recliner and the couch before getting comfortable again with JJ. 

"Nice water, Y/N." Sarah giggles as she peaks over from the couch at your hand, earning an eye roll from JJ. 

"The crazy demon lady jumped on the daughter. I hate this!" Pope rushes out to answer your question. 

"Oh my God! You're fine, Pope!" Kiara groans, not hiding her annoyance. 

"I wish it wasn't so dark in here!" Pope shouts dramatically. 

"I kinda like it," JJ purrs in your ear. 

You turn your head to the side and he plants a kiss on your lips. As the others watch the movie, you and JJ spend most of the time whispering back and forth or too caught up in each other physically to talk at all. Of course, you two are respectful of your friends and keep it PG. Yet, you can't get enough of each other. It's all so soon, energetic, and freeing. As the thought of tomorrow morning lingers in the back of your mind, you’re starting to dread the idea of parting from JJ. 

__________________________________________________

Masterlist 

Tags: @starkeythinker @bethii1 @thegunnerkelly @cc13723things

[yuzukult]

dissonance (teaser) || jjk & reader

title: dissonance pairing: jeon jungkook x reader genre: angst, eventual smut (but teaser is smut free baby), fluff, rockstar!jungkook, gradstudent!reader teaser wc: 1,277 | full fic wc: tbd summary: something that first seems out of reach becomes a reality for him. screaming adoring fans, billboards with him and his band plastered on it, and touring across the globe with venues sold out. he has everything... but all he's missing is you. a/n: back at it again !! i honestly didn't think i'd come back with another jungkook fic but... i've always written series' for him so maybe this time lets dabble in a one-shot. :) enjoy this little teaser!

He loves it here. It’s his dream to be here, on the stage, with the feeling of the music rumbling underneath the soles of his chunky boots, the sea of fans screaming and hollering out his name with his self-produced songs booming through the speakers of the venue while his band stands by his side, just as passionate for this as he is.

It’s his dream; he reiterates this constantly as a reminder that this isn’t something everyone gets the chance to breathe the opportunity of. He’s been manifesting this scenario his entire life, wishing and praying to the potential Gods to help make his aspirations become a reality. He’d work his ass off to make ends meet, be able to afford the necessities all while chasing this goal that many claimed to be unrealistic or unattainable. But he’s here right now, supporters that flood the building to the brim for a concert that’s been sold out in thirty cities so far. He has everything he could ever want. Girls, money, music…

But why does he feel… like there’s something missing?

Another pair of panties gets thrown at the toes of his boots—it’s probably the sixth one that night but he’s grown used to this already. In some performances, girls would throw themselves at his feet instead of undergarments, yelling at the top of their lungs so ferociously that the security guards had to hold them back in fear of what they’re capable of. And sure, if he really wanted to, he could ask them out or invite them back to his hotel room for a quick bang, and it was what he’d been doing for the first couple years, and maybe they’ll make him feel a little less like this.

Albeit it doesn’t quite hit the same way anymore.

He’s left with this feeling of emptiness when he says his goodbyes and shuts the door behind them; there’s a gap in his chest like he’s forgotten something, yearning for it to be filled but those girls aren’t the ones to do it. His dreams used to be able to—but what are accomplished dreams when you have no one to share it with?

His friends/band mates are great, supportive and understanding, he’s admitted that he’s gotten lucky in that department, but part of him believes that it’s not friendship he’s lacking.

It’s love.

It sounds sappy to the ears of strangers, especially because ideally, you’re not supposed to depend on love to have that stuffing to the brim emotions in your chest, to feel complete and whole because a pretty person fell for you and vice versa. But to Jungkook, being in love had been something he thought he could toss under the rug for another day when he’d given up the girl he’d be infatuated with for this unobtainable aspiration, yet instead, he finds himself back in the same spot years later. Missing it.

He loved the chase—he’s a hopeless romantic kind of guy. After all, how would all of his songs be so full of raw emotions like that? It’s because Jungkook lives it—or well, lived it because everything he knew about love had been left on a shelf to collect dust. And he’d try to convince himself that he didn’t need someone, but he’d grown… lonely.

And quite frankly, finding someone genuine has proven to be difficult.

Don’t mention Tinder, Jungkook has already tried that. It promptly made headlines the moment he logged into that app with a selfie he’s never used before, and still then people actually thought he was catfishing, and wasn’t the real Jeon Jungkook. He should’ve known. But in all fairness, Jungkook isn’t much of a ‘future thinker.’

Then there was trying to date a staff member—worse idea yet. That noona ended up pissed at him when he realized that this isn’t what he wanted (he’d learn she was quite the control freak) and she flipped shit to the point that his managers fired her on the spot then informed the security that she was on the “do-not-enter” list.

After that, Jungkook just thought maybe he was going about this wrong.

Maybe, women weren’t actually of his interest.

Possibly, he was into men.

So, he tried. He ventured out a little, got a little taste here and there. Jungkook even found someone who fit him perfectly. His name? Kim Hyunwoo.

It worked out for a little, Jungkook admits, because Hyunwoo was overall a great boyfriend. He looked out for Jungkook, treated him well and they shared the same interests overall.

But… that was the problem.

They got along very well. As if they were best friends.

He found himself getting a bit uncomfortable when things got a little too serious—don’t get him wrong though, he honestly wasn’t embarrassed to be dating a guy. Hyunwoo was the definition of a model; handsome, tall with these sharp facial features. He’d been stopped and recruited several times during their dates, and truthfully, it made Jungkook feel a little awkward. He was the celebrity here, yet standing beside Hyunwoo only makes him feel small.

And in all honesty, he shouldn’t feel this way about the success of his significant other. But it wasn’t even just that. He found himself unable to pass first base with the guy—something about the action itself made him feel… discomfort. But he’s attracted to Hyunwoo. So why can’t he push himself to kiss him?

Jungkook learns maybe he finds men appealing but he can’t have more with them.

So, he goes back into the dating game. Met girls all over during his tour stops; he met a foreign girl named Lily, a gorgeous girl with pretty blonde hair and pale skin. But they didn’t click. He oddly felt like they weren’t ever on the same page. Then he went to dinner with a gal named—okay. He forgot her name. But the way her dress hugged her ass made his mind go blank, so could he really be blamed? (The answer is yes.) Oh! What about that girl whose name is similar to a hurricane? She had long, dark hair that matched her lengthy lashes that fluttered over her supple cheeks when she sucked his—

Nonetheless, it’s a dud again. He’s still lonely, he sadly confesses, but all of this is too much for him to process. He’s tired of getting his heart broken. He’s exhausted from meeting girls who first claimed that they’re not obsessed then actually are. He’s worn out of the ones who don’t love him for him, but love him for his fame.

Jungkook just wants to be loved for being… Jungkook.

And when he encounters you, some graduate student who spends majority of her days in between the activities of face dug into a textbook or eyes glued onto a computer screen, he thinks he’s back to where he was before this lifestyle. Jungkook finds himself swooning, desperately wishing for your touch and kisses, but there’s just one thing he doesn’t quite know.

Do you like Jungkook for Jungkook? Or do you like the ideal version of him that sings on stage, tossing off his shirt with his abs flexing while the crowd screams his name once more, all while the veins in his neck pop when he reaches that high note?

Or do you like Jungkook, the one who still doesn’t understand the difference between an orange and clementine, the one who still has trouble knowing when a potato is thoroughly cooked, and why his socks came out of the wash in this weird pinky shade when they definitely went in as white.

So… which is it? Which Jungkook are you interested in?

[slowpoke-fics]

The Good Doctor - Part Two

Fandom: TWD

Pairing: Negan x Reader; platonic Rick x Reader; platonic Daryl x Reader

Summary: you leave Alexandria and arrive at Sanctuary

Warnings: touch of self deprecation, everything is off cannon, read at your own risk

A/N: I'm having fun with this one, hard to stay cannon but I tried as best I could

The Good Doctor Part One!!

Negan scoffed, unbelievable that you’d demand that, he’s gotta run his own group, “Are you fuckin’ joking sweetheart?” You laughed, packing up the supplies and giving the bag of supplies back to him, “No, I am not,” you pulled back and crossed your arms, “so how bad do you want me, Negan?”

Negan sighed, not wanting to leave you behind, having to decide if the supplies were worth giving you up. "Alright," Negan stood up, "that's what we fuckin' do then." Negan walked to the door, opening it for Amelia. "Amelia, doll, this is my good doctor friend, she's gonna show you how to do everything around here, while I go find Carl and that little Judith," he grabbed the Twix from the bag, "I get to take credit for this one though," waving the Twix around as he walked out the door.

About two hours or so after showing Amelia how you kept your charts, how everything was labeled and organized, how to make sense of when to give someone herbal tea you grow or actual medicine, Rick barges in. "What do you think you're doing Y/n? You can't go with him!" You scoffed, "Amelia has this covered, it'll be fine it's just a week." You moved around the clinic closer to Rick, "You can't tell me I can't do this when it means we keep next weeks supplies!" Rick shook his head, "Y/n, he will never allow that, he will get his due, what do you think you're doing?"

"Rick! He has always kept his word to me! He thought this through, brought supplies and a doctor with him! He wants this and I might be able to convince him to go easier on Alexandria!" You rubbed your face knowing that Rick would have a problem with this, "Y/n, he's not doing this out of the kindness of his heart, he wants something from you. I can't allow this." You laughed, with your full heart, "You're not allowing anything, I want this Rick, I have a chance to really change his mind about us and you want me to what? Say fuck you we don't need your antibiotics and slack? We're barely making it, so either get on board, or shut the fuck up." With that, Rick stormed out, Negan walking back up the sidewalk back to the clinic, shining his under-your-skin smile at Rick. Maybe that is what he wanted, to piss off Rick.

Negan walked back into the clinic, smiling brightly at you, "You about fuckin' ready sugar?" You nodded, "Amelia, you got any questions for me?" Amelia looked at you, at the charts and her notes, "No, I-I think I'm good." You smiled, "Okay, good," turning to Negan, "one more stop, gotta get some of my stuff and my books so I can study." Negan laughed, "Are you fuckin' joking?" You rolled your eyes, "If you have to ask, then no, I'm not joking." Pushing past Negan and down to your house you saw Daryl, perched on your porch.

"Ay, where do ya think you're goin'?" Daryl just looked at you waiting for an answer, "With Negan, going to go with him for the week, see if I can't trade some of my musty medical books for some new ones." Daryl looked at you with so much fear it broke your heart, "Don't worry, I'll be fine, Negan isn't going to take me to the rest of the saviors to just let me get hurt." Negan perked up at this, the good doctor defending him, "She's fuckin' right ya know, wouldn't ever let anything happen to our good doctor here." Daryl almost growled at Negan, you can't blame him for not liking the man, "Worried it's him that'll do all the hurting," Daryl whispered so only you could hear. "He wouldn't Daryl, it'll be okay, I'll be back in a week." With that, you marched into your house, collecting your toothbrush, an extra outfit or two and your books.

Coming out of your house, Rick, Daryl and Negan all stood on your porch. "You ready to get rollin'?" You smiled at Negan, hiding the fear of getting onto his bike. "Yeah," still smiling, "not like I have much to bring." You went down your steps and stopped when Daryl grabbed Negan by the shoulder, "Ya bring her back or ya die with me." Negan jerked back from him, "Boy don't ever fucking do that again," Negan descended the steps and paused, looking to Daryl, "I'll bring the good doctor home."

You crawled on Negan's bike, grabbing tightly to him, very nervous to ride with him. Negan smiled at you relying on him, it felt nice for you to need him, even if all you needed was to get to Sanctuary. As he rolled out of Alexandria he slid your hands around his waist, raising a blush to your cheeks, "Better to hold there, doll."

You couldn't help but skip a beat and grab a little tighter to Negan during every bump in the road, wouldn't it be something if you've made it this far and what takes you out is a fuckin' bike? You really felt as if Negan was enjoying this, you grabbing him a little tighter every time you got a little nervous. You still didn't really understand why he wanted you to come back with him, why he wanted it so much to lose out of Alexandria's supplies.

As he parked the bike he stepped off, smiling and holding out his hand, "We're here doll." You grabbed his hand, swinging your leg over the side of the bike, when you hit the ground you stumbled a bit, grabbing onto Negan and laughing, "Damn, maybe if I could stand." Negan chuckles at that, "Let me show you around, doll."

Following Negan he led you to the trading posts, where anything could be exchanged for just about anything. Then he showed you the cafeteria, more people than you'd seen in one place than you'd seen since it started. Then he led you up several flights of stairs, Jesus Christ, no wonder this man is so beautiful if this is his workout everyday. Nope, Y/n, this man is ruthless and you are here to fight for Alexandria.

He opened a door to what you thought was a commune it was so big, "This is where me n you are stayin' welcome to your home for the next week." You turned to him with wide eyes, "I'm staying here? With you?" Negan laughed, "Shit doll, just the best way I could keep my eyes on you." You shrugged and started to look around, "I'll sleep here," pointing to the couch, "this is where you live?" Negan again chuckled, "No, this is just where me n you are staying while you're here," moving past you to set his things down, "figured you'd like to be close to everything, maybe to the doc so you can learn." Maybe Negan had done something nice and actually just wanted to do something for you and this was the best way that he could do so. "Come on, I'll show you the fuckin' garden, you'll love it.

After showing you the entirety of Sanctuary, you finally got to go see this Doc he's been yapping about. "Doc," Negan started as he opened the door, "this is that fuckin' firecracker I thought you'd like to work with!" Carson smiled at you, happy he was able to teach someone again. "Ah yes! The doctor from Alexandria! I've been prepping for your arrival all day! I understand you're going on a run tomorrow, but we can work together the remaining time Negan doesn't have you tied up!" Carson seemed genuinely excited to work with you, but you knew nothing of going on a run with Negan tomorrow.

Whipping around to Negan, "A run tomorrow?" Negan scratched his beard and smiled at the you, "Dammit, Carson, hadn't really told her about that, see you later." Negan led you out of Carson's office and back up to your designated home for the week, "I was going to tell you," pulling out a bottle of liquor from the desk, "there's a place about forty miles from here I thought you'd like to help me ransack." You hummed in consideration as he poured two glasses, "I reckon we can go as long as we don't take the damn bike, not sure I'd last that long." Negan smirked, "Oh, baby, I could make you last that long." You laughed, a blush rushing to your cheeks and a desire to your core, "Not sure you've got it in ya man," you downed your drink and held the glass out for him to refill. "You could find out ya know," Negan winked at you, "we'll take the fuckin' truck, gotta have something to bring the supplies in."

That night you lay on the sofa, writing your entry for the day in your journal:

May 21st

I made it to sanctuary with Negan, it's actually a little unbelievable, still not sure what my purpose is, did he bring me here to learn from Carson? to be able to trade my books? to be able to help him on the run? what's the point? I'm no more useful here than at Alexandria, knot on a log, maybe he isn't so bad and I'm overthinking it, I know he read this journal, maybe he thinks he can fix me, sucks for him, I'm broken beyond repair

[yukiriin]

BokuAka fic recs

@lnsouke asked for some BokuAka recs, so here’s a list of some of my favorite BokuAka fics!

♥ = personal favorite

First of all, literally anything by norio, who’s like THE BokuAka author, but my favorites so far are:

if kisses were fishes, then i'd be an ocean (G | 4.600)

notice me kouhai (G | 4.400)

nine hundred lies (G | 8.400)

the volleyball is beautiful tonight (G | 2.400)

one in a hundred (G | 4.000)

apowlogize (G | 2.300)

Fight! The Exciting Adventures of a High School Girl! The Fire Will Never Die! (G | 1.900 | Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun AU)

i put my hand out, unfolded, into the sunlight by carafin G | 3.700

In which Bokuto Kotarou is woefully inept at conveying his feelings, and Akaashi Keiji has a sort-of superpower. Sort of. Next to him, Komi is chewing his cupcake dutifully, albeit with obvious effort. Washio has assumed a completely neutral expression on his face, although Akaashi thinks that his eyes might be watering. Sarukui, having seemingly demolished the entire thing out of sheer willpower alone, looks like he deeply regrets every single choice that has led to this precise moment in his life. ‘It isn’t too bad, huh?’ Bokuto says, grinning. ‘I made them in our school colours, so they’re like, marbled black and white chocolate swirls! Do you guys want more?’ Sarukui looks like he might pass out at the thought alone. Komi pauses mid-chew to shake his head weakly. ‘I’ll have more,’ Akaashi says, to the general astonishment of everyone.

From the text logs of Bokuto Koutarou by koikawa T | 2.800

(To: Keiji) akaashi!!!!! I got a new phone!!! (From: Keiji) Who is this (To: Keiji) it’s your best friend in the whole world!!!! (From: Keiji) Konoha-san?

legs killed the owl by dalyeau T | 1.900

He's not smiling anymore an hour later, after he's fucked up four perfect spikes that Akaashi tossed carefully for him because he's too distracted by the lean, elegant line of Akaashi's legs, kneepads dark against the white of Fukurodani's gym.

third wheel by arsenicjay T | 4.500

"So you and Bokuto, huh?" Akaashi's attention snaps back to Kuroo and he gives the other boy a blank stare. "What about us?" Or, Kuroo figures out that Bokuto is interested in Akaashi long before Bokuto does himself and being the kind friend that he is, tries to help them along.

pink roses for the couple at the back by orphan_account T | 4.800

The first-year, who Kuroo assumed to be Akaashi, seemed to grow more dead inside as the two approached them, and Kuroo couldn’t help the smirk on his face as Fukurodani’s setter patted Akaashi’s shoulder and departed with a pitying, “Good luck, Akaashi-kun.” Akaashi barely looked at him as he dryly said, “Thank you, Uchido-san.” “AGHASHEE!” Kuroo briefly wondered if that was how Bokuto always pronounced his name, then snorted when he saw the first-year close his eyes and mutter a bitter, “Fuck you, Uchido-san.” alternatively: bokuaka is in love but in kuroo's point of view.

our destiny, in ourselves by drifloon G | 6.600

Akaashi was probably thinking about how stupid he was for having said yes to this, a day at the zoo when it wasn’t even that warm yet, March air keeping everyone on their toes. But the sun was out and shining, and for a first date, the weather was good. Not that this was a date, Koutarou quickly corrected himself. Just a last hurrah while they were still teammates. A last chance to see each other before it was all over.

5 tips to get your guy by Mizaaistom G | 5.900 | ♥

Second-year Bokuto gets fantastic dating advice from his sister’s magazines.

Something good can work by choir T | 3.700

“Do you want to date, Akaashi?” The serve that Keiji is about to hit curves and hits Konoha in the back of the head.

idyll by mutterandmumble T | 6.600

In which a risk is taken, a list is made, there’s a piano, and somehow Akaashi gets a boyfriend out of all of it.

Victory Will Be Mine by spadebrigade T | 4.000

"Bokuto-san," Akaashi found himself saying, sweat dripping down his forehead. "If we win this match, I’ll give you a kiss."

Sphoeroides maculatus by himbokuto (hibouu) G | 1.100

Akaashi's plan to boost Bokuto's confidence has unexpected results, but he's not complaining.

desire as your holy fire by blushytobio (blanketkicks) G | 4.900

The five times Bokuto calls Akaashi by his first name. (alternate description: Akaashi’s weaknesses are Bokuto, Bokuto, and Bokuto.)

Red Reed by yuuki T | 5.200

It's Aka-ashi, Keiji wants to say every time Bokuto says his name wrong, not Ah-kashi. He never corrects him. It's easier to study if you don't talk and actually study, Keiji wants to tell Bokuto every time he fails a test. He never tells him. Everything Bokuto does makes Keiji fall in love with him, and there's a lot that Keiji doesn't tell him.

Something to Look Forward To by mousapelli T | 500

Bokuto's a bit clingy, which makes Akaashi curious what he did the whole of his first year.

Right Outside Your Window by hokshi G | 2.100

Akaashi has a frequent visitor in his classroom.

Principles by timkons G | 2.800

Akaashi has a list of Bokuto's weaknesses. Bokuto has a list of Akaashi's principles.

Observing You Observing Me by undercovermartian G | 2.700

Bokuto realizes that he doesn't know Akaashi as much as Akaashi knows him. Bokuto comes to the conclusion that this will not do so he vows to learn everything about Akaashi that he can, using his powers of observation alone. Akaashi is a weirdo and a worrywart.

soft blue by groaninlynch G | 6.000

Koutarou finds a sketchbook that he's never seen before.

Owl Notes by orphan_account T | 8.800 | Bullying and implied self-harm

Bokuto has brought an owl plushie with him to school every day since junior high. One day, while running down the hall, he crashes into someone, and loses it. It makes its way back with a note under its wing, and prompts him to search for the owl's rescuer.

Flaws Upon Your Sleeve by downtownfishies G | 9.400

First Akaashi fell hard for volleyball, which was fine. Then he made the questionable decision of falling for his team's ace.

Lumos of my Life by DeathBelle T | 6.700 | Hogwarts AU

Bokuto knows who Akaashi Keiji is. Everyone knows who Akaashi Keiji is. Bokuto has never spoken to him, but that's by personal choice. He doesn't fancy making a fool of himself. When he and Kuroo get caught sneaking out past curfew by Akaashi himself, who is a fifth-year prefect, Bokuto has no choice but to speak to him. As expected, he kind of makes a fool of himself.

Thermodynamic by Telenovela G | 5.000 | ♥

Heat can be transferred from place to place in three ways: conduction, convection and radiation.

Noctua by Telenovela G | 2.200

Every night before official matches, Bokuto and Akaashi lie side by side on the roof of Akaashi's apartment building and watch the stars together.

Maybe We're Airborne, Baby by fathomfive T | 3.100

Realizing he's got it bad for his setter is the easy part. Getting his feelings across might be the hardest thing Bokuto's ever done, not counting his literature final or putting out the flames on that birthday cake he tried to bake for Akaashi last year, or—or a lot of things, actually. But the point still stands. Reaching out to Akaashi is a leap in the dark, and he wants it more than he's ever wanted anything. He's an expert at seizing his perfect moment, at bringing victory home against the odds. So he's got this, right? It's gonna go great, right? Right? (After all, it's what you attempt with your own two hands that matters.)

wonders that remain by shizuoh T | 2.900

The door swings right open, like Akaashi had been standing there, waiting for him. He hasn't even knocked yet. Oh, jeez. He's going to die. (or: bokuto goes on his first date with the one and only akaashi keiji.)

bitter by silvercistern G | 14.000 | ♥

He accepted his classmate's chocolates gracefully, then declared his lack of interest with as much dignity as he could muster. She deserved the courtesy. At least she'd acknowledged that Valentine's Day was all about her, and not about him in the slightest. Because if any of these girls had taken the time to actually get to know him, they’d quickly realize something even more important than his lack of interest in girls. And that was that Akaashi hated sweets.

Kissing Ace by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor) G | 2.400

It happens right after training camp. Akaashi Keiji has a secret he has guarded since he was a child. He won’t go so far as to call it a fear, but more of an aspect of himself of which he is horribly mortified. No one on the team knows about it, and Akaashi does his best to keep it that way. But years of dodging hugs and casual contact come to naught in the blink of an eye and the swipe of a hand.

A Lesson In Anatomy by Zillyhoo T | 830

Bokuto gets his hands on a label maker, and after filling the dorm with them, he decides to get a little creative with where he starts to place them.

Notes: Bokuto Koutarou by dgalerab T | 8.700 | ♥

Bokuto knows he's a hassle, but he likes to think that Akaashi likes him. Sometimes, he even shows it. Or: 5 times Akaashi showed that he thought highly of Bokuto and 1 time that Bokuto proved he thought just as highly of Akaashi.

Karma by dgalerab T | 9.000

Akaashi pulls a muscle and Bokuto offers to help him with yoga. Akaashi knows a bad idea when he sees it, and he really only agrees because he's suddenly acquired a deeply rooted desire to see Bokuto do yoga. For multiple reasons.

[border-spam]

Q: Do you think Typhon was an abusive father? He says he was a 'third rate dad' but doesnt explain why. Randy said he refused to touch Tyreen after Leda died. His reaction to killing his kids could just be bad writing. Troy said he thought he was a freak, but that could be Troy's insecurity. Our only evidence is what Typhon and the Twins say, but Typhon is suspicious already and the Twins are shown to be manipulative. Was Typhon a clueless father trying his best or an abusive asshat?

Hooo boy. Been sitting on this one a while. In we go. 

Was Typhon DeLeon an abusive father: A nerd essay by me, cause I’m a sad fuck.

Yeah. He was. 100%. Absolutely.

Just not intentionally, and for reasons that were coming from good places. I can’t stand Typhon but I’m going to remain relatively unbiased in this bar insulting him as much as possible cause fuck Typhon. Eww.

Bl3 left us with shockingly little information to go on when it came to figuring out how all this went down, how Typhon’s upbringing or lack thereof of the Calypso Twins warped them into the broken monstrous Gods they became, and if he was actually really to blame or not.

We have four main players in this puzzle. Typhon, Troy, and Tyreen DeLeon, and Leda Calypso. One of these characters didn’t get a single line of dialogue and was reduced to being a fucktoy attached to a womb, so poor Leda is out of the equation.

We have a third party write up on Typhon released after the game containing a lot of content that was never in the game, including some of his logic behind the choices he made here.

And finally, we have the information given to us by the three remaining characters. Typhon, and the Calypso Twins.

Breaking this down further, we have two characters at odds with each other, Typhon and Tyreen. 

Tyreen hates Typhon. Hates. It can’t be stressed enough that the only motivation the writers left in the game for poor Ty, was how much she hated her father. Tyreen however, is also a grade A dramaqueen and someone who I cannot bring myself to trust completely when it comes to her describing how Typh treated the twins. I am positive everything she says is based on a truth, but how much of it has been over exaggerated and built on after years of brooding and hatred is up to us to work out, and that’s quite hard to do.

Typhon on the other hand, is a grade A bullshitter. We learn this through his logs and through actually just *talking* to the vile little prick. He speaks in anecdotes, he relies on constantly retelling stories to communicate. I wouldn’t trust the little shit as far as I could throw him. He constantly exaggerates his accolades, his sexual prowess, likely how much his wife was infatuated with him, his skill in adventuring, everything, but he still confirms he was not a good father, so that really says a lot. 

Finally, we have the only person I actually trust when it comes to their opinion on this. Finally, we have Troy.

Something I’ve noticed after chatting with friends about this and covering old content, is how little Troy Calypso ever seems to lie or bullshit. He is shockingly honest, it’s a real surprise compared to Tyreen. He’s truthful to the vault hunters, his emotions are pretty much worn on his sleeve around Ty, and even in dialogue with the likes of Katagawa he is direct and not nearly as “flowery” in his communication as she is. 

He hates the majority of the COV followers and shows a complete lack of coddling them, and he does the same with the VH and raiders. He’s direct in his communication in general, especially when alone and out of persona.

Troy gives us more backstory about the twin’s family life than literally any other point in the game does, and he explains it genuinely, 1:1 and privately to the VH over echocom. He has no reason to lie. There is no gain in this for him, there is no grounds for me to think anything he said was false because lying in this situation wouldn’t match his established character. 

Troy does not hate Typhon. 

Troy did not want to leave Nekrotafeyo. 

Troy did not want to leave his father.

The info Troy shares with us is that Typhon couldn’t let Ty out of his sight after Leda had her “accident”, and he was overbearing in his worry for her. Troy was sidelined as a child and felt that his father just saw him as a freak while doting (unwantedly it seems) on Tyreen. This may not have been directly the case, but again, there is no reason to think Troy is making this up. He doesn’t make up things like this for pity, he actually seems quite averse to looking for pity in general.

Tyreen says Typhon kept them in a cage, that he was afraid the Bandits in the universe would tear them apart, and instead held them prisoner. This is semi factual, but definitely blown out of proportion because again, Troy doesn’t feel this way. Typhon (according to the additional info in the writeup I linked) was terrified of what corporations would do to twin Sirens -considering one is male-, and that’s a really valid concern.

They would absolutely be hunted by the likes of Hyperion if Jack hadn’t been balls deep in his mad rush for the warrior at the time. Typh wouldn’t let them leave home based on this, and while I can understand his logic, there are three main things to consider here:

Troy and Tyreen both seem to think Typhon thought Ty was a monster and that was the reason they were not allowed leave. That is fucked. There is no way they both came up with this out of the blue, and Typhon must have at some point said something or acted in a way to imply this was the reason. That is horrific. That is beyond abusive to say to children, and it was definitely a factor in how warped their mentality towards themselves over time became.

The twins were so terrified of Typhon finding the ship parts Troy was working on and destroying them, that they hid them inside their mothers grave. Again. This is horrific. This is not something young adults who aren’t abused would consider doing. Troy has never alluded to hating Typhon and still agreed with Tyreen this needed to be done. The fear there is palpable, this is not the behavior of young adults who’s relationship with a parent is healthy.

The twins and Typhon had a complete lack of trust between them. A family with this level of distrust has encountered abuse at some point. Typhon was so distrusting of his near adult children ( the twins sounded very late teens - early twenties on Nekro ) that he refused to allow them to have any semblance of a life. He refused to let them be free, because he so feared they would either be incapable of caring for themselves, or would hurt others. The twins distrusted their father so much that they had to resort to hiding their escape means from him. Even Troy, who thought once the ship was complete they’d be taking Typhon with them, didn’t trust him enough to let him know what he was working on. They were afraid of what their father would do if he found out. 

This dynamic drips abuse. If it was just Tyreen telling this information to us, I’d find it hard to take as factual as I said earlier, it would feel blown out of proportion, but Troy telling us, and the echologs existing and backing it up? Well, it’s not a lie. It did happen.

The final piece for me is how Typhon responded to Troy being dead. 

He couldn’t have fucking cared less. He did not give a flying shit. 

The one person who had shown any regret towards leaving him, who had cared about him, and Typhon didn’t bat an eyelid that he was dead. He gives an “Ah well he was a monster anyway lol” response, then immediately starts trying to baby talk his wittle girl, his ickle Starlight. It’s gross. It was vile.

It really showed where his value lay and had always lay, and confirmed Troy had been telling the truth when he’d awkwardly tried to explain how Typhon had just always seen him as a freak, while overly doting on Tyreen to the point of smothering her. 

He was a terrible father, and while his abuse came from a place of concern and love, it was absolutely abuse. 

Had he so much as tried to find his kids, had he cared about them an iota more then sitting on a dead planet jacking off to memories of his wife for nearly a decade, the twins might have stood a chance. They might have been able to be happy.

Asks are open!

[hunidlo]

Call of Fire

CHAPTER 3 - The Decision

Rating: M

Word Count: 3K

Pairing: The Mandalorian x F!Reader

Warnings: slow burn fic, language, mentions of death, angst

A/N: I really enjoyed writing angry Mando parts for this chapter. Hope you enjoy them too.

Summary: Now that you know where your parents might be, you need to figure out a way to get out this planet. And the Mandalorian has a ship, doesn’t he?

Chapter 1   //   Chapter 2 //   Masterlist //  Chapter 4

***

By the time you get to the village, the sun has already set and you are troubled by a number of questions. You worry about what might be awaiting you in the village. 

Have the villagers come back? … Are the bandits still there? … Is the Mandalorian dead?

Then, you see light coming from the settlement. There is no turmoil, no clattering of weapons, no blaster fires—a good sign, you think.

When you get closer to the square, a heartbreaking cry comes from somewhere in front of you. 

“No!” A woman is running towards you—Zullu’s mother. “My baby!”

She hugs the body that is being carried in your arms and weeps. 

“S-she saved me.” You eventually say. “I’m sorry ... I couldn’t …” 

Zullu’s mother raises her teary eyes at you and nods. She understands.

A couple of men from the village come and gently take Zullu’s body from your arms. Too weak to resist, you let them. One of them places a hand on your shoulder. “You should rest …,” he says compassionately.

Having a chance to look around now, you see dozens of torches lit around the small village, illuminating the rubble that used to be the square. You observe the people who are getting rid of the dead bodies, cleaning up the mess and going through the clutter that remained in the place of the barn.

Then, you see the Mandalorian. He’s standing on the front porch of one of the houses—his feet wide apart, thumbs tucked into his belt—his visor fixed at you. 

So he’s still here.

“This ...” You tilt your chin towards the debris. “... his doing?”

“... Not his fault …,” the man replies. “One of them decided to blow the barn up with the Mandalorian in it.” 

You turn your head to the man.

“They underestimated him,” he continues on when he notices your baffled look, “He killed them all ...”

“No, he didn’t,” you mutter to yourself, remembering the bandit you killed in the forest.

The Mandalorian’s gaze makes you uneasy but you do not have the strength to think about it—about him—any longer. You really need to rest. 

You let your weak legs lead you to your hut. You head straight to the ‘fresher, washing the blood and dirt from your hands and body. You can’t stop thinking about what happened in the woods—the way the bandit’s body split in half because you wished it to do so, what Zullu said about your parents ... Zullu—you try to suppress a sob—you can’t believe it ... can’t accept it. Your limbs begin to tremble and you burst into tears again.

When you get out of the ‘fresher, you’re beyond exhausted.

You fall asleep as soon as soon as your body hits the bed.

***

You wake up early. The sleep helped with your exhaustion but it did not ease your mind at all. You look in the mirror to see your eyes are puffy, your cheek is swollen, and you have a split lip. 

It doesn’t surprise you, the bandit hit you really hard yesterday.

Everyone is already up. They are still working on the repairs around the village. Some of the men are cutting down trees near the woods—for the funeral pyre, you realise. 

You squint and see something shiny near the cart … the Mandalorian is helping the men load the logs ...

Why hasn’t he left yet?

It was sort of exciting seeing him on his ship yesterday—witnessing all the stories you heard about the Mandalorians coming alive. You remember how you laughed with Zullu when you ran away from him. But today … everything is different. Zullu is gone and you—despite knowing you shouldn't because it’s unreasonable—blame him as well. You blame yourself for not being able to save Zullu, and the Mandalorian for starting the fight with the bandits in the first place.

Lost in your thoughts, you walk to Zullu’s hut. You hesitate a little before you enter.

Zullu’s mother is kneeling next to the chest that belonged to her daughter—clutching to one of Zullu’s dresses—weeping.

You silently approach her and sit next to her on the floor.

She turns to you to hug you.

“I’m so sorry,” you let out on the verge of crying again. “I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s not your fault,” she says and pulls you closer.

“... She was so brave ...” You need to say it, you need to let her mother know that Zullu died honorably.

“I know.” 

She reaches inside the chest and takes out a piece of clothing. “Here ...” She extends her hands towards you. She’s holding a light brown, slightly worn leather jacket—it’s Zullu’s.

“No.” You gently push her hands away. “I can’t take it. It’s her favourite—”

“She would have liked you to have it.”

For a beat you just stare at the jacket wordlessly.

“Thank you,” you say, not knowing what else to say as you take the jacket from her.

“Zullu said … you knew my parents.” You’re hesitant and it comes out more like a question.

“Yes,” she breathes out. “I was here when they brought you to the village.” And then, she tells you the whole story about the day when you were left with the villagers.

“... So my father stole something from the Empire and ran.”

“Yes, I don’t know what it was though … You have to understand that your parents left you here to protect you, spare you from the constant running and hiding.”

“I want to find them,” you say eventually, looking at the jacket that you’re clenching in your fists.

“No.” She shakes her head. “You have to stay here—safe—with us. Your parents didn’t want you to come looking for them, they feared someone might capture you, use you to get to your father. 

“But I have no idea where he is …”

“The Empire doesn't know that … they would torture you.” She looks seriously worried now. 

You want to push her, want to know more. Zullu said her mother knew where your parents were hiding. Yet … you can’t. Not now. Not on the day of her daughter’s funeral.

“You look tired … should get more sleep … be ready for the evening,” she says after a moment of silence. “I’ll see you on the hill.”

You nod and leave without a word.

On your way back you catch sight of the Mandalorian. He’s leaning against one of the huts—his legs and arms crossed—his visor following you as you walk by.

What’s his problem? You’re definitely getting irritated by him constantly gazing at you. Especially since you can’t see his face or guess what he’s thinking. Is he still pissed about the ship?

Even now—in what you imagine is a comfortable stance for him—he’s still threatening as hell. He looks like a bescar vulture that has spotted a womp rat and is now circling around it, waiting for the right moment to strike.

You consciously choose to ignore him and thus deny him the pleasure of seeing how nervous he makes you feel. 

The tension is unbearable though. You can’t help but glance in his direction when you reach your hut.

What the …? 

He’s gone.

“Creep,” you say to yourself, checking your surroundings before you enter.

***

Someone is shaking your shoulder. You wake up instantly. 

Zullu’s mother is leaning over you. “It’s time …”

The sun is setting as you walk up the hill where the funeral takes place. 

The pyre is prepared and Zullu's body is already lying on top of it. No one says anything. This is how it goes in your village—no speeches, no pompous ceremonies. Zullu’s mother lights the pyre and the whole village stands in complete silence, watching. 

“One day, we’ll walk among the stars together,” you whisper as you raise your vision towards the night sky.

When you look down again—

He’s gotta be fuckin’ kidding … 

The Mandalorian is standing opposite to you—behind the pyre. 

That does it!

You can’t be sure whether he’s watching you or the pyre in front of him but you don’t care. You have to ask what his deal is. You need to know what exactly he’s doing on this planet—

“I’m sorry.” Zullu’s mother is now standing beside you. 

“Excuse me?” You look at her with raised eyebrows.

“I shouldn’t have kept it from you for all those years. Maybe ... it’s really time for you to find them.” Her voice is quiet, eyes gleaming—reflecting the fire. “They might still be alive. You deserve to see them again.”

“But … h-how do I find them?”

“Go to the planet Hoth. There should be a Rebel base. If they are still on that planet, they would be there.”

“Thank you,” you say and lay a hand on her shoulder.

Hoth. You’ve never heard of such a planet. Your parents are most probably very far away, yet you feel them being closer than ever before. You’ve been trying most of your life to forget about them, accept the present and not dwell on the past. But now? Now when you know where your parents could be, you can’t continue living your life in the village, can you? 

No, you can’t. 

Okay, how do you get out of this planet …  

Then it strikes you—the Mandalorian!

You look in the direction where he was standing.

Not again …

A group of men is standing where the Mandalorian was just a couple of minutes ago.

You rush towards them. “Um ... have you seen the Mandalorian?” you ask.

“No,” some of them say while others just shake their heads. 

A little hand by your side tugs your sleeve. “He left,” the child says.

You lean closer to her. “Have you seen where he went?”

Your eyes follow a tiny finger pointing to … the lake.

He’s setting off … 

Okay, don’t panic. First things first.

You sprint to your hut, take your backpack and shove a couple of things you think you might need in—some credits, food, water bottle, and clean underwear of course.

You put on Zullu’s leather jacket and run out of the village towards the lake without looking back.

***

It’s dark outside but the forest is even darker. By the time you get to the lake you can barely see a couple of steps ahead of you. You trip and fall several times before you get to the clearing. You breathe heavily, your hands and clothes are dirty, and you’re positive there is mud and little twigs tangled in your hair.

Phew! … The ship is still here. 

Through the gap under the aircraft, you see two armoured boots. It seems that he’s doing some maintenance on the opposite side of the ship, meaning … he has not seen you yet.

You contemplate your options. Of course, you could approach him and ask him to take you with him. However, for some reason, you feel like he would not be compliant to fly you to Hoth. Moreover, there’s a good chance he’s still mad at you. So it’s decided.

Treading softly—as silently as possible—you sneak into the ship. Unnoticed. 

There’s a little … thingy lying on one of the crates and it’s flashing rapidly with red light. You get to the weapons locker to see it’s open. 

“Just in case …” You take one of the blasters and continue to the end of the hull. 

Where could you hide?

Yes, the boxes and crates conveniently stacked up by the wall will do perfectly. You hide in the space between the crates and cover yourself with some sort of canvas that you found folded in one of the boxes.

Let’s hope he won’t find you until you are far away from this planet. Then you can figure out the rest.

Yes, let’s … 

-----------------------------------------------

The Mandalorian finishes the work on his ship and is ready to hit the road. He walks up the ramp, puts his blaster in its place in the weapons locker—

One of the blasters is missing … 

He quickly looks around the hull and notices the tracking fob on the crate is flashing.

He cautiously presses something on the side of his helmet, turning on the thermal vision. He can see you now—sitting on the floor behind the crates, curled up. 

He takes his blaster from the cabinet and walks towards the crates to eventually stop in front of you. He raises his blaster, aiming at what he assumes is your head.

-------------------------------------------------

The canvas is abruptly pulled away and you blink at the armoured man standing in front of you. You could hear him coming and prepared your blaster, so you are now pointing your weapons at each other.

“You,” he utters but it sounds more like I knew it.

Obviously examining you, he tilts his helmet to the side, looks at the blaster in your hands, sighs, and puts his own weapon back in the holster.

“Take me to Hoth,” you command, suddenly emboldened by the fact that he is now unarmed.

 “No.”

The lack of emotion in his answer and its bluntness shock you. You expected him to protest but you’re now struggling to find the right words to continue.

To your surprise, he … he relaxes—transferring his weight to one foot—clearly anticipating what you’re going to do next.

“I have to get to Hoth to find my parents.” You try to play on his—quite possibly non-existent—feelings.

“I don’t take passengers,” he speaks again, his voice raspy.

You’re losing your patience. “Y-you’re going to take me to Hoth or else—”

“You’re gonna shoot me?” 

He’s taunting you ... You have your blaster aimed at him, trying to look as threatening as humanly possible, and he’s mocking you.

“Well … yes … I will shoot you and take your ship.”

“Try,” he enunciates slowly—leaning closer to you—his visor trained on your face.

He thinks, you’re not going to do it. After what you’ve been through in the past couple of days, you’re sure you could kill anyone who stands in your way, right? Right?

You put your other hand on the blaster too to steady yourself, and point the barrel at his chest.

An annoyed sigh comes out of the helmet. “You’re not stupid but you need to stop acting like you are … See this?”—he taps his chest plate with one fist—”Beskar … It would hurt, but won’t kill me … You want to aim at the gaps in the armour.”

Is he giving you advice about how to shoot him?

You lift your blaster so that it’s trained on his neck—covered only by his cape that is wrapped around it.

“Better …” he says. “Now shoot.”

What? Is he serious?

“I-I will …,” you warn but your voice deceives you, indicating you’re fucking scared right now, even though you are the one holding a blaster.

He takes a slow step towards you. As he moves closer, the barrel of your blaster digs into his cape until you can feel his neck pressed against it.

“Shoot me.”

You hesitate.

“Shoot!” he shouts.

Your whole body is quivering.

You … can’t do it. You can’t kill an unarmed man.

Your grip around the weapon eases and you slowly start to lower the blaster.

Before you can do so, his hand shoots up, catches your wrist and you can feel your finger being pushed against the trigger with his. 

He pulled the trigger! He pulled the fucking—

But …

Nothing happens. The blaster doesn’t shoot.

“Next time you try to kill me with my own blaster, at least turn the safety off,” he grunts at you, ripping the weapon out from your hands.

“Wait …” you’re still trying to process what happened.

“Go home,” he says coldly and turns away from you to put the blaster back in the cabinet, grumbling something about an insult.

Before you can think of a better reaction, you push his armoured back with all the strength you can currently muster. 

Considering how well-built he is, his chest moving by an inch at most came as no surprise.

Oops … 

He stops and turns to look at you, slowly tilting his head sideways a little. Did you really just do that, the silent gesture says.

You are quite thankful that you can’t see his—most definitely furious—face right now. You would swear you can hear him grinding his teeth under his helmet. It was stupid … and you really don’t know why you did it. You’re perfectly aware that you are throwing a tantrum like a child right now.

And he treats you as such in return. 

He grabs you by your upper arm, drags you through the hull and shoves you down the ramp, out of the ship with ferocious force. You have to make a couple of clumsy steps forward to prevent yourself from falling over.

He turns to shut the hatch. 

“Please!” you hear yourself pleading to stop him, tears now flooding your eyes. It’s pathetic. “I … I p-promised her … promised her to find out wha—” You hesitate for a second. “I need to find my parents.”

He sighs. 

“Look …” he says eventually, his voice considerably softer than before. “I’m sorry about your friend, okay? But trust me, it’ll be safer for you here.”

Oh no … the rage is back. “Trust you?” you cry out. “It’s your fault that she’s dead!”

“My fault?” He sounds genuinely confused.

“If you didn’t stalk us back to the village and play a hero—”

“Me? … I wasn't the one to spit in that guy’s face. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be dead now!”

“And she would live!” your voice cracks with grief as you yell.

He takes a couple of steps forward, grabs your shoulders, yanks you closer to him so that your nose is practically touching his visor, and shakes you in an attempt to knock some sense into you, “Do you think they would stop there, huh? Do you think they wouldn’t massacre half the village after that?”

“Well, if you had let me take that blaster instead of pawing me—” you snark at him.

He immediately lets go of your shoulders as if scalded and takes a step back.

“—I could have protected them ...” you finish.

“Yeah …,” he chuckles darkly, mocking you again, “… sure … I’d like to see you kill thirty armed men with the safety on ...” He turns and starts climbing the ramp back to his ship.

“Well, fuck you!” you yell after him. “If you won’t help me, I’m sure I can find another ship that would take me out of this planet!”

“Good luck with that,” he utters, his tone ice-cold.

Suddenly, a laser blast strikes the ground just a few feet from you. You duck and try to spot what caused it.

A small starship flies over your head.

Someone is shooting at you.

“… To the ship …” The Mandalorian shouts to you.

You quickly run into his ship and he closes the hatch. Before you can ask about what’s happening, he’s already climbing the ladder up to the cockpit.

You follow him.

He sits in the pilot's chair pushing various buttons as the ship rumbles and takes off.

“Sit down and fasten your seatbelt,” he exclaims without looking at you.

You stand behind him, gaping out the cockpit window trying to spot the attacking ship again.

“Who was—”

A laser beam hits the ship. You are tossed sideways and against the wall, knocking yourself unconscious.

The Mandalorian turns his head to look at you, growls and steers his ship so that it now flies directly against the little starship. He readjusts his hands on the control sticks and inhales deeply.

“This is more than I signed up for.”

***

Chapter 1 //   Chapter 2  //  Masterlist

[mandochlorian]

don’t fight me (ben solo x reader)

summary: compared to Rey or Ben, you feel kinda useless. one day, before a mission, ben tries to help you with something and you lash out at him. though you regret it, you’re too proud to apologise - much like you’re too proud to accept help when you need it.

general masterlist

star wars masterlist

There’s a mix of anticipation and fear in the air, you can sense it. And rightly so - the mission sounds promising from how Ben and Rey describe it. You stand by Finn, amongst the crowd of Rebels who look to the podium. The pair stand side by side, looking like the poster children for the Resistance. Some distance behind them stands Han and Leia, who watch their legacy in front of their very eyes. They talk through the mission, though it’s simple. Infiltrate the empire loyalists, capture command bases and push them back. 

You can’t help but feel burdened by a feeling. But you can’t quite pinpoint it. Finn nudges you. “I have a good feeling about this,” he smiles, turning to you but keeping his eyes on Rey, “With them as our leaders, we can do anything. The empire’s resurgence doesn’t stand a chance.”

You don’t say anything, you just give him a nod, wishing that comment didn’t make you feel... pointless. Why are you even here? Just to stay back on base and wait until Ben and Rey come back, triumphant, giving smiles and shaking hands? Nothing about that feels like a win. You want to be doing something more. And it’s not about glory or being rewarded for it. You don’t care about the fame or popularity that Ben and Rey have amongst the Resistance. It’s just that you... you have this feeling. This feeling that you have so much more to offer. You have to. Right? 

“For the Resistance!” And the crowd disperses. 

With a sigh, you trod off to your work station. This can’t be all there is. Seeing your vacant expression and slumped shoulders, Ben narrows his eyes. He can feel the doubt and shame radiating off of you, and he follows.

The computer monitor in front of you makes your chest sink. Boring. “What’s wrong?” Ben inquires, appearing behind you. You turn, letting a breath out when you see it’s him. “Your thoughts are so loud.” He continues, giving you a concerned look, but he turns to the computer you sit at, “Are there any updates on security?” 

Bless him, he doesn’t even realise how horrible you feel. Tearing your eyes from his inquisitive ones, you log into the computer. “No,” you respond, “everything seems normal.”

“Seems normal?” Ben cringes slightly, you look up at him, “We need to know for sure that nothing has changed. It could mean they know we’re going to attack.” He explains, as if you don’t already know this. 

You let out a short sigh, parting your lips but trying to hide your true frustration. Yeah, I know how to do my job. Ben frowns, hearing you. “What?” Ben tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. He didn’t really catch what you thought, but he could hear the hint of annoyance in your tone.

“I’ve been doing this for years,” you look up at him, meeting his confused eyes, “You don’t need to explains anything to me. I know what I’m doing.”

Ben’s big lips part, he’s kind of stunned. He didn’t realise you took it that way. There’s no way he’d ever doubt you or your skills. You’re beyond intelligent, hard-working, kind, you’re capable. Ben knows this. He lowers his voice, seeing you typing away on the computer rapidly, “I didn’t mean it like that, baby, I just-”

“Nothing to report, sir,” you cut him off, shaking your head as you stare blankly at the screen. His silence in the air feels palpable. “Nothing has changed. I’m one hundred percent sure.”

He doesn’t really know what to do. You’re his first girlfriend, his first love, and you’re his best friend. But he doesn’t want to push you. Though he really wants to know what he did. 

Ben gives you a look, before he sifts through your emotions like a catalogue. Hurt. “What did I do?” He whispers, rushing through your negative feelings, Annoyance. Frustration. Jealous. Alone. “Why are you upset with me?” Ben wonders helplessly. 

“I’m not.” 

“You’re being short with me.”

“It may come as a shock to you, Ben,” You give him a smile, standing from your station, “But not everything is about you, surprisingly!” You brush past him, ignoring the rebels at the computers beside you who listen to your lovers quarrel. 

He pauses. He frowns. “What?” Ben follows you closely as you weave through all the people, “W-Wait. Y/N, come on!” He’s so focused on not pushing anyone over or knocking anyone down, and trying to follow where you’re quickly heading to, “Talk to me!” Ben doesn’t feel the dread and self-hate flowing through you, bringing tears to your eyes, “What’s wrong with you?” He shouts, stopping by the hallway to the dorms.

You halt, your shoulders tensing. Ben watches, frown lines prominent between his eyebrows. “I want to be alone.” 

“No,” Ben shakes his head, walking up to you, “You don’t.” He looks down at you, seeing you clutch your keycard in one hand as you try not to cry. “You can’t hide from me.”

You cross your arms, “You wouldn’t get it,” you admit, shaking your head at him.

“Try me.” Ben responds, noticing your growing anxiety. “Hey, hey. Breathe.” He soothes you, staring down at you, “Breathe.” 

It annoys you that he’s so good to you. So kind. Caring. He loves you. And you can’t help but think about yourself; about your problems. He’s about to lead a mission for stars sake. The thought grips your heart, making you feel even worse. “Leave me alone,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut, “I just want to be alone.” 

Ben clenches his teeth. Wanting, more than ever, to ignore your request and find out what’s wrong. He knows you want him to go but he can’t shake the feeling that’s telling him to stay. “You never think I can help you but I know I can,” Ben admits, taking a step closer to you, “I can help you.” Watching you stare at the ground, Ben moves closer to you and whispers, “Baby, let me help you. Please.” He goes to place a hand on yours.

“Ben, I don’t need your help!” You raise your voice, gripping the card tighter in your hand. When you look up at him, you can’t help but feel the anger combine with guilt and regret. “I’m not useless! I don’t need you to hold my hand whenever something goes wrong, alright? There’s nothing wrong with me, I don’t need help. Just leave me alone!” 

Ben’s brown eyes are wide as he takes a step back, his hand up in the air as he moves away from you. “Okay, okay,” he whispers back gently, moving away from you, “I love you, okay?” Ben’s voice is soft, barely even there. And all you can do is stare at the ground, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to stop crying. Ben just nods, takes in a deep breath, and he leaves.

You slump against the door to your room, leaning on it for support while the tears begin to halt. It takes a while. The watch on your wrist beeps, alerting you to the amount of time that’s passed. You hadn’t even realised how much time you had spent in this hallway alone. 

Wiping under your eyes, you sniff loudly, standing up straighter and heading down the hall. You don’t bother hiding the remnants of your tears because you know no ones looking at you anyways. 

When you sit at your desk, starting the computer up, you have to refresh it once or twice, you have to blink your eyes a few times, you have to see what you’re seeing a few times just so you know you’re no hallucinating. The security on the loyalists has... shifted. Slightly. It could be nothing. It’s not nothing, you can sense it.

“Mira,” you look beside you, “How long since the Falcon left base?”

“Almost like 10 minutes?” She answers back hesitantly, “They should arrive at the destination... now. Why?”

You rise quickly, pushing your chair out and sprinting to the hangar bay. Mira frowns before looking down to your screen. Her features change in realisation. “Poe! Dameron!” You shout, looking around at the bustling bay. There are people everywhere, clad in bright orange, “Poe! Poe Dameron!” You scream louder, jumping when you feel a pair of hands on your shoulder.

“What’s the deal?” He asks hurriedly, taking his hands away from you, “I was about to leave.” 

“The west gate security changed, they’ve updated the lower level and enabled a shock-wall between the last command p-”

Poe shakes his head at your jargon, eyes focused and distressed, “What’s it mean?”

Your lips are parted. You only now come to the realisation. “They won’t make it to the last post. They’ll be trapped in the base. They’ll all die.” You never replied to Ben, you never said you loved him back. 

Poe calls someone over, telling them to communicate this to the Rebel soldiers. The response is that it’s too late, they’re already inside. Turning back to you, the pilot studies you, “How do we disable the wall?” 

“I... I don’t...” You fumble around.

“What is it? Come on.” Poe urges you.

“You wouldn’t get it, even if I explained it a hundred times. No offence.” You run a hand over your face, frowning at yourself. You should’ve been at your station. You should’ve focused on the mission.

“Strap in. Helmet on.” Poe orders you, heading to a large ship and handing you an orange helmet, “Quickly!”

“I’m just a... I can’t go on field.” 

Poe opens the ships hatch before clicking his helmet into place, “Yes, you can.” He assures you, giving you higher clearance. You give a quick nod, shoving the helmet onto your head and sitting in the passenger seat of the fighter. “I’ll lead you to the wall,” Poe continues, double taking you to fix your placed helmet, “We get in, disable it, reach the command post with the others, and get out. Got it?” He places a blaster on your lap, placing his seatbelt on as the ceiling above opens up. The ship roars to life. You say nothing. You take the blaster in your hand. Your fragile, shaky hand. The hand that’s only ever dealt with computers, never weapons. “Got it?” Poe turns to you.

“Got it.” You nod quickly. 

“Good job, by the way.” A small smile stretches across Poe’s face as he looks at you, before the ship shoots into hyperspace, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

In an instant, there are shots being fired at the fighter. The whole thing shakes. You grip onto your blaster, looking out at the battlefield. They all look like ants from up here. There are tie fighters zooming in the air, shooting down at the impeding x-wings. “Oh, it’s gonna be a rough one!” Poe shouts, clenching his teeth as he pulls down on the steering mechanism, sending the ship hurtling towards the ground and away from the tie fighter blasts.

The ships doors open. The sounds coming from the battlefield intensify. When Poe takes his helmet off, you fumble to do the same, unstrapping your seatbelt too. With your medium sized blaster in your hand, you jump from the seat of the ship and look at Poe for guidance. Jumping back, a blaster dings the metal of the ship beside your head. 

You turn, seeing a man wearing stark, white armour. Lifting your hand up, you pull the trigger on your blaster. The next shot sends him to the floor. Poe is beside you. He pulls your gun from you, flicking a switch and giving it back to you. “Okay, great, safety’s off now.” He confirms, stalking by the wall and heading forward. 

You follow him, watching him shoot down the soldiers that cross him. You fee grateful for him, he knows you must be freaking out. He also knows you’ve never shot anyone... never killed anyone. That’s what being on the battlefield is all about. There’s a large metal structure sticking up from the asphalt, with a glowing red symbol painted on it. There’s a group of people standing on it, spread out and facing the white armoured troopers on the ground. A rebel standing on the structure types away at the panel that’s there, looking back at the troopers trying to stop her. 

Poe shoots down some troopers, getting their attention. The sound of something buzzing become louder. The troopers freeze, glued to their spots on the ground. The Resistance keep shooting, sending them to the ground with their blaster shots. Ben, his hand outstretched, blue lightsaber ignited, marches towards you with wide eyes. 

“Ben,” you breathe, feeling relief flood you.

“I came as soon as I sensed you,” Ben responds seriously, a frown imbedded on his face, “What’s going on?” He looks to Poe, who goes to explain himself but then looks to you.

“They knew about the attack. They’ve enabled a shock-wall, there’s no getting out of here unless I disable it.” You admit to Ben, speaking quickly and rushed. 

He bites his tongue, wanting to act out in frustration but he just looks down at you. 

“Solo!” Someone calls out, “We’ve captured the second last base!” 

“Good work,” Ben calls back, giving them a triumphant expression, "One more to go!” 

The rebels cheer, heading off to the large building where the last post must be. In the distance, you see Rey, lightsaber in hand, leading rebels into the building and fighting the loyalists. “Poe, get in your x-wing. We need you up there.” Ben nods, he and Poe giving one another a nod before he heads off. 

Ben grips your arm, pulling you in front of him so that your back is pressed against his front. His lightsaber is in front of your face, shielding you from the onslaught of shots coming from a stray trooper. Ben reaches a hand out, pulling the attacker ten feet forward. He doesn’t move again from his position on the ground. 

Ben turns his lightsaber off, quickly pulling you behind a crate. You both crouch down. Ben takes the smaller blaster form your hand, tucking it in the back of your pants. He positions the large one in your hands properly, putting your finger on the trigger, “Don’t be afraid,” Ben looks into your eyes.

“I’m-”

“It’s you or them,” Ben cuts you off, his hand pressed against yours on the weapon. He taps on the blaster. “Don’t be afraid.” 

You give him a nod, not saying another word. He sucks in a deep breath, looking at you. You’re practically wearing office clothes, there’s no armour in it at all. He tries not to think about it. “Okay.” He whispers uncertain, gazing at you before he stands up straighter. “Follow me.”

Scanning the area, Ben lets out another breath knowing there are no troopers out on the tarmac. They’ve all retreated to the main building. At the entrance stands a large map. Ben stands behind you, his eyes always gazing around to make sure you’re safe. You’ve never seen him like this. 

“Where to?” He asks, turning back to you and the map.

You snap awake, looking at the detailed map. “Uh... We’re on ground level... the wall is... Okay, follow me.” 

Ben stretches his hand out, stopping you. “I’m leading. Where to?”

“By the inner tie fighter bay, level three C.” You answer, watching as he gives you an expressionless nod. You follow him down the corridor without a second guess, your blaster in your hand at your side. Quickly, you join a group of Rebels, fighting off some troopers. Ben stumbles back, out of the gunfire. A man falls to the floor at your feet. You tear your eyes away from him, seeing Ben crouching. He runs past the hall, lightsaber in his hand. When he reaches the room, his lightsaber is ignited. The rebels, seemingly knowing the drill, follow Ben as he begins to fight the troopers one by one. He’s expert, killing swiftly and quickly. The room is cleared. 

You stand there, useless, following Ben again. Looking to the side, you see a notice board. “Ben!”

He snaps back to look at you, eyes filled with worry. 

“Stairs.” You gesture, holding the door open. Ben races into the stairwell, and you both begin your march upward, to level three C. From behind you, you hear footsteps. Narrowing your eyes, you aim your blaster down the stairs. At the first sight of white armour, you pull the trigger, not stopping until the trooper falls to the ground. 

Looking up to Ben, your eyes are a little wide. But you did it. Stars, you did it... you’re not sure how to feel and-

“Come on.” Ben demands, pulling you along by your arm. You rush up the stairs, feeling your heart race and your breath become shorter, “Three C.” Ben announces, “Clear.”

“Wh-”

“Follow me.” He dismisses you, heading towards the sliding doors.

“Wait!” You pull him back by his shirt, seeing him frown at you.

“What?” He snaps, turning back to you, “What is it?” He asks, blinking at you.

You pause, your lips parted but nothing comes out until his face softens with regret, “This... This level shouldn’t be clear,” you admit, looking away from his eyes, “It’s meant to be flooding with troopers.”

Realisation crosses Ben’s face. He swallows the lump in his throat, a small, hateful smile making its way to his lips. “They’re waiting for us to go in to disable it.” Ben nods, licking his lips slightly. He’s thinking, you can tell. 

“Even if we go in, find the room, and disable the wall,” you tell him, “They’d be waiting for you by the time we finished.”

Ben nods, standing up straighter, “So it’s a chance we take.”

“What?”

“You have to disable this thing.” He admits, searching your eyes.

“They’ll kill you.”

“I’ll be fin-”

“They’ll kill you!” 

“Hands up!” You snap to the stairs, seeing three troopers all with their blasters aimed at you and Ben. Your own blaster stays in your hand as you freeze. “Now!” The man yells again. 

You look at Ben, who shrugs before lifting his hands in the air like the trooper says. You drop your weapon, raising your hands too. Pausing, the Trooper looks disorientated and when he places a hand over his throat, you realise why. He coughs, dropping his weapon. 

The other two troopers look at one another, confusion written on their helmets. You and Ben both put your hands down and you see Ben’s hand shakes. Quickly picking up your blaster, you shoot down one of the troopers as Ben pushes the other one down the stairwell. They hit the wall with such force, it leaves cracks in the wall.

Turning to Ben, you look up at his brown eyes. He makes eye contact with you, swallowing the lump in his throat as he releases his clenched fist, making the trooper fall to the ground too. “Back to arguing.” Ben states, so cocky it makes your eyes roll.

Looking down at the troopers, you get an idea. Crouching down, you begin pulling the armour from one of the men. Ben watches you, tilting his head at your plan. Silently, he crouches beside you and does the same to another trooper.

Glancing at him, you see his concerned expression. “Ben, the Resistance needs you, you’re getting out of here in one piece. Alright? You’re not invincible.” You admit to him as you take your shoes off to change into the white armour, “One man can’t obliterate an entire army... Not even if that man is you.”

A small smirk pulls at his lips as he whispers, “I could do it.” He looks at you, seeing you struggling with one of the knee shields. Placing his armour down, Ben kneels before you to adjust your armour on properly. 

“I’m sorry.” You admit to him, rushed and full of regret, “I’m sorry I snapped at you like that back on base, you didn’t deserve it. You don’t deserve any of my stupid shit... ever.” 

Ben looks up at you, finished with your armour. “If it hurts you, then it’s not stupid. Whatever it is.” He moves to his own armour and you put your shoes back on. “I just want you to know you’re not alone. You’re never alone, you don’t have to be.”

Lifting the helmet, you rest it on your hip, “I’m sorry, I just feel like...” You struggle, cringing at the floor as you avoid his eyes as he stands, “I’m kind of useless,” you begin, biting the inside of your cheek. Ben says nothing. “I feel like I’m making no contribution at all. I don’t want to be wasting my life for nothing.”

Useless. Ben thinks it over. He’s familiar with the feeling. “Look at where you are,” he notes, staring down at you, “we’re here to save our soldiers; our people.”

Sucking a breath in, you place the helmet over your head, avoiding the topic any further. This could all go wrong. Then what? It would have all been for nothing. Ben holds back a sigh, feeling shut out once again. But he puts his helmet on, hating the way it feels. He can barely see. Great. 

“Follow my lead,” he says to you, gun at his side and lightsaber hidden in the back of his pants beneath the armour. You do so, standing up straight with your weapon in your hands in front of you. Eyes wide as you pass other troopers who don’t give you a word or even so much as a glance. Ben stops abruptly, turning to a room with a large label over the door. “Here.” He whispers to you, glancing back at the hallway. Empty. It makes you feel an uneasy chill run up your spine. 

The doors slide open and when you both enter, he stands by it. Taking your helmet off, you set it on the floor and begin to look around. There are large monitors everywhere, littered with blinking lights everywhere. Sitting on the chair, you read the first line of code above the login credentials. What kind of program is this? It looks decades old. You’ve briefly studied these but you’ve never used one. 

“If this is anything like what we have, this should be easy.” You tell Ben, beginning to use common command hacks to let yourself into the database and get into the security details. 

“And if it’s not?” Ben wonders, taking his helmet off before looking to you.

“If not, we blow up this room.” You suggest to him, glancing at him with a small smile.

He smiles back, giving you a shrug, “It would be easier.” 

“I don’t know,” you respond, unconvincingly, “this whole thing seems too easy.” You hear Ben hum in agreement. And almost like the universe was listening to you, the big doors slide open. Immediately, Ben begins shooting troopers down, hiding behind a computer monitor that blocks you from the doors path. 

“Still easy now?” Ben asks you, recharging his blaster before peering out to shoot again. Your heart is beating loudly in your chest, making you dizzy as you try to hack in. It’s not working. Nothing’s working. 

As a last resort, you stand up, using all your force to kick the monitor down to the floor. The back metal sheet cracks on impact with the ground, and you kick it once more to get rid of the back of the overheated computer. You hear Ben ignite his saber, twirling it and deflecting shots as he steps out into the open to defeat the growing number of troopers. 

Eyeing the cords and lights at the back of the monitor, you attempt to remember the backup protocol. It was put in place in old systems in case things failed. In newer models, there’s less room for failure. They program the backup into the system, instead of it being an external feature. If Ben weren’t so busy saving your asses, he’d tell you that you need a hobby. 

There’s a small numbered panel. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to remember the standard code for these models. “Come on,” you grunt, pressing your teeth together. You hear Ben grunt in pain, but his lightsaber continues swinging, “Come on!” 

Model 1209. Coruscant. Heavy weight modum 30-S. Manufacturing number 9529.

You try both four digit numbers from the inscription of the monitor. Nothing. “Come on!” You shout, slamming your fist into the dumb thing. 

Model 1209... You think, reading over the inscription. Ben slams his back against a monitor, out of breath, sweaty, lightsaber by his side. “You got it?” He asks, breathless.

“I...” You look at him, his hopeful eyes, “I think so.” Model 1209. 30-S. Manufacturing... 9529. “What’s... Ben, what’s 1,179 times... 9,529?”

“Huh?”

“Come on!” You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to think against the sound of blaster shots.

“Baby, you were always the smart one.” Ben admits, seeing you slumped over the monitor as gunfire hits the back wall. “You’ve got this. I know you do.”

You type the number in, your fingers shaking. This is your last resort. Other than this, you have no other options. There’s nothing else you can think of. The monitor beeps. You pause, staring at it with wide eyes. Suddenly, an alarm blares throughout the building, shaking your eardrums.

Quickly, you crawl towards Ben. He holds his arms open to you, his saber held up high as you both hide behind the monitor. The gunfire... it decreases. You hear it die down. With his gun, Ben pokes his head around, shooting down a few troopers. This goes on for a while. 

Then, he sits beside you, looking down at you. Neither of you know if this worked. His chest is rising and falling rapidly as he takes you in his arms gently. Pushed up against his neck, you embrace him tightly. “Ben,” you mumble, hoping he hears you over the alarm, “Ben.”

“Yeah?” He asks, gently, looking down at you, “You okay?”

“I love you,” you admit to him, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Ben’s eyes gaze into yours for a moment, his cheeks heating up bashfully before a smile breaks onto his face. “I love you too.” He responds, his warm hand coming up to your cheek. Ben pulls your chin close to his face slowly, his brown eyes staring you down as the gesture leaves you breathless. 

“We interrupting something, kid?” 

You pull away from Ben, looking up to see Han standing there, Chewie by his side as they stare down at you. “The wall’s down?” Is all you say, your eyes wide and hopeful, “It worked?”

Reaching out a hand, Han gives you a confident smile. “It worked.” He helps you up, then placing his hand on his hip - much to Ben’s dismay, who had to stand up on his own. 

“What’re you doing here?” Ben wonders, looking between his dad and Chewie, who lets out a roar.

“We heard about the complication,” Han begins, putting his blaster back in his holder as he heads towards the door, “Knew you’d need help, so we got the best to come out. Here we are.” Han raises his eyebrows at his son, who lets out a small laugh.

Outside, the stormtroopers left are being rounded up by Resistance members; no doubt on their way to prison for various crimes. The air of anticipation has dissipated, now all that’s left is victory. You look to Ben, who walks beside you, Han and Chewie leading you out of the base. You see him looking around, examining the area before his eyes land on you and soften.

“I’m proud of you.” He smiles, grabbing your hand and leaning closer to you as you both walk, “I mean, I always am, but... we wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.” 

“I don’t know, I-”

“I know you feel like you contribute nothing but it isn’t true,” Ben stops, turning to stand in front of you, “You work the hardest, you’re the smartest, you don’t give yourself enough credit.” 

“I would’ve died out here if you weren’t by my side.”

“And everyone would’ve died if it weren’t for you.” Ben responds quickly, “You’re remarkable, I wish you’d let yourself see that. I mean, 2,019 multiplied by 3,700?”

“I don’t think those were the num-”

“You know what I mean!” He exclaims with a smile, placing either hand on your arms, “You’re amazing. You saved everyone.”

“This is all just going to my head, you realise that, right?” You tease, giving him a smirk.

Ben hums, “You can be the cocky one in the relationship for once, then.”

“Then what will you be?” You laugh.

“The one who won’t accept help from the other,” Ben jokes, letting out a laugh afterwards.

“Oh!” You laugh, nodding, “Very funny, you’re a funny man, huh? Who knew.”

Ben laughs, leaning in to press his lips to your forehead, “Only joking, baby, only joking.”

"Come on, kid!” Han calls out from the steps of the Falcon. Rubbing your arm gently, Ben gives you a smile before you both head for the falcon, hand in hand.

[starbornvalkyrie]

what we could be | part two

what we could be masterlist

Breathe. 

Breathe.

Brea--

Aelin retched again, unsure whether it was morning sickness or fear. Probably a little bit of both. Lysandra just held her hair and rubbed her back.

After a few minutes of silence, Aelin whispers, “Now, what do I do, Lys?” 

“Well, you don’t need to make any decisions right now. I’ll set up the guest room for you so you can sleep off some of this initial shock, yeah? Then tomorrow you and I can figure it out.” Aelin leaned against Lysandra's chest, unable to dull the roaring in her brain. “This time, Aelin, you are not alone. I will be with you every step of the way. Do you want to tell Aedion?”

That brought her to her senses a little bit, and she shook her head. “Not yet. Maybe once the initial shock has passed. One thing I don’t need right now is Aedion turning into a territorial Army bastard and booking the first flight to Wendlyn to beat Rowan to a pulp.” 

Lysandra laughed. “Okay, sweetheart. Let’s get you a shower and then I’ll find some food for you to eat. Maybe some soup?”

“Let’s try tomato? I make no promises, though.” Aelin stood up and turned on the shower. Lysandra waited until Aelin was safely inside before leaving to find some tomato soup.

Left alone with her thoughts, Aelin let the water flow through her hair, down her back and face. She didn’t even know where to start, so she allowed herself to stand there and think of nothing. She allowed herself this shower to be numb, if just for a moment, because the fire in her heart was already burning.

Aelin didn’t know how to be a mother. She didn’t know much about pregnancy. Being an only child, she never had to babysit. What vitamins is she supposed to take? What if she has a boy?  She didn’t know what was going to happen with her senior thesis now.

She doesn’t know what Rowan will say, and that thought causes the most panic. She focuses on what she does know, instead.

She isn’t religious, but she knows abortion is not an option. She knows what happened to her own parents was unavoidable--a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time--but after Arobynn, she knows she will not subject this child to adoption. She knows that she doesn’t know anything about parenting.

But she’s going to learn.

Even if she had to do it alone.

The fire in her heart burned even brighter with the thought. Growing up, she was always passionate about what she did, from learning the piano to Tae Kwon Do. Her mother called her Fireheart for a reason.

When her parents died, she worried about her fire, her will, going out. But it must have been some innate force that kept it alive. Even when she was scared for her life in foster care, her fire never extinguished. It was the only thing she had to fuel her determination to make it out of there in one piece.

All her life, Aelin’s heart burned only for herself.

But not anymore.

Aelin allowed herself the shower to cry her shock away. Here, standing in the scalding spray, will she be weak and selfish for the last time. When she steps out of the shower, she’s going to sit down and make a plan and move on with her life. Whatever that means from here on out, she will do whatever it takes to make a life for her unborn baby.

Forty-five minutes later, Aelin walks into Lysandra’s kitchen wearing a pair of borrowed sweatpants and a shirt that says “Army” on the chest. She can only assume her cousin left it behind.

A glass of water, a bottle of Gatorade, and a bowl of basil tomato soup with bread on the side were already waiting for her. Lysandra was preparing something for herself at the stove. Before she sat down at the kitchen island, Aelin walked up to her friend and hugged her from behind.

Lysandra fiddled with something in the pan for a minute before turning off the burner and turning around to wrap Aelin in her arms.

Neither woman said anything for a few minutes. Aelin took in a deep breath and pulled away.

She waited until they were both seated at the table before speaking. “I’m going to keep the baby. I don’t know what that means with my relationship with Rowan, whether he wants to be a part of their life and mine. But no matter what, they will not be given up.”

“I support you completely with everything you decide. Do you know how you’re going to tell Rowan? Or when? He isn’t due back here until the end of the semester. I don’t want to push you, but by then, you might be showing already. Everyone will know, which means there’s a good chance he’ll find out from someone who isn’t you.”

Aelin nodded. “I know, I know. I did think about that already. I was thinking of telling him after my first doctor’s appointment? Once it’s confirmed and I have some sort of idea how to move forward medically, I’ll be a little more comfortable with explaining the situation to him.”

“Okay, that’s a great idea. Do you want to call and make an appointment now? The clinic should still be open.”

Aelin agreed and went to grab her phone. She was surprised to see so many notifications, she doesn’t have that many people she talks to on a regular basis. When she unlocked her phone to see who had been calling and texting her, her heart sank. It was already 4:30 in the afternoon, and she was supposed to meet Chaol at 4.

With furrowed brows that caused a look of confusion to appear on Lysandra’s face, she texted Chaol. The last text from him asked, Is everything okay?

She replied, I am so sorry. I felt awful after class today so I ran to a friend’s house. I’ve had my head stuck in the toilet for most of the day since then, I didn’t have my phone on me.

He didn’t take long to type a response. It’s okay, that’s understandable. Do you need me to pick anything up for you?

Aelin groaned at what a sweetheart he was and said, My friend Lysandra is on duty right now and is currently shoving soup down my throat as we speak, but thank you. Let’s take a rain check on that coffee?

I’d love that. Let me know if you need anything, and we’ll definitely talk when you feel better. I’ll do my best to get a copy of the notes in class for you in case you need to take the rest of the week off. Feel better, Aelin!

Aelin put down her phone and dropped her face to her hands. “I feel so terrible,” she said.

Lysandra’s mouth was full, but Aelin understood her when she asked what happened. She explained who Chaol was and how she was going to finally put herself back out there and go on a date. “But now I don’t know how to let him down easy without spilling my guts to him. Should I still reschedule?”

Her friend chewed and thought for a second. “I think you can get coffee with him, but after your appointment and after you tell Rowan. At that point, you should be able to figure out what information to give him. If anything, you can still be his friend.”

Satisfied with that answer, Aelin picked up her phone again to call the clinic. She put it on speaker for Lysandra to hear. A receptionist with a sweet voice named Evangeline asked her for some basic information to book her appointment.

“I do believe we are all set, Ms. Galathynius. I have you down for this Friday at 10AM. Since this is your first appointment for this pregnancy, we ask that you arrive at least thirty minutes in advance to fill out some paperwork and questionnaires. Will anyone be accompanying you?”

Aelin looked to Lysandra who nodded. “Yes, ma’am, a friend will be with me. Her name is Lysandra Ennar.”

“Sounds great, I will make sure she is on your approved list before you get here. We look forward to meeting with you, and congratulations!”

Aelin mumbled a thank you and hung up. Since Lysandra was the only one at this point to know she was pregnant, Aelin had yet to hear the word congratulations in regards to it. Evangeline sounded genuinely happy for her. It touched her a little more than it probably should. It gave her hope.

---

Friday morning came sooner than Aelin expected. The last day and a half were spent making lists and plans and researching. Aelin was really good at making lists and plans and researching.

Aelin was doing just that on her phone in the waiting room with Lysandra when the Medical Assistant called her back. Everyone was lit up with smiles when they saw her, and Aelin had to admit that eased her nerves.

They took her height, weight, and blood pressure, then instructed her to wait on the examination table for the doctor.

She and Lysandra were talking about how to tell Aedion about where they are this morning when there was a knock at the door and a beautiful woman with golden-brown skin and long, brown ringlets for hair walked in.

The woman shook both their hands and introduced herself as Dr. Yrene Towers. “It is a pleasure to meet you Ms. Galathynius, and I’m so excited for you on this journey. We’re going to go over the paperwork you filled out in the waiting room, and I also have a series of questions I have to ask you as well.”

Dr. Towers sat at the computer next to the table and began logging into it. “Let me pull up your chart, and if at any point you have any questions, feel free to interrupt me. Does that sound good?”

Aelin nodded. “Great! So first things first, this says your last period started the 20th of December, putting you at about nine weeks along. This gives you an expected due date of… September 25th! We’ll be able to get a more accurate date when we get an ultrasound.”

Aelin beamed at Lysandra and reached over to hold her hand.

“After today, we will see you every four weeks to monitor the baby’s growth, run blood tests, and talk about your overall well-being.”

The rest of the appointment was great, Aelin warmed up to Dr. Towers immediately. So much so that when she switched to the next subject, Aelin didn’t shy away in the way she thought she might.

“I noticed that you didn't fill out the questions regarding paternity. It’s not completely necessary, but we like to know the health histories on both sides to get a better understanding of what your pregnancy will look like.”

Aelin bit her lip, then said, “I don't know anything about the father’s parents. I, uh, haven't even told him we’re having a baby. I’m not sure how involved he will be, either.” Lysandra squeezed her hand.

“I get it, Ms. Galathynius, and there is absolutely no pressure in regards to that. I’m satisfied knowing you have support in any form.” This time, Aelin squeezed Lysandra’s hand.”

Dr. Towers typed a few more notes on the computer, gave Aelin a few pamphlets regarding food and exercise, then instructed her to schedule her next appointment before leaving. 

By the end of the appointment, Aelin was in good spirit, that fire in her heart burning bright.

“If you have any questions or concerns before now and then, feel free to call us at any time. We always have a doctor on call after hours. I’m looking forward to being with you on this journey, Ms. Galathynius.” She extended her hand. 

Aelin shook it. Smiled. There was something about the way they interacted that told Aelin the seed of friendship beyond their doctor-patient had been planted. “Please, call me Aelin.”

“Only if you call me Yrene,” she said with a grin.

On the way home, Aelin told Lysandra she would make dinner for her and Aedion the next night so they can tell him together. She’d do it tonight, but she feels obligated to talk to Rowan before anyone else finds out.

She doesn't know how he will react, but her fireheart flickers with hope.

--

The next morning, Aelin woke up feeling better than she had all week. She felt like no matter what happens, she can take on the world. She was ready.

Before her mind could convince her otherwise, she picked up the phone and dialed the number she knows by heart.

The fire in her heart dimmed when a female voice answered, “Hello?”

tag list:

@maddymelv​ || @lucy617​ || @tillyrubes10​ || @faerie-queen-fireheart​ || @tottenhamboys20​ || @the-third-me​ || @superspiritfestival​ || @rolltide7​ || @courtofjurdan​ || @sleeping-and-books​ || @aelinchocolatelover​

[jubilantwriter]

Heart Shaped like Sea Glass

(First)  (Previous)  (Next)  (AO3)

Part 8 - Reflected like Sunlight Against the Waves

Summary:  Getting the human to do what needs to be done is harder than Daniel realizes.  But each part of the process takes steps.  And he’s willing to put forth the effort, so long as it gets him the results he needs, however long it takes.

// // // // //

It's not often that the sun comes out.  But it's very often that it disappears back behind the clouds without a single word.  Routine returns without another word.  And not another word is mentioned as they settle back into fish and silence and the ever lingering darkness that follows with the changing of the seasons.

Daniel finds that he doesn't enjoy the silence that much anymore.  But words are hard to coax out.  Hard to lure out when he's scrabbling for a purchase as the human stares at him blankly from where he resides.  He doesn't know too much about humans.  Doesn't really want to get too close to them.

(A lie and a half.)

But now he's starting to... feel a little concerned.  No, not worried, of course not.  But he's a little concerned.  Because the sun, or what little of the sun he used to see, is dipping down below the horizon faster and faster.  There's a chill in the air that he can finally feel.  A warning.  He watches as the gulls around him begin to dwindle in number, their little eyes looking at him with a mild curiosity as he remains.  A whisper draws his attention, but he pays the sea no mind.  It's been awfully calm lately, strangely calm.  But he doesn't have time to question the sea and why it decides to whisper instead of yell.  There's more important things to consider.

For instance, if Daniel makes his seasonal trip to the warmer waters, where other humans are more likely to be easier meals, would the human here still be alive for him to feed when he returns?

Will the human remember to feed himself?

Will the human be able to care for himself?

Difficult, difficult questions that should not be questions.

On one hand, he could perhaps ask the selkie for a favor.  Her little human lover could be of help.  Maybe feed the human while he's away.  He can even suggest which winter fishes to feed the human in order to satisfy his nearly nonexistent palette.  And because she's a selkie, she's less than likely to show herself around the human.  

But... she's also a selkie.  A selkie who finds humans such curious creatures, despite her natural instinct suggesting she stay the fuck away from them.  No no, it seems more so that her friendly nature wins out every time, and that's what keeps her from completely leaving her lover behind.  Not only that, but her playful nature would make her endearing, which would make her convincing.  Maybe she'd even convince the human to crave life instead of death!  Awful, really.

No.  He cannot depend on the selkie for help.  She'd never leave him alone if he asked her lover to call her for help.  And the old fool would oblige, because of course he would.  Years and years of obsessing over eating the human managed to endear the siren to the old fisherman, when the old man should have felt fear instead.  Daniel groans and rubs at his face.  Humans make no sense.  They should be fearing him - a siren!  He's their natural predator.  But of course not.  He has one old fisherman that waves to him when he sits on his rock, and another human that practically begs for Daniel to eat him.  An involuntary shudder shakes his feathers, and he finds himself fluffing himself out to better keep himself warm.

The weather is growing colder.  And that means he has to leave soon.  Which means...

Which means he needs to convince the human to take care of himself while he's gone.

He stands up, wings spread wide as he dashes across the waves and beats his wings for added momentum.  Even as his feet touches the sand, he keeps up his pace and aims for the door.  Just as he's about to tackle the door with the full force of his body, the door opens.

Goddammit.

A loud grunt greets him as he and the human crash and tumble onto the ground.  Daniel squawks in shock as he pulls away from the tangle of limbs he finds himself in.  The human takes longer to sit up, groaning as he rubs his head and shoots a half-assed glare at Daniel.

"Really?"  Annoyed words leave the human as he continues to sit in place.  "You got tired of kicking my door in, so now you wanna start slamming into me instead?"

"I didn't know you were going to open the door!"  Daniel points at the empty bed and glares back.  "Normally, I have to struggle to get your ass up and about!  What made you suddenly decide to get up now?!"  

"Well, I heard you coming and thought, 'Gee, maybe I should just invite him in instead of letting him break my door,' and what do I get for trying to be polite?  An aching back and a puffed out siren."

Daniel grumbles as he tries to relax, pulling his wings back close to his body.  "I didn't ask you to open the door."

"Yeah, well, I shoulda realized that sirens don't have manners."

"I have manners!"

"In a manner of speaking."  The human ignores his outraged cry and stands up to stretch.  Looking around, the human tilts his head to the side and blinks slowly.  "What?  No fish?"

"No."  Daniel gets up and dusts himself off as he remembers why he came here in the first place.  "I can't keep feeding you like this.  You need to take care of yourself."

"Stellar idea."  The human turns on his heel and begins crawling back into his bed.  "I'm going to take care of myself by never waking up."

Irritation creeps through Daniel as he clears his throat.  It's not his favorite thing to do, but it's the only thing that works.  "You can't keep doing this-"  He hesitates for a moment, realizing he doesn't even know the human's name.  However, the gentle tone and higher pitch is enough to get the human to freeze in place.  "I wish you'd take care of yourself...  It makes me so sad seeing you like this."

"Dave..."  The human slowly turns to Daniel, tears in his eyes.  "Davey."  

Their eyes meet for a moment.  The smell of heartbreak grows stronger by the minute, and Daniel heaves a sigh through his nose as he drops the voice.  "He'd want you to take care of yourself."

"Y... no, why do you care?"

"I can't be around to feed you all the time."  He crosses his arms as the human sits on his bed.  The brunette's head droops as he focuses his gaze on the wooden floor.  "You need to start feeding yourself.  Or at least, attempt to care for yourself.  Maybe that will change your attitude enough to make me want to eat you."  

"I do want to get eaten."

"Then fucking eat.  Or do I need to teach you how to do that too?"

"No, absolutely not."  The human's face scrunches up as he thinks.  "Do sirens do that thing that birds do to feed their babies?  Davey told me once that they uhhh, digest food and then spit it back up into their kids' mouths."

"I can show you, it's quite easy actually-"

"Nononononono, absolutely NOT."  He stands up quickly and waves his hands in front of him.  "You already tried to shove worms into my mouth, I do NOT need bird spit up in my mouth instead!"

"It's actually more complex than that.  Look, it's easier if I just show you-"

"Hey, how about we start working on that 'feeding myself' thing, yeah?  Instead of you puking up your last meal to 'show me' or whatever."

"I was going to show you one of these days, since you insist on acting like a little chick."  Daniel smirks as the human gags.  "Little chicky food for the little chicky baby."

"Gross!"

"I'll be happy to resort to it if you insist on making me continue to feed you."

"I'd rather eat the worms, thanks."

"How about I get some right now, just so you have the chance?"

"No, keep your dirty worms to yourself."  As the human continues to cringe, Daniel takes a closer look around the one-roomed shack.  The fisherman uses a fishing pole or whatever to catch his meals.  He looks around and spies nothing of the sort.  Actually, the more he looks around, the more he realizes that the human simply has... nothing.  There's a bowl or two, sure, the roasting sticks, some logs of wood that the human must have dragged from somewhere, a single plate, a knife that's duller than his talons, and old, drying fish scales littering the floor.

There's nothing in here.  Nothing but a bed and a human and a sad excuse of a living space.  Even Daniel's cave looks more luxurious than this travesty!

"...How did you feed yourself before I came here?"

"Uhh."  The human looks around at his empty shack and shrugs.  "I traded most of my things away."

"...Why?"

"I didn't have a use for them anymore."  The brunette rubs his arm slowly, as if the reality of his home begins to dawn on him.  "I mean, I kept a few bare essentials.  But I was considering trading the bowls for something too before you came here.  I don't have money.  Everything I arrived with is gone to someone else.  And..."  He shrugs as he looks at Daniel.  "It's not like I had anything worth keeping."

(A painful thought tries to surface, but Daniel shoves it down.  Not here.  Not now.  He doesn't want to... relate.)

"So," he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "you have nothing to get you more food.  No tools, no money, nothing of worth."

The human hesitates.  "Well..."  He kneels beside his bed and carefully pulls out an object.

An... instrument?  Daniel's seen those before, on ships that would pass by in the warmer waters.  He's never seen one so up close before.  The human strokes the instrument gently, refusing to look up as he gazes at it almost wistfully.

The scent of rot almost... lightens as he sighs.

"This belonged to Davey.  It's the only thing I have left."

"Can you play it?"

"What?"  The human looks up in surprise as Daniel settles down in front of him.

"I said, can you play it?"

"I-"  He glances between the instrument and Daniel as the blonde focuses his attention on the instrument in front of him.  It looks to have... many strings on it.  He loses count after the tenth or so string.  But the body of the instrument reminds him of a drop of water, and that's enough to have him tilting his head in interest.

"Play it?"

"I don't uh, I don't know how."

"Unbelievable.  Fingers are wasted on you."

"You have fingers too!"

"Yes, with talons."  He flexes his hands out in front of the human to emphasize his point.  "I can't make music with my hands like you humans can.  Only with my voice."  A little bit of bitterness enters his voice as his wings slowly curl around his sides.  "My songs would be perfect with a bit of instrumental backing."

"You really care about your songs being perfect."

"Of course!"  He puffs his chest out proudly as he smirks at the human.  "It's how I lure desperate idiots like you to become my meals."

(And it's how he passes the time.  How he fills the emptiness all around him with something.  Fills the air with nonsensical noise so that he doesn't feel alone.  Drowns out the ocean's cries and the faint whispers from his memories.  It's all he has.  It's all he's ever had.)

"Well, you're not wrong."  The human idly plucks at the strings, plucking the siren's interest in turn.  "But I honestly don't know how to play this."

"Just do what you're doing.  It doesn't have to make sense."  Daniel just wants to hear something new for once.  A little nonsense doesn't hurt, after all.

"...Sure."

The human plucks at the strings, strums a bit, before returning to random plucking.  Musical notes jumble together in a strange pattern as the brunette gets a feel for the instrument.  It's nothing special.  It's nothing interesting.  But it's something relaxing.  Daniel sighs softly as he watches the human's fingers wander the many strings on the instrument, closing his eyes as he listens to the idle noise.

"...Davey used to play me songs all the time."

Daniel keeps his eyes closed as he nods along.  "Mmm."

"He'd always come up with new songs.  Most of the time, they were just silly tunes about whatever he saw that day.  Like the trees swaying in the wind.  Or the stars sparkling at night.  Sometimes, he'd make songs at our friend's behest.  Something like, 'Gwen isn't your mother, so stop asking her to fix your clothes for you'.  That one was always one of my favorites."

"Mmhm."  

"He loved the hell out of this thing.  Said it was the best gift I'd ever given him.  Well, second to best gift."  

Daniel opens his eyes wordlessly as he focuses on the human's sad smile.

"My very best gift to him was my love, or so he said."

"...What about you?"

"Hm?"  The human stops plucking at the strings to focus on Daniel.

"What did he give you in return for your gifts?"

"...His smiles.  His laughter."  The human's eyes grow watery, but not a single tear sheds as Daniel watches.  "I loved seeing him happy.  I'd do anything to see him shine brighter than the sun and the stars.  I thought that I wouldn't need anything else in the world.  Just him, and his sweet, bright smiles."  

They both look down at the instrument held tenderly in the human's hands.  Bright smiles and happy laughter are long gone now, Daniel thinks.  But the memories remain.  So maybe, not all is lost.  The instrument, despite how the loss of its owner still affects him, garners positive emotions from the human.  He smells less like rot, which is good.  But nothing else comes from him.  No sweet scent of happiness, no fragrant scent of wistfulness.  Nothing but rot, though the scent is a little weaker than usual.

So.  It's a start.

"Keep the instrument."

"What?"  The human looks up at him with shock.  Daniel rolls his eyes as he continues.

"Keep the instrument.  It obviously will give you something to do in this empty excuse of a shack."

"I guess but-"  The brunette looks around at the noticeable lack of food.  "I don't have anything else to trade."

"So then, what?  You're going to trade away your beloved's beloved instrument?"

The human hugs it closer to his chest.  "...I refuse."

"Good."  Daniel stands up with a grin and heads towards the door.  "At least you have some semblance of life in you.  That'll make you tastier to devour."

"But what about the food?"

"I'll just catch fish until you figure something out."  He shrugs as he pauses by the door, a thought returning to him as he studies the human still seated with the instrument.  "By the by, what the hell is your name?"

The human squints at him suspiciously.  "Why do you want to know?"

"To perfect my song, obviously."  He rolls his eyes.  "Makes it more personal, more intimate.  More believable.  I thought you wanted to drown in your delusions just a little bit more?  If I make my songs more palatable to you, then maybe you can finally experience the ounce of joy needed to make me consider eating you."

"My name-"  The human cuts himself off, frowning as he looks away from Daniel.  He considers a little bit too long as Daniel snaps from where he stands.

"Well?  What's your name?  Or do you not have one?"

"I have one," he says calmly, not looking at Daniel, "but I'd rather not give it to you."

"Why the hell not?"

"I don't want you to grow attached."  The human glances at Daniel before returning his attention to the instrument.  "It'd be harder for you to eat me if you know my name, right?  I wouldn't be another nameless human you want to eat.  I'd be that guy you know, that guy who's name you'll say everyday like it's commonplace.  You'll get attached, and then you'll reconsider making good on your promise to eat me.  Better for us both if you don't know it."

He blinks.  Once.  Twice.  Dumbfounded, almost.  He didn’t think he’d be rejected being told a name.  His chest twists into knots as his fist trembles by his side.

Daniel swallows hard as he glares at the human's head.

"Fine."

(He's not disappointed.  He's not.)

The human flinches at his hard reply, but before he can get another word out, Daniel races out towards the sea.

He hears the ocean whisper, but he ignores it in favor of diving into the waves.  And for once, the ocean welcomes him with a pitying embrace.

Pathetic, he thinks, as he lets himself sink.  How truly pathetic.

[wingsofkpop]

Finding SKZ - 11: YNXX 2/2

pairing(s): Hybrid!Bang Chan x Reader, Hybrid!SKZ x Reader

genre: Hybrid!AU, Dystopian!AU, there’s actually Fluff, but Angst too, Smut finally!!!

warning(s): Mature language, violence, blood and gore, flashbacks and hallucinations, mentions of drug use, mentions of suicide, mentions of abuse, explicit smut including but not limited to unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), fingering, etc. 

Trigger/Smut Warning - This chapter does contain explicit scenes of  suicide, violence and sex. Please do not read if you are uncomfortable/will be harmed with/by any of these topics

word count: 10,6k

chapter directory

The scarlet and orange flames dance in front of your eyes, almost as if beckoning you to throw yet another piece of firewood into its hungering grasp. You turn away from the fire, instead watching how it blazes within each surrounding set of hooded irises. A smile upturns your lips at the realization that Felix’s eyes sparkle while Jeongin’s shimmer. And Minho’s glow while Jisung’s glimmer. You wondered if your own eyes were as bright. Or if they were dim from the haunting ghosts of grief and betrayal. 

Woojin had managed to drive far enough into the forest to evade whatever security the scientists sent after all of you. You drove for hours and hours, discovering the border to be a lot farther away than you originally thought. So far, your main plan was to pass the border, find some hidden door and escape to Yellow Wood using Chan’s key. Although, even if Changbin knew the general location, none of you knew what to expect. 

What if there turned out to be no door at all?

Footsteps submerge your consciousness from your thoughts and you turn to see Chan and Changbin returning from the jeep with a couple of bags. He wasn’t lying when he told you the scientists allowed him and the boys to leave. They even provided them with a fully stocked car with food, clothing and any supplies nine boys could need. The thought made you nauseous. Your mind flashes back to the image of Chan standing behind the glass of your cage. 

You shake it away. He came back for you. They all did. 

You have to remember that.  

“Who’s hungry?” Chan chuckles, plopping down on the makeshift log seat in between Hyunjin and Felix. Changbin lowers beside you, sandwiching your form in between him and Jeongin. You and the youngest spoke a little on the ride before Woojin called for a rest stop. He was probably one of the cutest boys you’ve ever met. And he was more than willing to cheer you up from your depressive thoughts with a special performance of his: Trot. 

“Starving!” Jisung heaves. The leader chuckles again, unzips one of the backpacks and pulls out numerous packages of already prepared fried chicken. Changbin offers you a bottle of Coke, Sprite or water, and you graciously accept your favorite choice. He sends you a soft smile, which you return with one of your own. 

“Channie-hyung, are there any ramen cups?” 

“Let me check, I think there were a couple here somewhere-” Chan digs through the same backpack before tossing it away and searching through another. Neither of the two provide him any victory, so he turns to peer into the one behind him. His body visibly tenses as he unzips it, which he quickly zips up. He move back around, “(Y/N), I think this is yours.” 

“What?” With furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips, you reach forward to collect the backpack in your arms. It was oddly heavy against your limbs and connected to the ground with a loud thud when you set it down between your legs. Like Chan, you unzip it and part the flaps. Your confusion dissipates to sorrow. 

A single note card was laid a top whatever was packed inside the bag. You recognize the penmanship immediately and the realization wells tears in the corners of your eyes. You take the paper between quivering fingers and lift it toward the fire light for a better view. With a deep, calming breath, you read the words scrawled across the page: 

(Y/N),

I want you to stay with those hybrid boys. They’ll take care of you better than your mother and I ever could. I hope you’ll find somewhere where you’ll be safe and happy. You deserve that more than anyone. I’m sorry for everything I never told you. 

I’ll be with you always. 

“I ran into your aunt when I was trying to convince Dr. Bang to let me see you,” Minho says from across the fire, his eyes twinkling underneath the wrath of the flames. “She told me to give that to you. Said it would help you think of home.” 

You smile just as a single tear pushes itself from your eye, but you wipe it away before it can fall. With a heavy, aching, yet oddly calm heart, you retract the items from the bag. Each elicit a pleasant memory from the deepest depths of those you forgot. The camera your mother bought for your twelfth birthday. The stuffed animal you’ve had since you were a baby. The journal you’ve barely filled with your deepest, darkest secrets. 

Surprisingly though, you felt numb. Whether it be from the bitterness of this life you once knew and lived having always been one big lie, or the suffocating idea that both your mother and your aunt were now gone, you couldn’t tell. That is two deaths on your conscious now. 

You felt even sicker. 

“Thank you, Minho… but I can’t keep these things.”

“What do you mean?” 

You shrug, “It’s kind of hard to describe, but I just… It doesn’t feel like these things are really mine anymore…

“Here, I think I have something for each one of you.” 

Eighteen pairs of eyes widen at your words. You shush Chan and Woojin when they attempt to usher the idea of you giving away your precious items. The other boys remain alert, ears twitching in excitement and figures fidgeting in impatience at the possibility of receiving gifts. You turn to Jeongin first and tug your favorite furry earmuffs from your middle school winters over his fox ears. You sigh, “I know it’s not very exciting, but these will keep you warm no matter how cold it is. They match your fur too.” 

Jeongin giggles while thumbing at his new gift, “Thank you, (Y/N)-noona.” 

“You’re welcome, Jeongin.” You pull out more items from your childhood. “Woojin, this jacket should fit you perfectly. And Felix, I remember you saying you always wanted an old gameboy.”

“Way cool! Thank you so much!” Felix all but snatches the device from your fingertips, squealing in delight when the screen lights up in response. On the other hand, you have to convince Woojin to try the jacket on. After testing the fit, he reluctantly accepts. You can’t help but smile while watching him cuddle into its warmth. 

One by one, you bestow a present from your past onto the people of your future. Hyunjin, a pair of oversized dancing shoes your father bought in an attempt to rekindle your already lost relationship. Jisung, the stuffed animal that protected you during your childhood fears of the dark and thunderstorms. Changbin, the journal with blank pages ready to be filled with song lyrics. All that was left, Minho, Seungmin and Chan. 

“Forget about me?” Minho chuckles. Playfully, he waggles a charred poker makeshifted from a long stick. 

You return with a snicker of your own and shake your head, “How could I ever? Think fast.” 

You toss the item high, safe enough to fly and land far away from the flames. With cupped hands, Minho manages to catch his gift midair. His expression starts as confusion before gradually shifting to remorse once he realizes what it was. 

“I was going to wish for my mom to get better… but I never got to the bridge in time...” You chuckle, thumbing at a loose thread hung from your badly torn jeans. “Wherever we end up, and when you think the time is right, I want you to make your own wish.” 

Minho smiles and clutches the unused lock between both palms. Beneath the glow of the fire and the sliver of moonlight, you could see the start of tears glistening in his deep brown eyes. He sighs, “...Thank you, (Y/N)-ah.”

You nod. Not knowing what else to say. 

“Here, Seungmin.” You offer the beagle the precious polaroid camera you practically begged for how many years ago. With trembling, eager hands, the youngster takes the device from you, cradling it within his palms. His eyebrows furrow as he fusses with different mechanics. Then, raises the camera and aims it straight at you. You barely get the chance to blink before the familiar click enters your ears and the device whirs out a laminated sheet. 

Seungmin shakes the photograph, gazes at it with such admiration and turns back to you with tears in his eyes, “Thank you so much, (Y/N)-noona. I really don’t deserve this-” 

“-Of course you do.” You argue, waving your hand to dismiss his insecurity away. “Min, I don’t care about whatever happened back at the lab. You guys came back for me-” 

“-You don’t understand.” Seungmin shakes his head, “Noona, I wasn’t talking about you.” 

Your chest tightens, “What do you mean?” 

“Yeah, Seungminie? What do you mean?” At Changbin’s voice, you realize the other members are all now listening to your conversation with the hybrid. An obvious tension carried between the lot of you. 

Seungmin glances warily at Chan, who nods his head in response. The beagle refuses to meet anyone’s gaze, continues to fiddle with his new camera and guiltily murmurs, “I... I was the reason that… none of us were really… put where we were supposed to be...” 

“Seungmin-ah? What are you saying?” 

He shakes his head, “The MCHPF had me… change the location of where to send everyone…

“I’m the reason Woojin-hyung ended up in the circus, and Jisung at the club… It’s how I knew where everyone was….” Seungmin finishes with a heavy exhale, as if releasing the weight he had been burdened with for god knows how long. 

“Hang on a second,” Your head snaps to see Hyunjin rising out of his seat with a shocked and angered expression across his features. “You were the reason I was in that damn ring?”

“Hyunjin, please. Seungmin had reason to.” Chan attempts to calm the furious dalmation, but only works to tense Hyunjin’s cropped ears even further. “Don’t be upset with-” 

Hyunjin gasps, “-Don’t be upset!? How the hell am I supposed to not be upset!? You have no idea how much shit I went through in that ring!... How many fights I almost fucking died to!

“And what about Jisung!? How many times was he raped in that club!?” You wince at Hyunjin’s observation, catching how Jisung’s cat ears fall flat against his head. “Or both Felix and Woojin being abused both physically and verbally!? What about-!?” 

“-They were gonna kill Jeongin if I didn’t do it!” Seungmin sobs, effectively cutting off his brother’s frantic voice. His body begins to rock back and forth while his fingers dig into the flesh of his knees, “They needed you in certain places so we could-” 

“-You were in on this, weren’t you?” Woojin interrupts this time. His question was aimed toward the oddly silent wolf. Chan’s shoulders fall, similar to the way his neck arches toward the ground. Like Seungmin, he doesn’t make eye contact with anyone. He only nods. 

“So not only were you willing to give (Y/N)-ah up, but you let us be pawns in their game.” Woojin mutters sadly. 

Chan shakes his head, “It wasn’t like that. I did it so we could-” 

“-Be free.” Hyunjin growls, sending both his guilty brothers a sneer. “There’s always a price to pay for freedom. Who knew it’d be your own family.” 

The dalmatian storms from the circle and back in the direction of the jeep. A breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding releases from your parted lips, staining the silent atmosphere with even more tension. You debated on soothing the crying beagle beside you, but Woojin beats you to it, “Seungmin-ssi, come on. Let’s go calm you down.”

Chan rises with the two, as if to run after Hyunjin, but the bear shakes his head, “Don’t. I think you’ve done enough.”

“We’ll go calm Jinnie down.” Jeongin, Felix and Jisung all break from the circle and scurry after their brother. You watch their silhouettes bleed into the pitch black of night. A strange feeling arising in your stomach as they go. 

“Well, awkward.” Minho hums, drumming his fingers against the empty seats beside him. He hesitates for a minute, just staring into the low flames of the fire, before continuing, “Changbinnie and I will go help Woojin-hyung and Seungminnie. I’m sure you two need some time to talk anyway.” 

You curse the coyote for ducking out of the situation that easily, and you’re almost tempted to give him the finger as he and Changbin disappear deeper into the forest. A huff brushes past your lips. With nothing to lose, you turn to peer at the only remaining hybrid’s face. 

In this lighting, he looked ethereal. Almost too perfect to be real. His dark roots were beginning to show along the line of his scalp and thus, emphasized the bleached color of his blonde locks and the silver of his hybrid ears. His hair was also in its naturally curled form which you so rarely saw back at your apartment. You loved Chan’s curls. Then again, you loved everything about Chan. 

At least, you thought you did. 

With a deep sigh, you climb to your feet and make your way to where the wolf is sat. You don’t bother asking, take the seat beside him and stare straight into the fire. The silence you expected to remain breaks at his soft whisper: 

“I’m a monster.” 

You sigh, “No, you’re not. You’re just… trying to protect your family.” 

“By hurting and lying to them?” Chan’s hands fly to his hair, fingers tugging harshly at his roots. Your heart cracks at his frantic stature, having never before seen him look so insecure and distressed. “Woojin’s right… All of this was just one big game that I played… and dragged the people I love into…” 

“It wasn’t your fault. You did what you thought was the best thing for your brothers.” Gently, you place a hand on the hybrid’s shoulder. His figure tightens beneath your touch and it sends an ache into your gut. “Don’t do this to yourself, Chan.” 

“Don’t act like you don’t hate me for what I did.” The wolf’s sudden growl has you flinching backward. The eyes which connect with yours are ones you’ve seen, but only in times where fear and Chan existed in the same place. Even so, you didn’t find yourself intimidated. Beneath the aggression, you could see a boy locked in a cage. One filled with despair and terror. 

You inhale an unsteady gust of air, barely holding back a cough as the zest of smoke tickles at your throat. Another hand is lifted toward the wolf. This time, splaying across the surface of his pale cheek. Your lips barely upturn, but it’s enough for the ferocity to disperse from his irises. 

“I could never hate you.” You whisper truthfully with a sad smile, “What you did… hurt me… It hurt me a lot…

“But I could never hate you for it.” 

Just as a droplet cascades from his eye, you wipe it away. Chan shakes his head, “I never wanted to hurt you…” 

“Chan-” 

“-Really, I didn’t.” He says more firmly. Your hand on his cheek is pulled away and instead cradled between his larger palm. With it occupied, you couldn’t wipe the other tears blemishing the wolf’s face. “Do you think you could ever forgive me?” 

Those words fracture whatever pieces are left of your heart. 

Once again, no matter how much it hurt, you answer truthfully, “I don’t know…” 

“That’s fair…” 

“Yeah…” When your hands slip from his, you immediately miss his warmth. You will the feelings away, ignoring the temptation to throw your arms around Chan and hold him until the sun comes up. As much as you wanted to forgive and forget, you couldn’t. The damage that was done was just that: 

Unforgettable. 

“Hyung, noona, we’re gonna head out soon.” Jisung’s voice drowns out your overbearing thoughts. Without one last glance at the wolf, you rise to your feet and follow the cat hybrid back toward the jeep. Minho was in the driver’s seat this time with Felix in the passenger. Woojin and Changbin were in the process of reloading bags in whatever space was available. You were surprised to see Hyunjin and Seungmin sitting beside each other. Although neither were really speaking to one another. 

“It’ll be about another day until we reach the border,” Changbin hums while taking a seat beside Woojin. Chan climbs over him to take the bear’s other side. You follow Jisung and position yourself between him and Jeongin. It was a little cramped, but it could be worse. “We should have enough gasoline to get us there.” 

“Gre-” You go to reply, but a sudden pang in the back of your brain has a surprised groan spilling from your lips. The sickness from before turns into a full blown nausea, and for a second you thought you were going to puke. Luckily, as fast as it came, the pain lessens into a faint ache. You could still feel it pulsing in your head. The thought brings worry into your gut.

“(Y/N)-noona, are you okay?” 

You angle your head to peer at a concerned Jeongin and shake your head, “My head hurts…but I’m sure it’s just from lack of sleep” 

You could only hope. 

***

“Rock! Paper! Scissors!” At the queue, you manipulate your hand into what looks like a pair of scissors. A smile of victory invades your face when you see your opponent fashioning a paper. 

“What the heck!? How are you so good at this, noona!?” Jeongin laughs at Jisung’s whine. The bengal sends the fox a dark glare, leaning forward to butt his head into his chest. Jeongin’s laughter only increases and thus, brings a sharp pout to Jisung’s face. “It’s not funny! She even beat Felix!” 

“It’s just luck, Sung,” You chuckle, fixing his leftmost pointed ear when it folded inwards. “There’s no real skill to it.” 

Jisung whines again, “But you’ve won every time! You have to have some strategy!” 

You laugh, “I really don’t! Like I said, it’s luck!”  

Frustrated by your lack of explanation, Jisung completely gives up playing with you and proceeds to play with the youngest member, who he equally loses as much to. Left by your lonesome, you take the chance to peer out the side of the jeep. 

Since the sun came up a couple hours ago, you were finally able to see a lot farther than a few inches in front of your face. Minho had driven into this plains sort of area. It was still completely surrounded by forest, but it was a lot easier to navigate through. Although you couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy since you were completely out in the open as well. 

Anyone could be watching. 

A chill slithers down your spine like snake. 

What if someone was watching you? 

Out of instinct, you peer along the moving treeline, hoping to catch sight of whatever was making your skin crawl. There was no possible way the lab security could have caught up to you guys this fast. Or maybe they were there amongst the trees, waiting to strike at the right moment…

“Woah! What is that!?” Felix, having switched seats with Changbin somewhere along the ride, grabs the headbar above his head and pulls himself to his feet. It’s the little unsteady due to the rocking of the jeep, but his hold on the bar stabilizes him enough. Hyunjin lifts an arm to warn the cat, but is quickly shoved away. 

Chan does the same as his younger brother, but on the opposite side,  “Check that out!” 

You turn to look where the wolf is pointing, discovering something red approaching in the distance. If you had to guess, it was a patch of bright, pretty wildflowers. It reminded you of the garden your aunt so desperately kept up with. She always loved to garden. 

Your eyes widen when you catch sight of a figure nestled amongst the flowers. You climb to your feet to get a better view, practically bending halfway out of the jeep. It could have been an animal, but you swear it had the shape of a person. Someone familiar. 

“(Y/N)-noona, be careful. You’r-” 

“-I’m fine, Hyunjin.” You reply rather sharply, annoyed at not being able to find out what that thing in the wildflowers was. With a huff, you lower back down onto your seat and cross your arms. You should have asked Minho to slow down. 

“(Y/N), are you sure you’re okay?” Felix asks. When you look up, you discover concern etched across the features of his face. “You’ve been acting strange ever since we left.”

 You shrug, “I’m just tired… It’s probably just-” 

“-Holy shit! Hang on to something!” The brakes release a painful screech as the vehicle hurls to a rocky stop, the inertia throwing everyone forward. You barely have the chance to reach up and grab the edge of the jeep to stop yourself from launching out of the car. Even so, your lower body wrenches out of your seat. Chan lurches forward to catch your legs and steady you while Minho brings the jeep to a complete stop. 

“What the hell was that!?” Woojin rasps while helping Felix and Hyunjin to their feet. “Minho-?!” 

“-There’s something blocking the path!” The coyote hops out of the driver’s seat. The younger hybrids follow him out of the vehicle, gathering around some sort of metal fence. With Chan’s assistance, you’re able to do so as well. 

The fence was at least ten feet high, maybe more with how much it was towering over everyone’s heads. It was obviously old and abandoned, decorated by harsh years of copper rust. There was also torn black and yellow caution tape and stained ‘road closed’ signs along its exterior as well. It stretched on for as long as you could see to both the left and the right. Almost like a long silver ribbon fluttering into the forest. 

“Well, there’s good news and bad news.” Minho turns to face the group with a sheepish grin stretched along his lips. “We’re close to the border, maybe another twelve hours. But we can’t continue unless we get around this fence.” 

“Can’t we break it down?” Jeongin offers, his fox ears twitching at the appearance of a harsh breeze. 

Woojin nods, “Good idea, Innie. With how old it is, Chan, Changbin and I can do it with our bare hands.” 

“Just be careful not to cut yourselves.” 

Your warning takes the bear by surprise, but he recovers quickly and nods, “Good thinking, (Y/N)-ah. We need to find a place where the fence has loosened from the dirt. Jisung, over by you-” 

“-What the fuck, Seungmin-ah!?” The sudden yell takes you so much by surprise, you physically flinch at the curse. You turn to see Hyunjin stomping toward Seungmin, who was lowering his camera. The dalmatian snatches the polaroid from the beagle’s fingers and flings it toward the ground. Your anxiety increases tenfold when Seungmin lifts his own arms to shove Hyunjin. The latter doing the same. 

“Hyunjin! Seungmin!” Chan and the others dash toward their quarreling brothers, immediately separating the two before any real damage could be done. You move to follow the group, but a similar ache from before enters your head. This time, its ten times worse. 

The pain travels from your head to the rest of your body, almost as if your flesh was being poked with needles. Dizziness and blurriness overtake your eyes, and you’re barely able to witness Changbin step in between the two separated hybrids. You open your mouth to call out, but are hit with yet another pang that brings you to your knees. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the pain to cease. 

Eventually, your prayers are answered and the level of hurt diminishes. You find the strength to test your luck and open your eyes. When you do, your panic embiggens before shifting to full terror. 

The boys and the jeep were gone, along with the fence and even the surrounding trees. You were knelt on a tiled floor, hands bound behind your back and a gag inside your mouth. There were no walls, only pitch black void surroundings. When you scream, the sound echoes in your ears like a broken record. You were alone. 

A movement out of the corner of your eye has your neck snapping to the right, only to find nothing but even more blackness. You scream again, biting at the cloth between your teeth. Another movement comes from the left, but when you turn, there’s still nothing there. 

Something drops right in front of you, stealing a high-pitched wail from your lips. Your volume strengthens when you recognize the body of your own mother hung from the nonexistent ceiling by a pretty, pink scarf. Her lifeless, paled irises stare into your own. So pale, you could see your own terrified reflection. 

Another inhumane yell sounds, but this time, it doesn’t come from you. You duck forward, dodging another corpse as it cascades from above. A head lands perfectly within your lap, body splayed out in front of you. You whimper at your aunt’s blank and cold expression, the bullet hole inside her brain almost acting as a third eye. Struggling against your restraints, you scoot away from two bodies as far as you can before your back knocks against something else. 

A sudden hand emerges from the darkness and pins you to the ground. No matter how much you squirm, their strength outmatches yours. In their other hand, you watch breathlessly as they lead a small knife to your neck. The blade caressing the skin of your jugular. 

“Please, no!” You gasp over your gag, shaking your head feverishly. “Don’t kill me!” 

“Why not?” To your horror, the face that materializes from the void is one that mirrors your own. Except her eyes were full of malevolence. The giggle that stems from her -- your lips, erupts goosebumps across your skin. She moves forward to press the blade even firmer against your throat with an evil smirk: 

“You’re as good as dead, anyway.” 

“No!” With a final bout of strength, you tear through your restraints and claw at her face. A groan pulls past her lips as your fingernails slice across her cheek, blood splattering against the floor. Taking advantage of the moment of weakness, you thrust your feet into her stomach and knock her body off of yours. She hits the ground with a sharp cry, the knife flying past her fingertips. 

You scramble for the weapon, ensnaring it between your own fingers. The doppelganger giggles again as you replace the blade across her own throat. She batters her eyelashes and nods, “That’s fucking right… Kill me…” 

You gulp, your hand shaking against her skin. The temptation to slit her throat was so overpowering, but something inside you made you hold back. 

Something wasn’t right. 

“Show them who you are, killer!…” She screeches, her icy grip appearing around your wrist. She pulls the knife further against her neck, droplets of blood already welling beneath the metal. “C’mon, what are you fucking afraid of!?” 

“This isn’t right…” You murmur to yourself, “You’re not real…” 

“Do it!” Her scream pierces straight through your eardrums and echoes violently inside your mind. “Kill me! Slit my throat!” 

“No!” You wrench away from the figmentation, allowing the knife to slip from your grasp. “You’re not real! None of this is real!” 

“Coward!” She spits, crimson liquid spilling from her blue lips. “You’re a coward!” 

You shake your head, close your eyes and whisper, “None of this is real…” 

“(Y/N)-ah!” 

When you open your eyes, the doppelganger is gone along with everything else from your nightmares. You were back in reality, still knelt on the grass. However, you quickly realize something was not the same as before. 

Hyunjin and Seungmin were no longer trying to kill each other, and instead clinging to each other with fear etched across each of their faces. Same goes for Jisung, Felix and Jeongin. Woojin was staring at you with a blend of sympathy and concern while Changbin exhibited something closer to panic. Minho was just shocked, extremely shocked. And Chan…

Chan was holding a small gash at the edge of his throat. 

“N-no…” You whimper, watching the blood spill from down his pale skin. When you look down, you see the knife from before balanced in your lap. “Ch-Chan…” 

He shakes his head and holds an arm out, “(Y/N), it’s okay…” 

“I almost killed you…” 

Chan moves to catch you, but you were already collapsing to the ground. Blurred spots and white stars steal your consciousness, and the last thing you see before slipping into yet another world of darkness was a flash of yellow and a faint scream.

***

 It takes you awhile to come to. You even have difficulty opening your eyes. Too afraid the setting your mind would see was not the one your eyes were supposed to. When you strike up the courage, you’re not at all surprised to see you were in a different location from before. 

You were no longer outside, but in what seemed to be a quaint, cozy tent. A heavy quilt kept your figure nice and warm. More blankets beneath you to lessen the firmness of the earth on your back. Even so, your muscles still feel stiff as you sit up. 

“(Y/N)...” You flinch at the sound of your name and turn to your right to see a certain wolf laid beside you. Your movement seemed to have woken him from a deep slumber as his eyes were still hooded and ears twitching groggily. He lifts a hand from beneath the blanket you two shared and trails it down your arm. 

Although you really didn’t want to, you pull away from his touch. 

His eyebrows furrow as he sits up. And thus, reveals the sight you were so deathly afraid to see: The deep gash along the base of his neck. 

The wound you gave him. 

“(Y/N)...” The gentle whisper of your name breaks your resolve and all you want to do is scream in absolute frustration. Unable to look at the injury, you bury your head within your palms and allow the shame and grief to overtake you. Never before have you cried so violently or so mournfully, not even after your mother died. Then again, you never really did allow yourself the time to grieve. Maybe that’s why this was the way it is. 

You were crying for the loss of everything: Deaths, lies, mistakes. Everything. 

When Chan tugs you into his embrace, you’re too weak and starved for comfort to deny him again. The thought worsens your guilt. Why were you allowed to be selfish when you nearly ended his life?

Still, the hybrid soothes you from the storm that is your mind. His fingers comb through your hair while the other hand catches tears as they cascade down your cheeks. He was speaking in your ear, but his words were incoherent beneath your gulps for air and pathetic whimpers. You don’t know even know how long you were there. Then again, you didn’t really care.

You run out of water to shed eventually, yet you continue to cry even without tears. You were pretty sure you had created as large as a river by then. Maybe then you could actually drown yourself within your own sadness. Not that you weren’t drowning right now. 

The weight compressing your chest recedes after some time and your body relaxes as best it can. You were still trembling like a newborn foul, but at least you could breathe properly. Chan refuses to release you from his hold, not that you were complaining. Things may be different from those mornings in your apartment, but you could still spend an eternity just laying in his arms. 

 “Why didn’t you tell me about the drug?” For the first time, your brain actually recognizes the question that slips from the hybrid’s lips. Unfortunately, it also recognizes the betrayal and distress laced between each syllable. “You took it, didn’t you?” 

“I had to.” You confess. Your hand slides into the space where Chan’s rests over the swell of your stomach. Like water to sand, your fingers weave together. And like all the other times where your hands fit so perfectly, you didn’t want to let go. “They were going to use it to cause a genocide… So many innocent humans and hybrids would die.” 

“So what? So what if they died?” 

“You don’t mean that.” 

“Yes, I do.” His grip on your body tightens. You could feel the bruises that would later fashion in flowers of black and blue across your arms, but you didn’t care. In fact, you welcomed the pain. “Because now… you might die instead.” 

“A bit overdue, if you ask me.” You chuckle, attempting to make light of the situation. Chan doesn’t react to your comment, only burrows his head further into the crevice where your shoulders meets your neck. The sigh that airs is hot against your chapped lips. Softly, you try again, “If anything like… what happened earlier happens again, I need you to promise that you’ll do whatever it takes to protect you and the boys.” 

“No,” He shakes his head, “I won’t.” 

“Yes. You will.” 

“I won’t!” Chan growls, maneuvering so he was hovering over your body. One hand rested right beside your head while the other lowers to splay across your chest. Right over your beating heart, “This is going to beat as long as it possibly can. I don’t care what I have to do or give up to keep it that way.” 

Your lips upturn sadly, “You know it’s inevitable. I’ll end up killing all of you-” 

“-I don’t. Fucking. Believe it.” The hybrid hisses, “You didn’t kill me back there. You woke yourself up.” 

“And yet, I still hurt you.” Your hand raises to caress at the scratch. “You have to be realistic. You have to look at this from the bigger picture.” 

“Every picture I look at you from will be the same, (Y/N)...” Chan whispers, leaning into the palm cupping his cheek. He continues in an even softer tone, “When I saw the way you looked at me back in the lab when I told you the truth… I realized how stupid I was to ever think I could give you up...

“I tried to remind myself what you were, but you were just so… different… Nothing like the humans I always knew… And I just… wanted you… even though it was never supposed to be this way...”

“I love you, (Y/N)...” Chan’s confesses, “I’m sorry it took me so long to figure that out.” 

Emotionally struck by the words you’ve been longing to hear ever since you realized it yourself, your voice trembles when you speak, “If I die-” 

“-You’re not going to fucking die.” Whatever words that were resting on the tip of your tongue dissolve when Chan takes both of your wrists and pins them down beside your head. At this angle, he looked so intimidating with his sharp gaze and wolf ears. The vulnerability of your body beneath his sends a pleasurable rush through your body, awakening the warmth of your core. 

You gulp, “Ch-Chan…” 

“If you think I’m going to allow anything to take you away from me… You’re wrong.” His hot breath caresses your cheek as he murmurs. You feel antsy from the sensations. He stills your squirms with a leg between your own. His knee resting just inches from where you want him most. 

You hold your breath, unable to take in the moment fast enough. 

“I know you always hated the idea of being my owner... but you own me, babygirl. You own my body, my heart and my soul.” He continues, leaning down to card his lips across the exposed skin of your chest. The contact makes you even more sensitive than before. You can’t help but push up against him, struggling against his hold on your wrists. His grip doesn’t budge. 

You sigh in exasperation, “Chan-” 

“-But you are my owner, (Y/N).” Your sanity flies out the window when you realize exactly how close the wolf is. There was barely any space between the tips of your noses, his body practically suffocating your own. However, you were only focused on one thing: 

His eyes. 

Unlike the kind brown you’re used to, his irises were a glowing amber filled with absolute hunger. Yet, deep inside the flecks of gold and caramel, you could see every other emotion bouncing throughout his head. The anxiety. The desperation. The love. 

“And if you’re my owner, that means you belong to me too…” He whispers, bending down to rest his forehead against your own. You were so transfixed by his eyes, you couldn’t look away from his gaze. Not even when he releases one of your wrists to slide beneath the hem of your shirt, “You’re mine, (Y/N)... And I’m yours...” 

Unable to take anymore, you utilize your free limb and yank the hybrid down to meet your lips. The kiss you two share is unlike any of the others you shared before. While the ministrations were carried out the same, there was so much more meaning and feeling beneath the passion. Your tongues dance: Once for dominance. Twice for eagerness. Three times for desire. You don’t think either of you would have pulled away if your lungs could produce air on their own. 

A surprised yelp carries from your throat when Chan palms at your left breast which was already braless beneath your tank top. Fueled by arousal, you grow impatient with the lack of skin on skin and tug roughly at his own shirt. He chuckles at your restlessness, but sits up and removes the clothing nonetheless. 

You’ve seen the hybrid shirtless many times, but you still could never get over how well built he was. Lifting your hand, you drag your fingers across his broad chest, down the valley between his pecs and over the lines of his prominent abs. A sound that was far from human rumbles from his throat as you follow the trail of hair that disappears beneath the waistband of his jeans. At a closer look, you notice the obvious tent straining against the denim. You can’t help yourself and close your palm over the bulge. 

Chan curses. His grip on your breast toughens, knee pushing up against your core. You keen at the contact, gasping as his bone stimulates your clitoris. Noticing your reaction, he does it again. This time, purposely dragging his knee over your slit. You release a high-pitched moan. Your hand squeezing over his clothed hardness. 

Impatient himself, the hybrid removes your shirt and immediately latches his lips over your already hardened nipple. Whines cascade from your lips, your hand moving to tug at his blonde locks. He groans, laving and sucking at your sensitive bud before pulling away to provide its twin the same treatment. 

“Chan!...” You lift your hips to grind against his leg, needing something to satiate the fire between your thighs. Your companion groans. He gently encloses his teeth over your nipple and leans backward to playfully tug at  your flesh. Another whine is followed by another rock of your hips. You throw your head back with a wince, “Baby, please… I need more…” 

Without hesitation, Chan hooks his fingers in the waistband of your jeans and drags them down your thighs with something close to frenzy. You shut your eyes for a second, only to be met with the sound of ripping fabric and a cool breeze on your core. 

Chan tosses the scraps of your underwear to the side and inhales a sharp breath that shifts to a deep guttural growl, “Shit, you smell so good…”

His fingers swipe across your slit, just barely caressing your clit. You whine when he pulls away. The sound dying in your throat as he pops the two digits inside his mouth. Another inhuman purr erupts from the wolf, his eyes flashing an even darker orange. Licking his lips, he lowers his hand back down to your core and plunges two fingers inside your aching hole. 

“Oh shit! Chan!” 

“You’re so tight around my fingers… so tight and warm…” He purrs, nuzzling into your neck before sliding all the way down your body. The quilt is thrown out of the way so Chan can situate himself comfortably between your thighs. His silver ears twitch in anticipation, similar to the curling of your toes as he leans in toward your wet pussy. Almost testing the waters, he sticks his tongue out and licks a quick stripe over your clit. He groans at your taste, “Shit, you taste just like I thought you would… so perfect…”

You hold the sheets for dear life as the hybrid goes to town both thrusting his fingers in and out of your hole and tonguing lazily at your swollen bundle of nerves. Your gazes remained connected and you could actually see your own fucked out expression within the reflection of his irises. It made the knot forming in your stomach tighten even more. 

At a certain angle, a high-pitched cry escapes your lips and your hips buck against Chan’s hold. He uses his other limb to pin your waist to the ground. As if he loves torturing you, he continues to move his fingers against that one spot that has you weak while his licks grow more intense. 

“Fuck! I’m-I’m gonna cum, Chan!...” Your warning increases the hybrid’s speed. He goes so much faster that your vision goes blurry with hot tears and your lower regions become completely numb. You knew it was over when Chan took your clitoris between his lips and sucked. Hard. 

Your orgasm hits like a landslide, shoving you over a cliff you’ve never, ever traveled over before. It rocks your body, and might as well have rocked your world too, because you have never climaxed so hard in your life. Even when you regain some sense of consciousness, your body still continued to tremble and shake. 

When you open your eyes, you’re met with Chan’s worried gaze. He cups your cheek and asks frantically, “Babygirl, are you okay? Was I too much-?”

You shake your head, “-God, no! I’ve just… never came like that before…”

He smiles and leans down to press a long peck to your sweaty hairline. While the moment was meant to be sweet, you couldn’t help but notice his hardness pressed against your lower stomach. The thought awakens your core and kick starts your lust. You squirm until your sexes are aligned and buck against his clothed cock. 

“(Y/N), b-baby, wait-“ 

You refuse Chan’s warnings and tug at his hair, “No more waiting. I need you inside me. Now.”

The hybrid’s eyes widen to saucers and his jaw drops, “Are… are you sure?” 

“I trust you.” You reply, sending him the most sincere look you’ve ever contorted. “I-I…

“I love you, Chan.”

Your lover’s eyes glaze. Almost as if he would burst into tears. He bends down to seal your lips in another hard kiss, before pulling away to kick off his bottoms. His cock is the biggest you’ve ever seen. The idea of how much it’ll stretch excites you. 

“This might hurt a little…” Chan murmurs while pumping his length. 

You shake your head with a smile, “I can take a little pain…”

Chan slicks himself as much as he can with your arousal. You whimper when his tip comes in contact with your clit, grabbing at his shoulders for support. He wraps one arm around your waist to keep you in place. The other positions his member right at your entrance. 

The first initial push is so painful, it sets your entire lower half on fire. Your whimpers blend with Chan’s growls as he remains still to allow you time to adjust. Your walls squeeze him like a vice, gradually accommodating to his thickness. Inch by inch, he sinks inside of you until his hips meet yours and he’s settled to the very hilt. 

“Oh fuck, babygirl...” Your lover whines. His hands fumble for yours, pins them once again to the sides of your head and weaves your fingers together. He releases a mix between a whimper and a growl, rolling his hips gently against yours. “Oh my god, you feel so-so good…” 

“Chan… move, please…” 

“Shit, okay… Hold on to me, baby…”

 You wrap your arms around his neck while your legs wind around his waist. He doesn’t waste any time and sets a steady, shallow pace that drives his cock deep inside your hole. A sheen of perspiration had already begun to form across your connected bodies. The fragrance, sounds and feel of sex already attacking at your senses. The pain from before ebbed away into a nice ache. It blends with the friction of Chan’s member and adds even more pleasure. 

“I-I-shit… I will never let any-anything or anyone t-take you away from me…” Chan growls. His words seem to egg him on, his thrusts becoming more frantic and powerful. His nails dig into the flesh of your wrists, likely to leave future bruises. Not that you cared anyway. “Do you understand me, (Y/N)? You’re mine…” 

Your silence doesn’t satisfy the hybrid. He releases one of your hands to entangle it within your hair and pulls until your eyes connect. Leaning closer, Chan speaks again, “Tell me you’re mine, babygirl… Please, I-I need to hear you say it…” 

“I’m yours…” 

He licks his lips, “Say my name, (Y/N), baby, please…” 

“Chan! God, fuck, Chan!” 

“My beautiful mate…” The wolf hums, his hand lowering to encompass the circumference of your neck. He doesn’t squeeze, only holds you in place as he leans down and sinks his canines into the side of your throat. 

Your jaw goes slack. Your mind too far gone to delineate the difference between what is pleasurable pain and painful pleasure. In your fucked out state, you feel the upcoming tension of another orgasm and begin to buck your hips against Chan’s. Moans and pleas spewing from your lips like a mantra, “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Please, Chan, I’m so close!.. oh, please!” 

He detaches from your neck with a groan, “Shhh, babygirl… Need to see you cum again, yeah? You look so beautiful when you cum...” 

His slurred words make you feel dizzy. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he continues to angle his thrusts to abuse the most sensitive spot inside of you. You drag your fingernails down his back, likely leaving a scratch or two, but the hybrid doesn’t mind. In fact, his hips seem to speed up. 

“Oh shit, baby, I’m gonna cum too… Wh-where-?” 

“-Inside!” You screech, locking your ankles at the small of his back. “Cum inside me!” 

Your lover hides his whines by sucking at the marred skin of your neck and lowering his hand to roll at your clit, “G-gonna fill you so good, babygirl… I’ll have you leaking my seed for days…

“Fuck, (Y/N), I’m gonna-” 

“-Me too!” Your bodies move against each other desperately, yet fluidly, giving and taking as much pleasure as humanely (and hybridly) possible. Perched right on the edge of climax, you cup Chan’s cheek and tug him down into a finish line kiss. With a brush of his tongue over your bottom lip and one final thrust, you hurl into a sea of white light and neverending euphoria. 

Chan follows you with a loud howl, clinging to your body as if you’ll disappear any second. Beneath your haze of pleasure, you feel his hot release paint your insides and warm you to the core. He places a hand over your lower stomach before collapsing against your immobille figure. 

Carefully and gently, you coax Chan to sit up enough so you could see his face. Heavy gasps fell from his lips, attempting to regain lost air. You also notice how heavily he was shaking. Your whisper breaks the afterglow of silence, “You’re trembling…” 

He shakes his head with a crooked smile, “Don’t worry, I’ll be okay…” 

You caress the sweaty locks from his forehead and lean forward to place a long peck to the center. While one hand rubs at his back, the other scratches at his left, furry ear. A rumbling purr emerges from his chest as he lowers to lay against your chest. 

“Chan?...” 

He hums tiredly. 

“I forgive you.” 

No other words are said. And no other words need to be said. The two of you continue to bask in the heat of each other’s bodies long into the moonless night. Slumber never approaches, only loving touches and beating hearts call for contentment. And even when morning comes, neither of you move from your tight embrace until the sun is high in the sky and the foreboding calls of a harsh reality sound. 

***

“Changbinnie-hyung, how much longer?” 

Changbin sighs at the youngest fox’s repeated question, but answers nonetheless, “Soon, Jeongin. Two or three hours at most.” 

“We’ve been driving all day. Shouldn’t we be there by now?” Hyunjin questions. You smile at the sight of Seungmin’s head leant against his shoulder, his ears as droopy as his eyelids. It didn’t take long for the two to make up after the quarrell, especially after Minho and Chan explained the bigger situation to everyone. 

Minho, up in the driver’s seat again, answers this time, “You better shut your damn trap before I throw you out of this car.” 

The dalmatian makes no move at pressing his luck. You can’t blame the kid. 

“Someone’s a little cranky.” You murmur to yourself. 

“You try driving with this chatterbox next to you for twelve plus hours.” 

Shit. You forgot about his enhanced hearing. 

“(Y/N)-ah, are you feeling better?” You turn to meet Woojin’s concerned gaze and attempt to ease his worry with a soft smile. 

“Actually, I am. I think the drug is wearing off.” 

Ever since you woke up with Chan, you haven’t had any issues involving headaches, agitation or even nausea. Even those weird flashes of yellow just stopped. You and Chan talked about it earlier, but you think it has something to do with your unique DNA. Although you’re human, the hybrid genes in your blood probably eliminated the drug from your symptoms along with any countering effects. You wish it worked faster, but you have to take what you can get. 

Things might work out for the better after all. 

“Look! It’s Miroh!” Your eyes snap up to where Jisung is pointing. Your heart both lurches and pulses at the view of the city, miles and miles away. Buildings were lit up like holiday lights in the pitch black of night; a memory of the zoo and your aunt pops into your head. You smile. 

She would have loved to see that. 

“What are we gonna do once we get to Yellow Wood, Channie-hyung?” Seungmin sits up from the dalmatian’s shoulder, only to wrap a tight arm around his chest and pull him into his side. 

Chan shrugs, “Whatever we want. We can go anywhere, do anything.” 

“Can we going swimming in the ocean? Like the history books talked about?” Jeongin pipes up. His words laced with childish and innocent hope. 

The wolf chuckles, “Those sound like great ideas, Innie.” 

“Where would we live, though?” The orange tabby calls from the front, earning a sharp glare from the coyote. Felix turns completely around to face Chan and tilts his head, “There’s probably no shelters in tact or any civilizations…” 

“Why not a treehouse?” Your offer erupts the vehicle into chaos. The 00 line and Jeongin burst into discussions of possible layouts and materials to build the actual houses. Through your peripheral, you catch Chan staring at you with eyes of love and admiration. His gaze brings a heated blush across your cheeks.

“We’re definitely living in a treehouse! Like in that one old movie…” 

Seungmin finishes for Hyunjin with an annoyed sigh, “Jumanji..?” 

“Yeah!” 

You giggle, “Sounds like a plan.” 

Before anyone can extend any more suggestions regarding the plan of the treehouse, the vehicle jerks and swerves to the side. You stretch your arms outward to protect Jisung and Jeongin from being thrown out of the window. Minho slams on the brakes, coaxing the car to an unsteady stop. He mutters a curse before shaking his head, “Shit. We blew out a tire. We’re gonna have to go the rest of the way on foot.” 

“We’re close though.” Chan adds while helping the younger hybrids out of the jeep. Woojin and Changbin proceed to empty the inside and hand everyone their respective bags and suitcases. 

You help Jeongin slip his bag around his shoulders before grabbing your own, “Yeah. We’ll be there before you know it.” 

You take up the lead with Chan, who grabs your hand, lifts it up and presses a peck to the back of your knuckles. You both are met with a chorus of disgusted groans and whistles which steal laughs and chuckles from your throats. Lugging his suitcase along, you follow Chan as he makes his way deeper into the forest. The rest of the boys not too far behind. 

“We’re looking for some sort of lock for that key, right?” 

Chan nods, “Yep. I hope it’s not too hard to find.” 

“I just wish we knew what we were looking for.” You sigh while gazing longingly through the array of shadowy tree trunks. “I mean, it could be anything for all we know.” 

“Hey. We’ll find it.” The wolf sends you a supportive smirk, “And maybe once we’re alone again, you’ll allow me a bite of my favorite snack…” 

“You’re such a dork.” Your groan pulls a loud laugh from your lover’s throat. You can’t help but smile, “I love you.” 

“I love you more, my mate.” 

You shiver, “Still getting used to that.” 

“Don’t act like it doesn’t turn you on.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

You, Chan and the other boys move deeper through the forest until you emerge at yet another open field. Your eyes widen when you notice a looming structure just about a hundred feet or two up ahead. It was a stone wall, cracked with age and home to hundreds of patches of vines and moss. You’ve never seen something so tall in your life, even skyscrapers back in Miroh’s capital couldn’t compare. 

“Holy shit. That’s the border, isn’t it?” 

Minho’s call carries from behind your shoulder, “We did it! We fucking did it!” 

“I can’t believe it.” Seungmin gasps. “It’s so tall.”

Felix shakes his head, “How do we get through it?” 

“It looks like there’s some type of gate just up ahead.” You point to the iron barred gate hinged in the exact middle of the tall border. Like the rest of the wall, it looked completely abandoned and unguarded. Border patrol was never an issue, since there’s nothing beyond Miroh’s limits. At least, that’s what you originally thought. 

“Good eye, (Y/N). Let’s head out-” 

“-Wait!” Everyone freezes at the frantic yell of the bengal hybrid. You angle your head to peer at the boy, discovering his eyes to be blown wide and large ears rotating back and forth. Your skin crawls when the rest of the boys tense, and for once, you wish you had super senses like them. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…” Changbin growls, his head whirling up toward the sky. You follow, attempting to see whatever him and the other hybrids were startled by, but discover nothing but stars and a waxing crescent moon. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Helicopters.” Chan replies in a mellow tone, “We have to move now.” 

“No way! If they see us, it’s game over!” Seungmin argues before gesturing back toward the trees, “We should hide until they go away.” 

“I don’t understand how they found us in the first place. (Y/N)-noona, you don’t have a tracker, do you?” 

You shake your head at Jisung’s inquiry, “Nope.” 

“Guys…” Everyone turns to look at Jeongin. His ears were downcast and eyes wide with fright. He spins around and bends his neck to show the unnatural bump at the base of his neck. The size of a tiny tracker. “I didn’t realize I still had it until you guys mentioned it…” 

“Fucking hell, Jeongin…” Minho groans while feverishly shaking his head. “Goddamn it, we’re screwed.” 

“We have to make a break for it. It’s the only chance we have.” Chan urges, “Once we get outside the border, they won’t follow us.” 

“We have to get there first.” Woojin quickly, with the help of Felix, slices at Jeongin’s neck and removes the metal device. He crushes it in his palm and throws the pieces into the grass, “I say we split up. One group goes left and the other goes-” 

You interrupt, “-No. All of us should just go for the gate. Chan can get there first, open it and get us through before they get down here.” 

“(Y/N)’s right. We just have to run.” Chan tosses his suitcase to the side. Everyone else follows his lead, eliminating any variables that could decrease your chances of success. You gather into a line with Jisung and Chan at your sides. You throw the bengal a determined look before turning to the awaiting gate.

Bright, intimidating searchlights illuminate your path, almost as if leading you to your doom. You will the negative thoughts to subside and instead focus on the good that will arise out of this. You and the boys will escape. You will be free. You will be happy. 

It all comes down to this. 

With your heart pulsing in your ears and the thoughts in your mind roaring, you barely hear Chan’s yell: 

“Now! Go! Go!” 

You take off at the signal, not too far behind Jeongin and Changbin. Jisung, Hyunjin and Felix take up the front and are first to enter the eyes of the lights. Alarms and screams sound within your ears, but you can’t tell if the screams are yours. Chan passes you and the other boys. Like lightning, he dashes straight toward the gate. 

Too focused on the wolf, you fail to notice the rocks of the terrain and trip. You go flying and crash rather painfully onto the earth. Your hip screams in pain, the sound traveling past your lips. You almost panic. Key word: Almost. 

Minho appears behind you and yanks you to your feet, “Goddamn it, (Y/N)-ah, c’mon! Run, run!” 

The boys were already so far ahead of you, maybe seventy five percent of the way to the gate. Still unmoving, you take a peek at the helicopter situation and discover maybe three or fours birds hovering in the night sky. Silhouettes emerge from the open hatch of the closest one and slide down what seems to be a rope ladder. The closer you look, the more you realize how much you underestimated their speed. There had to be at least a dozen guards already on your tail. You check the front and spot Chan and Changbin struggling to force open the gate. 

You’ll never make it. 

“(Y/N)-ah, what the fuck are you doing!? Run, goddamn it! Run-!” 

“-Minho, listen to me!” You take the coyote by the shoulders and shake your head, “I’m the one they want. You guys will be able to get out of here if I-” 

Minho hisses, “-Don’t you fucking dare spew your bullshit hero complex right now, (Y/N)-ah. If we get out, we all get out-” 

“-It’s not going to happen, Minho! Look around us! We’re surrounded!” You check the distance of the guards again, not happy to find them a lot closer than before. In a matter of minutes, they would reach you and the others hybrids. “Let me save you guys! One last time!” 

“I already said it’s not fucking happening! If we go, you go!” With that, Minho grabs your wrist and forces you to move. Chan and Woojin were all working to help each one of the youngsters climb through a hole they were able to create near the top of the gate. 

Changbin notices how far behind you and the coyote are and yells, “Minho-hyung! (Y/N)-ah, hurry!” 

You both reach the gate faster than you would have thought, but it’s still not enough to separate enough distance between you and the approaching guards. Chan and Woojin help Changbin up and through the exit, followed by Minho. 

Chan nods, “(Y/N), help me with Woojin.” 

The two of you work together to lift Woojin up. His weight is painful on your already aching body, but you persevere through the pain. The bear manages to squeeze through the hole, and with the help of the hybrids on the either side, land safely. He gestures for you and Chan to come next. 

“You first, Chan.” 

He shakes his head with a sneer, “I’m not falling for this again, (Y/N). You’re going-” 

“-There’s no time to argue! Just-” 

A gunshot and Chan’s pained scream disrupt your demand. Your gaze falls to see a bullet wound right in the center of Chan’s calf and you’re quick to support him before he can fall. You shake your head and curse, “Fuck! You have to go now! Right now!” 

“I’m not leaving you!” 

“Goddamn it, Chan! Guys, help me!” 

“No! Get her up first!”

To your disappointment, the other boys follow their leader and through the bars, help Chan raise you so you can reach the hole and crawl through. You collapse to the grass with a loud thud before scrambling to your feet. Just in time, you see the guards fall upon the wolf. 

“No! Stop!” You screech, fighting against Minho’s grip on your arms. “I’m the one you want!” 

“(Y/N), don’t-“

You wrench from the coyote’s grip and launch up toward the way you came in. Your legs are grabbed before you can crawl back through, but you hold on for dear life. Turning to the closest guard, you scream, “I’ll go with you willingly, if you let him go!” 

Chan growls, “No, (Y/N)-“ 

“-Take me instead!” 

The guards all look at each other, seemingly having some sort of telepathic debate. You kick your legs away from the boys just in time for the head guard to nod. 

They help you back on the other side before turning to help a screaming and struggling Chan. They manage to push him though and you watch him fall to the grass on the other side with tears of relief. A burden that has remained on your chest for so long finally lifts. And you see nothing but the nine hybrids standing on the other side of the border. 

Finally free from Miroh. 

Even when fingers close around your arms and yank you away from the gate, you don’t look away. Chan and Minho and all the other’s screams of your name go unheard against the blood rushing through your ears. You don’t even try to struggle, because what’s the point? 

Your main objective is already done: 

You found Stray Kids, and now they’re finally free. 

It’s all over… right?...

[musutofu]

【 Round Trip 】 Drabble

♡ pairing | ᵞᴬᴺᴰᴱᴿᴱ Shouji x ᶠᴱᴹ Reader ✑ word count | 1.7k ✎ genre | yandere ✗ warnings | kidnapping, mentions of pregnancy prompt | 33. “Do you really think you can get away from me?”

Memories are a curious thing. Flimsy and finicky, unreliable with the finer details of things while still holding truth in the broader strokes. Trying to see into the past as it’s been recorded by your mind is like looking at an old photograph that’s been left in the sun for too long. It’s dried and cracked around the edges, brittle to the touch. The slightest prodding at the loose ends of a feeling or sound could lead to it crumbling to dust as you try to keep it in the palm of your hands. And like the dust of former memories you’re beginning to lose yourself in the passage of time. Sunlight has leached your colors into a pale rendition of your former glory, bleached out spots of detail completely until you’re not certain what had filled the space once upon a time. It feels like you’re still there–the old you–standing just at the edge of your periphery, out of focus and only slightly tangible but every time you try to look the wraith strays further from sight. Soon, if you sit idle and let yourself erode to dust, there’ll be nothing left to grasp at. You’ll be gone. And a new person that isn’t you will be left to fill the empty shell left behind. But, if there’s one thing you remember about your life from before, it’s that you were never one to take things lying down. You got up and you fought. In your currently degraded state it’s hard to imagine standing up for yourself at even the smallest grievance and such a large offense that looms behind you has made you turn tail and run. And, for better or worse, you have no choice but to keep going. The deed is done, the betrayal completed. There’s nothing but rage left in your wake and memories of past punishment ring clear in your mind. The sharp, metallic taste of blood floods your mouth at the thought and your jaw pops open to be certain you haven’t bitten a hole in your tongue. You haven’t. The only lingering pain that’s physically tangible are aged a few hours. Throbbing bruises decorate the skin of your thighs and hips, dark bruises across your neck and chest in the shape of half moons; the fruits of your laborious night. A joyous occasion that trumped any and all physical boundaries and left you battered and bruised. “Mommy,” you jump in your seat, so lost in the liberation of the journey that you’d forgotten you absconded with a passenger. “I have to use the bathroom.” In the backseat your daughter is squirming in her car seat, hands wringing her seatbelt as she rocks forward and back as if she’ll be able to fling herself out of it with enough momentum. “Sit back, Chie-chan. It says there’s a rest stop at the next exit. Can you hold it for a little longer?” She slumps back in her seat with a huff, scrunching her nose at you in the rear view mirror in a way that makes her look like an angry puppy. She’s inherited much of her father’s appearance, including his elongated face. For a moment you find yourself annoyed with her just for looking the way she does. Having the audacity to even remotely resemble him while in your presence, but you catch yourself before you can go further down that dark path of resentment. It’s never the child’s fault for being born and if not for your daughter, your life would be only darkness. All the light in recent memories are because of her and you find the heinous thoughts of hatred rescinding from where they intruded. As you wait outside the bathroom for Chie to come out you wonder if your absence has been noticed yet. Probably. Shouji’s schedule rarely changes and he’s been getting home around this time every day recently. It’ll be a few hours before he realizes you aren’t returning and, if you’re lucky, a few more until he’ll be able to find you. The plan is to be on a plane overseas by then. Just as you’re strapping Chie back into her car seat, your phone rings. You’d been certain to turn off all location services and log out of any SNS accounts you’d had open in the hopes of going incognito but without turning it off or, at the least, to do not disturb, Shouji can still try to contact you. And he has. A picture of him lights up your screen as you pull out of the parking lot going only a little over the speed limit. “Chie-chan,” she’s happier now, perking up at your sing-song tone. “Remember how I told you we’re playing hide and seek with Daddy?” She nods excitedly. “That means we can’t tell Daddy where we’re going, so when I pick up don’t mention it or we’ll lose, okay?” “Okay, Mommy!” You answer the call on the sixth ring, putting it on speaker and passing the phone back to Chie. As expected, Shouji isn’t happy with your disappearance. His voice is tight with repressed anger as he greets you. “Honey,” he’s trying his best to not sound upset, “where are you?” “Hi, Daddy!” Chie says before you can make up a lie. She starts babbling on about her day in that way all kids can. A constant stream of information that doesn’t stop for a breath and adds in the most minute details lest you not know what color her shoes are today. Shouji doesn’t interrupt her but you can hear him moving in the background, probably pacing at the thought of you slipping through his fingers after years of keeping you under lock and key. He trusted you not to run from him after all these years and it makes you wonder why you did. Beside the obvious kidnapping and forced lifestyle as a Hero’s housewife he’d been the perfect husband, but something inside you broke last night and the suffocation you’d felt in the beginning came back with full force, weighing heavier and heavier on your chest until you’d made it out the front door. The feeling of weightlessness has only gotten better as the miles fall away behind you. “Mommy!” The car jerks as you jump again, always so afraid of the slightest reproach, even from your child that’s so much like your husband. She’s looking at you in the mirror with those big, dark eyes as if you’ve missed something important. “Yes, baby?” “Daddy asked if you went to the doctors today.” Your hands tighten on the steering wheel at the memory. It was all feigned excitement and empty thanks as the doctors congratulated you on your pregnancy and healthy baby. It was the only reason Shouji had left you the car keys. When you were pregnant with Chie he took you to all the appointments himself, not wanting to give you a chance to run. Unfortunate for him that he thought you wouldn’t now. “I did!” The persona is back. The perfect wife that will surely become your permanent personality if you’re caught. She’s sweet and docile, answering everything with an innocent, coquettish tone. “It’s too early to know if it’s a boy or a girl, but they’re healthy. The doctor gave me some vitamins.” “Mommy, are you sick?” Chie is suddenly upset at the mention of medicine. “No, baby, Mommy is fine.” Shouji soothes her. “She just has to take special medicine so your new brother or sister can grow big and strong.” “I want to meet them.” She’s pacified by her father’s words and you’re glad for it as the airport comes into view. Your takeoff time isn’t for a few hours but you’d rather not start the wait with a distraught child. “Soon, baby. We’ll meet them soon.” It could be all in your head but it sounded like he put extra emphasis on “we” and you’re not sure you like that indirect promise. We means together and together means going back. You take the phone from Chie after pulling into the parking lot. Before Shouji can protest, Chie pouts her goodbyes and hangs up. You let her keep your phone to watch cartoons as you wait at the terminal. Somewhere between episodes five and six, you doze off. Wakefulness finds you much more comfortable than when you’d fallen asleep, the scratchy cushion of the plastic airport chairs doing little to cradle your body as you slept. The cushion beneath you now is decidedly more comfortable and you roll over to indulge in a few more moments of relaxation, though it drains away immediately as your nose catches on a scent that will be forever ingrained in your memory. It’s the distinctly masculine scent of Shouji and as you gain your bearings, suddenly fully awake, you realize it’s all around you. The walls of the cage you’d thought you’d escaped are looming up around you as Shouji’s arms lock you to your bed, hands trapped between your bodies now that you’ve rolled towards him. He knows you’re awake. His hand gently traces shapes up and down your spine as you try your best not to cry or scream and wake Chie from where she’s probably sleeping in her room down the hall. “I know you’re awake, honey. Can I see those pretty eyes?” You indulge him, but only because you fear what he’ll do if you don’t. He’s being kind now, but that can surely change after the stunt you’ve pulled today. “There she is.” He coos at your tearful eyes. “How did you find us?” “Do you really think I’d let you use the car with no way to track it. You running off was always a possibility. I didn’t want to take my chances no matter how good you’ve been as of late. Do you really think you can get away from me? Do you honestly think I’d let you run off with my children?” His hand caresses the skin of your stomach as he goes on. “I’m yours. You’re mine. You’re my wife and the mother of my children. I want you here,” he’s whispering now, cuddling you closer to his chest. “So don’t try to leave me again. If you do, I’ll chain you to our bed.”

[jimlingss]

Head Over Heels to Hell

➜ Words: 27.5k

➜ Genres: 80% Fluff, 20% Angst, Childhood friends To Enemies To Lovers!AU (it’s a roller coaster), Reverse Soulmate!AU, Historical!AU (kind of)

➜ Summary: Some people are destined to never have a soulmate. You are one of the few. Instead, you have something much different - a parasite set out to destroy and ruin your life no matter where you run to.

➜ Warnings: Mention of death and a shit ton of other things - I promise it's not too angsty but still tread carefully. Implied smut & slight historical inaccuracies.

➜ Notes: My god, I wrote this back in April. But honestly, I’m so fucking proud of it. This is probably my most favourite Hoseok story I’ve written up to date. Dare I say, it might even be masterpiece level. Anyways, I’ve been super excited to share this. Enjoy!

Cr.

Each person born is destined for one or perhaps several, fated to fall in love with their other half or a fragment of themselves. Whether it be a whirlwind of romance rendezvous, a heated passion pressed between sheets or a comforting presence by your side that makes a home a true home - each individual has a chance to make their heart feel full, their soul fulfilled and the void feeling that lingered while they travelled through life on their own disappears.

 You, however, are not so fortunate of an individual.

 “A few folks in the world don’t have a soulmate.” The old woman sighs while looking out from her porch. You sip on your juice box, swaying from side to side on your toes next to the rocking chair. “I can see it in your eyes, dear. A bachelorette. You’ll be alone for your entire life and the next to come.”

 You quirk your head to one side. “What’s a bachelorette?”

 You can’t comprehend what your grandmother is saying. She’s using such complicated words that your dad hasn’t taught you yet but you aren’t very concerned with it either. Any second now, your mom will emerge from the kitchen with ants on a log and you’ve made sure you finished your breakfast this morning to be able to eat them. Also, your mom says your grandmother is old and her mind isn’t as sharp as it used to be, whatever that meant.

 Did that mean she was crazy? If she’s crazy then that’s not good. But maybe crazy is fun and exciting. Oh! That little doggy that wanders around the yard is also fun and exciting. Speaking of which, where is it?

 “It means you won’t be able to experience love.”

 Your grandmother snaps your attention momentarily back into focus. You peel your eyes away from the verdant green lawn to the wrinkles surrounding her experience yet tired eyes. “At least, you can experience it but nowhere near the amount that soulmates would feel. Instead of a soulmate, you have something much different, Y/N.”

 “What is it?”

 For once, the sorrow and pity laced in her features has melted off. The old lady smiles at you and pets your head lightly. “You’ll find out someday.”

 Without fully understanding the weight of her words, there will come a day when you look back and regret not taking heed of the warning.

Fate decides to begin smiling down at you at four years old.

 Barely able to walk on your own two feet without wobbling, your mother sends you off to preschool with a bright knapsack and brand-new shoes. You aren’t aghast to be without her but more so, bewildered that there are so many miniature humans like you in the confines of such a small space. “Y/N?”

 Your name being called has you flopping your head to the ceiling where a young lady with an apron tied around her waist is grinning. “You’re Y/N, right? Welcome to our little Buttercup Daycare!” The teacher squats down to meet your height. “We’re just having a little playtime now before all the kids get here and we do some crafts together. Is there something you’d like to play with?”

 It’s then that you confirm you quite like this lady. She’s very nice and pretty.

 Your tiny arm raises, finger moving from your fist to point at the pink princess castle in the corner. She smiles and ushers you over. “Great choice! Do you like princesses?” You nod at her question, and she hums, watching as you open the door and study the plastic building. “You know, Emily really likes to play with princesses too! She would be a great friend. I should go get her.”

 No. No. No. You don’t want a friend. You want to play with the teacher- “Oh…”

 Before you were able to turn around and voice your opinion, the lady has disappeared in the sea of children. You whip your head around, standing on the tips of your toes to catch sight of her but the struggle is fruitless.

 Suddenly, it hits you hard. Your mother is gone. Your father is at work. The teacher is nowhere in sight and all these rambunctious strangers are scaring you. They’re shouting, screaming, running, giggling - it’s sheer madness.

 With the blind courage of a four-year old, you bravely step into the crowd, yelping when a stranger bumps into you, whimpering when a block is thrown at your foot, crying softly as someone steps on your shoes. It’s no wonder that you get pushed aside so easily when even a gust of wind could knock you off your feet. But this time, it isn’t a mere nudge.

 Like a swift current, a stream of children running indoors when they’re not supposed to, accidentally collides into your little body, shoving you aside and you're pushed to the ground. A shock ripples throughout your frame, knees bruised, palms met with the rough carpet. You’re absolutely stunned, unable to grasp what just happened but in the delayed second, as pain shoots up your bones, you break out into horrific and heart wrenching sobs.

 “Owie…”

 “Stop crying.” In the midst of the chaos, you rub your eyes with your little fists, lifting your chin to meet the tall shadow looming over you. The stranger wears no smile, oddly familiar in a way you can’t understand and his cold gaze doesn’t make you waver or scared. Instead, your eyes follow his command, halting the tears that were falling like raindrops. “Only babies cry. You’re not a baby.”

 The boy should be the same age as you. Should because no child should have such a fixated stare and serious expression. There are only a few inklings that show his youth, the pitch black hair that looks more like a ruffled cloud, strands poking out in every direction, the low height and stature that may be smaller than your own body and the navy green overalls splattered with colours that are not supposed to belong there.

 “Stand up.”

 He holds his hand out to you, palm facing upwards. You sniffle for a moment, letting the remaining salt water drip down your cheeks and then your arm reaches out.

 Your hand clasps his and the boy lifts you off your feet.

 “My name is Y/N.” You smile at him happily, giggling when he tries to shake off your grip but fails to do so. You fear if you’ll let him go, your new friend will disappear into the pandemonium. “What’s your name?”

 “Hoseok.” He sighs when he realizes that you’re going to stick around him now. But he decides you both might as well do something together. “You wanna paint?”

 You loll your head, following his finger that’s pointed to the round table with the green stools and brushes laying on the watercolour sets. Hoseok patiently waits for your answer and you give another toothy smile, letting your dress twirl when you look at him again. “Okay!”

 Four-years old is when you meet Jung Hoseok at preschool and you become stuck to his side like gum, declaring him as your best friend while discovering his enjoyment for painting; how he marks up white printer paper until it’s drenched in vivid hues, scribbling with brushes until all the brush hairs has fallen off. Even if he doesn’t want to admit it, you’re his greatest friend!

 “Paint me! Paint me!”

 “No.” He ignores your crestfallen expression. “Don’t wanna.”

 It’s too difficult to hold back the sadness and you can’t help but cry, “Why?”

 The boy huffs out, turning away from you until you face his backside. “Cause I said so.”

 It’s not like he doesn’t want to. Hoseok would paint you if he could. But there’s not really a colour in the watercolour set that could be used to show how brightly your eyes shine.

 Plus, he knows he’s not that good. It would be mean to make you ugly. Especially when you’re far from it in reality.

 //

 Fate’s smile never ceases its smile. Even when years pass and you’re slowly getting a better grip on yourself, it seems like life has always shown you a better side of itself. Well...for the most part at least...

 “Y/N, why are you disrupting class again?” The teacher at the front slaps down her whiteboard marker on the metal ledge, exhaling and giving you a hardened glare. “Do we need to have another chat outside?”

 You wince from the sharp tone, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as the class of thirty students have turned around to stare at you. “I’m sorry.” You sink lower in your desk seat. “I-I can’t find my writing journal. I think someone stole it…”

 The teacher scoffs. “Well does it look like we’re writing, right now? We’re doing social studies, so please, sit up straight and open your textbook to page one hundred seventy-four. Now. Please.”

 Everyone turns back to the notes on the board and you downcast your head, trying your best to pay attention but to no avail. To the side, a friend offers some consolation through a warm smile, though before she can lean over and whisper to you, the teacher gives the both of you the stink eye. The old woman’s voice drones on and on about the geography of the world, explaining a worksheet and what shade to use when colouring the countries in.

 As an eight-year old, third grade was the worst.

 Not only was the teacher mean to you, the classes were boring and you didn’t have that many friends. Most of the girls didn’t like you very much since you didn’t like to play with dolls anymore and you weren’t that interested in discussing crushes or soulmates. You liked to write but they thought that was boring. Friends or no friends, it was fine by you. But it was still kind of lonely.

 “I still can’t find my journal.”

 The teacher, sitting at her desk, looks up at you with her reading spectacles perched on the tip of her nose. “Well that’s what happens when you’re too irresponsible with your belongings, Y/N. You should learn how to be more organized.”

 “But I left it inside my desk in the corner like always!” While defending yourself, your voice moves up a pitch, and she seems to get annoyed from the sound. “It’s not fair! I think someone took it!”

 “Don’t be ridiculous! The door’s always locked.” She sighs, exhausted from having to reason with an illogical child. “Stop blaming other people for your mistakes, Y/N. If it’s lost, then it’s lost because of you. You’ll just have to re-do all the assignments and entries I gave.”

 “But-”

 “I don’t tolerate any back talk. Now go outside like you’re supposed to. The bell doesn’t ring for another twenty minutes.” The woman doesn’t offer any more chances as she turns back to her stack of papers, thirty booklets full of worksheets that were handed in and had to be marked by the end of the week.

 You open your mouth to retort but a staggering breath leaves instead. Your shoulders droop with defeat and you force yourself to drag your feet out of the classroom, frame quivering with sobs threatening to break through your throat. The hallway grows blurry in your vision, clouded with tears but you clench your fist, nails digging into your skin, repressing the urge to cry.

 “Y/N?”

 You slowly turn around at the familiar voice and quickly, you wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie. “Hey, Hoseok. What’s up?”

 “Nothin’. Are you okay?” He steps forward, meeting you halfway and you meekly nod.

 “Ms. Choi is a mean witch so it’s whatever.”

 Hoseok laughs and you find your lips upturning at the sound.

 One of the biggest reasons third grade completely sucks is because Hoseok isn’t your best friend anymore. Actually, he hadn’t really been your friend since two years ago when you entered first grade. It seemed like in your school, girls hung out with girls and the boys would do their own thing. As much as you disliked it, you couldn’t do much when your friends pulled you away to the other side of the playground where the park benches were and Hoseok was off at the field playing soccer with his other classmates.

 You can’t actually remember the last time you talked to Hoseok. Anytime when you did, whether it be during class or outside, your peers would ask you if you liked him or if you’re dating or if he’s your soulmate. You don’t even know what any of that means.

 (Also, there’s the whole rumour that you can catch germs from boys but you don’t think that’s right).

 “Did you find your journal?”

 “No.” You whimper, downcasting your head at the reminder and afraid that you’ll really begin to start crying. It would be so humiliating to do it in front of him - you’d never return to school again. “I think it’s lost.”

 “It isn’t.” He smiles and reveals what’s hidden behind his back, unbending both his arms and thrusting it out in front of you. A gasp spills from your lips and your doe eyes dilate from the recognizable bright green cover. “I found it in the lost and found.”

 You grasp at the notebook, taking it into your hands, feeling the metal coil beneath your fingertips and the wrinkled pages full of erasing, scribbling and doodles. “Thank you.” You choke out words of gratitude, grinning so widely that your cheeks might burst and your eyes well up with happiness. “Thank you. I-I thought it was gone forever. I thought it was stolen.”

 “By Seokjin, right?” He smiles when you nod. “Yeah, I think he stole my pencil too. I lent him a sharper once and it was gone by the end of the day. No one believes us when we tattle on him.”

 “You’re the best, Hobi!” It’s a nickname that you haven’t said in a while, and he’s about to mumble something back but you smother him in a tight hug. Hoseok pretends he’s being choked to death, making hacking sounds and muttering your name but you don’t let up. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

 “Yeah, sure.” He uses all his strength to rip your arms away from his neck, prying it off in a hurried pace before someone else sees. His breath steadies and he glares at you. But you remain smiling at him, and he scratches the back of his neck, sighing. “I hope it’s okay but I read some of it.”

 “What?” Your eyes enlarge. “You did?!”

 “Yeah.” Hoseok shrugs. “It’s actually not bad but you suck at spelling.” You smile sheepishly at him, acknowledging your bad marks in every spelling pop quiz. “I could fix it for you if you want me to.”

 “Nah, it’s okay.” You don’t want to bother him anymore than you already have. It’s already made you happy enough to have your journal back and to hear that your writing is pretty good; technically he said ‘not bad’ but you’re taking it is a compliment. “Thanks though.”

 The boy in his green plain shirt and trousers is beginning to say something but a hall monitor strides down the hall and whips his head over at the sight of you. “Hey! Aren’t you kids supposed to be outside for recess?!”

 You and Hoseok exchange a startled look before you both book it out the doors together.

 //

 At twelve, fate begins to show its ugly side. Technically not as much as your ugly side.

 It’s painful to admit but you look like the ‘before’ shot of those cosmetic surgery advertisements - bad skin, pimpled face, gawky glasses, braces, awkwardly cut hair, limbs too long — the whole nine yards and more.

 It also doesn’t help that you feel like everyone else looks like they came straight out of a magazine, blown out hair, flawless features, a perfect smile and trendy clothing. So, it’s probably not all in your mind that people are staring and talking behind your back when you walk to your locker or to go to class. Why did puberty have to fuck you up so badly?

 “What are you talking about?” Your friend rests against the washroom counter. “You’re so pretty Y/N. You just don’t see it.”

 The reflection in the mirror says otherwise.

 You look over at her with an unimpressed expression. A lump lodges in your throat when you detect pity in her gaze but you ignore it. “Thanks but I feel really horrible. My skin is itchy and I feel bloated and this is probably too TMI, but my bowel movements haven’t been great.”

 “You’re fineeee.” She emphasizes, flicking a piece of dirt from under her nails. “Trust me when I say it’s a lot worse in your head. No one cares, you know. They’re all too concerned about themselves anyways. But it’ll get better, Y/N. Chin up.”

 “...Thanks.”

 It’s not like you wanted all these insecurities. It just happened to knock on your door, barge inside without a warning and now you constantly feel bad about yourself no matter where you go. The world would be a lot better if it were socially acceptable to wear a plastic bag over your head.

 “I better get back to Mr. Jeon’s math class before he freaks out and sends someone to go look for me.” She checks her phone once and then pats you on the back, standing back on both feet. “See you at lunch, Y/N.”

 “Yeah, see ya.”

 The moment your friend walks out the washroom door, you look back at the silver mirror with a long sigh. No matter what you do, how much foundation or concealer you pack onto your face, it doesn’t help anything. You can either look like a peasant girl or a clown - you’re not sure what’s worse.

 You reach deep into your hoodie pocket, a sleek surface meeting your fingertips and you hesitantly pull the small object out. It’s a lipstick that you smuggled from your mother’s makeup bag this morning. The pink bullet is soft and pretty in hue but you’re aware the moment it meets your mouth, it’ll look like a child trying to play dress-up.

 “All or nothing.”

 You murmur to yourself using some encouraging clichés and then, your hand lifts to dab on the colour. With the lightest touch and your pinky smearing the product, you pop your lips, taking a step back to look at yourself. And wow.

 For once, you don’t feel like a roach emerging from the back of a dumpster.

 You throw open the door, strutting down the hall. Despite no one being around, you feel like a glorious supermodel and the paparazzi are hidden in the corner, your idol waiting with a bouquet of red roses at the end of the aisle, an epic soundtrack playing to each of your steps. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is all you needed to be rich and pretty. Maybe he’ll finally look at y-

 “Y/N?”

 You whirl yourself around, heart stuttering inside your chest. “H-hey Hoseok. What are you doing?”

 The teenager is in a green sweatshirt, baggy jeans and breaking school rules by wearing a snapback hat indoors. He puts down his phone, stuffing the device and his earphones into his pocket and shrugs. “Bathroom.”

 You smile, covering your mouth with your hand. “You’re not skipping class, are you?”

 “Nah.” His hands dig around his clothing and he hums. “Do you have some change I can borrow? I need to buy something at the vending machine and I think I forgot my wallet at home.”

 “Oh, no problem.” You reach into your own pocket before taking out the tiny pink pouch that your aunt gave to you for your birthday. It takes a second until you take out a five dollar bill, lifting it up and into his palm. Your fingertips accidentally brush against his skin and you withdraw your limb like the movement burns you. Hoseok gives you a strange look but dismisses it.

 “I-I don’t have change, just this but you can keep it. You don’t have to pay it back to me.”

 The boy appears stunned and he furrows his brows. “Are you sure?”

 “Yeah.” You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear but realizing that it reveals more of your imperfect complexion, you downcast your head. Hoseok’s stare was becoming too intense anyways. “It’s fine.”

 “Are you going back to class?” he asks and you nod. “We can go together then.”

 “Don’t you need to use the washroom?”

 “It’s fine. I’ll walk you back.”

 “O-okay then.” It’s terribly awkward and you loathe yourself on having such inept social skills. If it were anyone else, they’d probably be able to find another topic of conversation and switch over smoothly, destroying the tense silence but alas, you are only a twelve-year old who has no such natural talent. “How are you? We haven’t talked in a while. What kind of classes do you have?”

 The subject that you do bring up makes you cringe inside.

 Who even wants to talk about school in their free time?!

 Hoseok seems to get an inkling of your inner turmoil since he rips his eyes away from the profile of your face to the end of the corridor, smiling to himself discreetly. “Y/N, we literally have the same classes together. We see each other everyday.”

 “Right.” You recoil, cheeks becoming warm with embarrassment. “Well, we might see each other, but we don’t really talk. You’re always sitting in the back of the classroom.”

 “And you’re sitting in the front.” The adolescent beside you laughs. “Who knew Y/N would one day become the smartest student?”

 “I-I’m not. Plus, I’m sure you get better grades than I do.” It was true, anytime the teacher asked you to hand back tests or quizzes, you snuck a peek at the grade marked in the corner of the page and for every single one, he either got a hundred or close to it. Most of your peers didn’t know but you did. “You’re the smarter one here, I suck at math and science and-.....Hoseok? Is there something wrong?”

 His eyes are fixated on your mouth. “No. You just have a little of pink right there.”

 He points to your cupid’s bow and you reach up, flustered and perplexed that he noticed the makeup you put on. You wonder if it’s bad or if it makes you even uglier than before. “Where?”

 “Almost. To the left a bit.”

 “Here?”

 “To the right. Up. No. Go down a bit. Here, let me do it.” Hoseok pulls you in with a gentle hand on your shoulder and his thumb on his other hand raises to your lips, rubbing away the colour. The touch is feather-light but from the mere proximity, you’re absolutely stunned at what’s happening. Your eyes enlarge, heartbeat pounding in your ears and your mouth fills with cotton.

 Whether he’s actually dense, or he knows the effect you get from him, he doesn’t make any comments. After a moment, Hoseok pulls away. “There. It looks pretty nice, by the way.”

 “T-thanks.” The pair of you walk the rest of the way in silence. It’s only when you’ve reached the classroom door that you notice he’s a few meters behind you, lingering and glancing at the ceiling. “Are you not coming in?”

 He hitches his thumb to the other end. “I have to grab something at my locker so you should go in first.”

 “Okay.” You watch his backside disappear slowly, counting each step the boy takes that increases the distance and leaves you farther away from him. Since when did he become so tall? You’re not sure but all you know is that there’s a feeling inside your chest, depriving from an unknown source and you inhale a breath, taking the leap of courage.

 “Wait. Hoseok.”

 He turns. “Hmm?”

 Perhaps it is destiny that has given you the bravery that you’ve lacked for so many years.

 “I’m sorry for not talking to you more. Sometimes it’s difficult since you’re friends with those guys and I’m-”

 You have no one. You’re not pretty. You can’t socialize well. You’re literally the most boring person on this planet. And you harbour a huge fat crush that inhibits you from making any interaction towards him.

 “We’re both in different circles.” Hoseok finishes your sentence and you laugh stiffly. That too. Yet, despite your self-consciousness and metal self-deprecation, he laughs happily and it alleviates the mood. “No, I get that. Don’t worry about it.”

 “I just think we should talk more. I kind of...miss….you…” You’re mumbling at this point, volume becoming quieter and quieter until it’s a squeak. You don’t even know what the hell you’re saying and your face is on fire. It doesn't help that Hoseok's gazing at you so intently without speaking a single word.

 “...that’s all.” To save yourself from further embarrassment, you quickly turn to the door, hand grabbing the door, ready to twist your wrist and enter inside.

 Except, you never get the chance.

 “Wait. Y/N.” Your old childhood friend has his hand wrapped around your wrist and if steam wasn’t leaving your ears before, now it is. “I lied.”

 “What?”

 “I didn’t forget my wallet. I don’t even need to buy anything in the vending machine.” He diverts his eyes, avoiding your stare and frown of confusion. “The rest of class made a mess, and then they ditched to go to the cafeteria. If you go back, you’ll get in trouble for sure.”

 Even with the delayed response from your end, you can only manage one single syllable. “What?”

 “I’m sorry for lying.” After his stupid classmates had ran wild, throwing paint all over the walls, flipping over tables and desks when the substitute teacher had walked out of the room, they all grabbed their bags and spirited away. The first person Hoseok thought about was you.

 You had left to go to the washroom, unaware of what was unfolding and instead of leaving with his friends, he wandered around till he found you. A sick, twisted part of him was curious to see how stupid and gullible you are - he wasn’t disappointed either. You believed him so easily, he didn’t even need to try. But what Hoseok failed to calculate was his own guilt and his weakness.

 You.

 “You can hate me if you want to, that doesn’t matter.” He reaches to grab the five dollar bill, and he slaps it back into your hands. “And you can snitch to the principal but don’t go back in.”

 “Hoseok.” A smile slips on your lips and you become sheepish. “I don’t hate you. Far from it actually. Just...I could never hate you. You’re still my friend.” Hoseok’s fingers still wrapped around yours, preventing you from entering the horrific classroom and the dollar bill in your other hand proves it so. “So, let’s go?”

 Your friend smiles, releasing his grip and grateful that you don’t want to kick his ass. “Last one to the vending machines has to buy!”

 A gasp sounds from your mouth when he takes off running and you laugh, shouting after him and probably disturbing all the other classes going on. “Hey! That’s so not fair!”

 //

 The class drones on and on. It’s absolutely unbearable. Heads are bobbing up and down, trying to stay awake while some have given up all together, sleeping on their desks with their heads rested in their folded arms. The teacher doesn’t seem to care, continuing with her lesson as it was planned.

 “Soulmates are a very peculiar phenomenon in our modern society today and many scientists have yet to discover the reason as to why since it isn’t very biologically efficient. It doesn’t seem like genetics or family history play a huge part, sometimes soulmates are outright opposites while other times they are very similar to each other. It may just be a psychological occurrence.”

 “All they have been able to conclude thus far is when soulmates meet, both parties experience a euphoria of emotions, each of them enhanced and the effects are very similar to some type of drugs out there. The love and passion are like none other. Typically, there are two types of soulmates that people can have. One, there is literally only one person that is your soulmate. Two, there are several people living in the world that could be your soulmate. It differs with each individual and again, no one knows the answer yet. Perhaps someday we'll know.”

 The only person actually listening is some guy at the front of the class. He raises his hand and the teacher calls upon him. “What about people who don’t have either?”

 “Ah...yes...those folks are...rare and far in between.” The teacher wears a melancholic expression, seemingly a bit uncomfortable with the topic. “People without soulmates can find companionship, but they most likely end up alone, in this life and the next and the next….”

 She concludes with- “it’s unfortunate.”

 Your forehead nearly smacks against the wooden surface of the desk as you’re lulled to sleep but your neck snaps back before you can hurt yourself. Fuck. You rub your eyes, screaming inside your head out of pure boredom. Then, an idea flickers inside your brain and you lean over to your friend sitting beside you in the other row.

 “Hey, I’ll make a bet with you.” At your voice, she perks her head up, eyes sparkling in interest. “Bet Mr. Min won’t visit Ms. Kang today. Five bucks, what do you think?”

 She smirks. “You’re on.”

 Lo and behold, the familiar blonde headed teacher sticks his head through the door, thankfully interrupting class and cracking a few jokes while shocking sleeping students awake with his cheerful voice. As Ms. Kang flirts with the chemistry teacher, your friend giggles while you pull out a crisp bill, handing it to her.

 “Okay, you win this time.” You sulk, looking back into your barren pocket.

 “I’ll bet you one more time.” Your friend grins, starting to have fun since class began. “If Mr. Min doesn’t stay for more than ten minutes, I’ll give you your five dollars back and an additional ten. But if he does stay for over ten minutes, I get ten bucks from you.”

 You contemplate the options, weighing each reward and consequence. It sounded appealing, not only would you get your money back but even more? Plus, Ms. Kang was actually teaching a full lesson today and there was a test tomorrow. Surely, he would leave, so she could continue addressing the class. You smirk at your newfound confidence. “You’re on.”

 In the next twelve minutes, you hand over more money.

 Your friend laughs her head off, clutching onto your stomach and you can only sigh from your multiple defeats. Another classmate turns around and asks what the two of you are up to.

 “We’re making bets.” Your friend wipes away the tears that have welled up. “Y/N keeps losing.”

 “Ooh count me in.”

 Someone else who was eavesdropping swivels around. “Me too.”

 The teacher is still chatting away with Mr. Min at the front of the classroom with a group of students while the rest of you wait in boredom. There’s nothing like an entertaining game with monetary prizes to liven up an atmosphere. “Who wants to bet that she’ll forget to hand out homework?”

 “Let’s bet to see if this paper airplane can go outside the window and into the classroom across from us.”

 “Bet that I can’t sneak out without anyone else noticing.”

 By the end of the hour and by the time the lunch bell has rung, your wallet is completely empty and everyone else has left to go eat. As you collect your belongings, stuffing markers and pens back into the pencil case, grabbing your notebooks and slinging your backpack around one shoulder, you can only hope that time will move quicker.

 “What are you doing?”

 “Oh, hey Hobi.” You smile, watching him grab his water bottle that he accidentally left near his chair at the back. “I’m fucking broke, that’s what.”

 He opens the door and you both walk out together. “You shouldn’t keep making bets with people if you’re always losing. Your gambling skills suck.”

 You exhale, having too many regrets and fearing what your dad will say when you ask him for a second allowance this week. The money from your summer part-time job was gone as well and all you can think of doing is sobbing on your knees, pleading about your penniless lifestyle. “I thought I could win my money back.”

 “Never go to a casino, you idiot.” Hoseok stops by his locker and throws his biology textbook inside. He closes it and walks diagonally down the hall to your own locker where you grab your gym bag for your next class after the bell. “You’d end up wasting your life savings away and you’d be living under a bridge.”

 “Isn’t that where we’re all heading anyway?”

 He laughs and swings his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as you two accompany each other in synchronized steps. It’s a familiar gesture and you’re no longer flustered from being in a close proximity from Hoseok. The infatuation that plagued you during your preteen years has long disappeared.

 High School was a whole nother game, people dating more seriously and futures on the horizon. You couldn’t be very bothered to crush over an old friend when you were more preoccupied with getting into the university you wanted.

 “Why are you glaring at me?”

 “I’m not.”

 At this age, you thought Hoseok would reach his own ugly phase. Puberty tended to affect boys in later years but even at sixteen, the bastard is still decent looking. While you grew more into your skin, learnt to become comfortable in your body and appreciate your flaws for what they are, you expected him to go through a similar thing that you did back then. Yet, never in a day of his life did Hoseok have awkward limbs or bad skin or an awful haircut. Rather, his rounded cheeks were becoming chiseled, his jawline sharper and his hair gelled into a neat fashion.

 And for you, rather than admiring his handsome looks, you’re goddamn jealous of his genetics and beautiful face. Why did fate have to be such an unfair bitch?

 “You spent your lunch money, didn’t you?”

 On cue, your stomach grumbles and you give him a surprised look. “How did you know?”

 “Cause you don’t have any control.” Hoseok reaches over, pinching your cheek and you slap his hand away, cringing at the thought of his dirty fingers clogging your pores and giving you acne. “I’ll buy you lunch.”

 You halt on your toes. He turns around.

 “Wait. Really?!”

 The boy smiles, his grin loosely resembling a heart shape. His eyes crinkle slightly and a bubbling laughter spills from his mouth. “Yeah, but you owe me big time.”

 “When don’t I?” You smile, catching up to him and giving him a good old noogie. “You’re the best.”

 His smile becomes sheepish, and he gazes at you for a long moment, savouring in your touch and presence. “I know.”

 There was something strange about you. From the moment he had met you a decade ago and held out his hand, he always felt a tugging feeling in his chest, as if you were familiar, and he knew you from somewhere else, from somewhere far away. But you weren’t his soulmate.

 Such a thing was impossible for Jung Hoseok.

 //

 The world revolves around the concept of soulmates.

 You didn’t realize it until you became much older and you stepped out from the small schools that you went to, the same classes and circle of friends that shuffled together from one year to the next. College was a time when your world expanded ten folds, where you couldn’t recognize three quarters of your classmates, where campus made you lost every single day.

 It also opened to your eyes to the obsession that people had with soulmates; how some folks were absolute consumed with it, going out to bars to talk to strangers, testing to see if they were a kindred soul, having date after date, entering camps and exclusive clubs to seek out their match, downloading special apps on phones to search for their true love.

 One of the few questions that you were asked quite frequently was: ‘have you found the one yet?’

 Your answer didn’t matter as much as the pitying expressions, the words of consolation of ‘you’ll find one soon’ and how people told their own stories of how they accidentally ran into the person they were meant to be with, and they knew instantly at that second. They always said that no matter where you went, where you’d go off to, your soulmate would end up finding you.

 That’s how fate is supposed to work.

 Except it worked much differently for you- “I’m never going to find my soulmate, am I?”

 “What?” Your dad puts down his spoon, startled and taken back. The dinner table is silenced. “Who told you that?”

 “Some people just take a bit of time.” Your mom smiles to soothe your nonsensical worries. “I know it took me years to run into your dad.”

 You sigh, recalling the memory like it's imprinted to the back of your hand. “Grandma told me I'd be single for my entire life and the next.”

 “Dear…your grandmother was very ill before she died. She just didn't know what she was saying. Don't let it get to you.”

 “She told me that a long time before she passed away.” You look at your parents for an extended moment, holding your breath in your lungs. You're an adult now and you have a right to know the truth. “You guys know it, right? Can you please not lie to me?”

 “Don't give up hope, you hear me?” Your mother lectures, tone becoming stern and unyielding for any retorts or comments. “I don't care what the doctors, nurses and psychologists say or even what your grandma told you. You’ll meet the one.”

 She says it with such certainty, like she's declaring the sun will rise again. “And when you do, you’ll know instantly.”

 You've heard it a million times before, the way your friends have described it, you've even seen it with your own eyes. It's supposed to be a burst of electricity, where the heart stops and the breath gets caught. The universe is supposed to shine in brighter hues, becoming vibrant and louder; happiness will become euphoria and love will become a deepening and familiar companion.

 The gaping hole that individuals never knew existed will be filled. They will no longer walk alone. They'll feel whole. It's everything that Hollywood movies show except it's real. It's perfect. It's a rose-coloured world.

 And all you can do is roll your eyes each and every time you hear it.

 Some people are born without soulmates. There’s no rhyme or reason. It has nothing to do with the way you were brought up, the environment factors or your genetic material. Like some people are innately extroverted or introverted. There’s nothing you can do about it and that thought hurts you even more.

 Your world isn’t rose but a green-coloured world.

 “Wait! Wait for me! Please!”

 Despite your arm waving in the air, heaving breaths shouting through the sky, the bus pulls away from the curb, signalling into the lane. “Fuck!” Your arm tightens around the strap of your bag and you pick up your speed, racing with all your might. “Stop!”

 The heavy rain beats down on top of your head, rattling the inside of your skull. The surroundings have turned into a shade of grey, vision clouded with water droplets clinging onto your lashes, each step splattering puddles onto your pants. But it doesn’t matter that you’re being drenched as if you stepped into the shower. You’re late for class.

 If you miss this bus then you’re done for.

 “I’m here! I’m here!”

 Right where you’re mere meters from the bus’ door, your foot juts out for another leap but you miscalculate your environment and your front toes collide onto the metal pole bus sign.

 “OW! FUCKING SHIT!”

 Pain shoots up your spine and you’re forced to stumble, crouching over and clutching onto your dirtied shoe. The passersby with their umbrellas or under the bus shelter don’t bat a single eyelash and you are alone, under the rain, putting pressure on your wound. It feels like you’ve just broken your foot or a toenail was ripped off, that it’s bleeding in your sock. To top off the agony, like a cherry thrown on top of a sundae, the bus merges and drives off, disappearing in the distant fog.

 “Are you kidding me?!” You sob out to the crying sky, knocking your head back and letting your stubbed toes pulsate and throb inside your shoe.

 You don’t have an umbrella. Your phone is dead. There’s no way you can contact an Uber. Thus, all you can do is limp your way to school in the pouring storm, looking at the roads every so often for a taxi. Fortunately, fate isn’t such a nasty bitch when you catch a yellow vehicle driving down the street. Unfortunately, the taxi doesn’t see you in time and it drives past, too close to the gutter.

 The sewer water splashes like an ocean wave crashing on the shore and if you weren’t drenched before, now you’re soaking wet, drowning in rainwater and sewage.

 “Y/N?”

 A familiar and warm presence appears behind you. Their umbrella drapes over your head, shielding you away from the cold droplets and it patters on the green canopy instead. Instead of bursting into tears like you felt you should, a smile graces your lips. You’ve never been more thankful to have this person around and in your life.

 No matter where you go, he’s always able to find you.

 “Are you alright?”

 “I’ve been having the shittiest day, Hobi. Literally the worst.” You turn around with a massive pout, sulking at your situation and cringing at how your textbooks and laptop in your bag are probably wet as well. “But what are you doing here?”

 He hitches his thumb to the black car parked by the curb. “I was driving past and I thought I saw you. I stopped to make sure. Aren’t you going to be late for class though? Get in my car, I can drive you to school.”

 “A-are you sure? I mean, I’m soaking right now and I can just keep walking-”

 “It’s fine, Y/N.” He grins, patting your head to placate your worries, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder to support you to the toasty vehicle. His other hand is holding the handle of the umbrella, and he tilts it to cover you completely, letting the rain drizzle on his left side. Your old friend doesn’t seem that concerned about getting drenched and momentarily, the pain in your foot has alleviated. “I have class anyways. We’re going to the same place.”

 Before getting into the car, you shift your head to gaze into his softened, brown irises.

 Regardless of what troubles you face, the struggles that present itself, Jung Hoseok is always around the corner. He’s your truest friend, the one who has stood by you for the longest time and the man makes your heart sing soothing lullabies. Maybe you’ll never have a soulmate but at least you have him.

 “Thank you.”

 He grins and you’ve sincerely never felt more gratitude.

 //

 Falling in love with Hoseok is a complete accident.

 Sure, it might’ve been predictable to everyone else since all the cliché romance books and movies always depict childhood friends becoming lovers, unrequited loves and harboured crushes becoming reciprocated, happily ever afters emerging from the horizons. You just never knew it was going to happen to you.

 You might’ve been massively infatuated with Hoseok years ago but you thought you grew out of that phase. At the end of the day, he’s a good friend; someone who watched you pick your nose in preschool, when you shit yourself in kindergarten because you couldn’t control your bowels yet, the time he witnessed when you called your teacher ‘mom’. He’s been through it all, thick and thin, disgusting and all the rancid memories. Your family knows his, mothers that have become friends themselves and fathers buddies. Hoseok was supposed to be a brother to you.

 But lo and behold, you had to catch feelings.

 Fate was a cunning asshole.

 “Sorry for getting your car all wet. I was sitting in class dripping everywhere.” You wring out a bundle of your hair, the damp strands clinging to your neck in an uncomfortable fashion.

 Hoseok, from across the table, wriggles his brows up and down. “Oh, I don’t mind if you’re wet at all.”

 “Shut up.” You roll your eyes, playfully scoffing at the innuendo. Brushing it off, you set aside your laptop to look at your friend. “Thanks though. I think I would’ve been screwed if I had to walk.”

 “Jung Hoseok here to save the day again!” He gives a blazing smile, pretending to be a superhero as he does the superman pose. You laugh, and he lowers his fist, expression melting into a warmer smile. “But is your foot okay? You were limping.”

 You’re surprised that he noticed but you nod. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

 The library is deathly quiet on a Friday at nine o’ clock. There are only a few people sitting around and assistants shelving books. At twenty-one, it isn’t uncommon for your peers to be out at a frat house or crashing a venue around campus, getting wasted and grinding up on each other, maybe meeting ‘the one’ out on the dance floor or at the bar. Hoseok has especially made a name for himself in the years at college, dating around and being the life of the party.

 It’s not necessarily a bad thing but you’ve felt slightly alienated from him since you weren’t big on the whole partying thing. You’d much prefer to curl up on a couch, binging on Netflix and chewing on snacks in the comfort of your own home.

 “Why are you here? Weren’t you invited to any parties?”

 “Nah, I don’t feel like it. Why would I want to go to one when you’re sitting right here.” His greasy remark has you huffing out tiredly, and he giggles. “Plus, who would drive you home?”

 “I can take public transit, you know. It runs until twelve.” You don’t want to be a burden to Hoseok or make him babysit you like a little sister or a pet. If he’s here for the wrong reasons, it would hurt even more than if you were alone. “And aren’t you seeing Yoonji right now? You should probably be out with her instead of me.”

 “No, I’m not seeing her.” He resists the urge to pull on your puffed out cheeks. Hoseok leans his chin in his propped up hand, savouring your sulking expression. “I’m single actually, have been for a long time now. And also, if I hear that you got murdered on your way home or if you slipped on some water and broke a hip, my mom would never be able to forgive me. She’ll burn my entire manga collection and probably run me over with her car.”

 “Of course your mom would.” You stick out your tongue, intentionally ignoring what he said about not dating anyone. “She loves me a lot more than she loves you.”

 “Somehow, I don’t doubt that.” The man lazily flips through his textbook, barely skimming the pages and not reading correctly like how he should be. “Hey, Y/N.”

 “Hmm?”

 “Have you been seeing anyone?”

 Your head perks up from the document on your laptop and you give the most unimpressed expression, arousing laughter from the male. “Do you think I have? No one can love me - I’m unlovable.”

 That and you don’t have a soulmate.

 “That’s not true. I love you.”

 What. No. Wait. He probably means it in a brotherly-friendship kind of way.

 “Righttttt...” You bob your head up and down, narrowing your eyes and forcing yourself to dispel away all your delusional thoughts. “Well, I love you too.”

 “Okay, great.” He looks up from his textbook. “We should go on a date then.”

 “.....” There’s a pause. He waits patiently with a smile. You stare at him. “What?!”

 “It’s really convenient.” He quirks his head to the side, mischief glimmering in his orbs. “I love you, you love me. It works out. So, we should go on a date...unless you don’t want to.”

 “....I-I do but where is this coming from, Hoseok?” You lower your pitch, leaning closer as if someone from the ten tables over could hear. The situation unravelling before you is so sudden that you fail to wrap your brain around it.

 “What do you mean ‘where is this coming from’?” The male gives you a look. “Hasn’t it been obvious? I’ve liked you for years! And wow, I can’t believe you’re making me expose myself to you when you haven’t even bought me dinner yet.”

 He throws his arms over his chest, appearing vandalized but you’re in no mood for jokes.

 “B-but...but…” All those signs that you convinced yourself weren’t signs are actually signs?

 The endeared gazes, the overly affectionate physical contact, the lingering touches, the smiles and late night texts were all indications. Your mind is reeling from memories for the past decade, wondering if this or that was evidence for his hidden feelings. It feels surreal, like a dream.

 You fear if you wake up from it, reality and fate will be much crueler.

 “You don’t need to feel pressured, Y/N.” Hoseok stares down at his textbook, avoiding your eyes and becoming embarrassed about finally declaring his feelings openly to you. His voice is quiet but you can hear each word, carrying a weight that bears sincerity in each syllable.

 “You can say no if you want to, and we can go back to being friends. I just...I never knew if the feelings were mutual and the timing was always off. I tried to date other people but it...didn’t work out.”

 He takes a deep breath, put on the spot and pressured not to mess up. You’re an important person in his life and the last thing he wants is to scare you off forever.

 “What about your soulmate?”

 It’s the first thing that crosses your mind, a concern that is unbearable and one you can’t erase away. What’s the point of creating something more if he’ll meet his soulmate later on. You’ll be left in the dust, alone, forced to face the memories of ‘what happened but could never last’.

 But Jung Hoseok, being the person that he is, always manages to make your anxieties disappear.

 “You don’t have to worry about something like that.”

 It’s too simple of an answer. Yet, like the fool that you are, you trust in him. “Okay. Let’s go on a date then.”

 A grin spreads across his face, one that swells his cheeks and heart. “Right now.”

 You flinch when he suddenly slaps his textbook closed and you follow along, packing away your laptop and pens. Luckily, no one was really around to be angry over the disturbances the pair of you were making. “Right now?”

 Hoseok smiles. “Last one out the library has to pay.”

 Fate is too kind - and you realize so when you become aware that you were never alone.

 “You’re on.”

 //

 Each person born is destined for one or perhaps several. They’re fated to fall in love with their other half, a kindred spirit or soul, or a fragment of themselves. The love could be a whirlwind of romance rendezvous, a heated passion pressed between sheets or a comforting presence that makes home a true home. Each individual has a chance to make their heart feel full, their soul fulfilled and any loneliness is dispelled away.

 You have Jung Hoseok.

 He’s a friend and companion, a partner that you cherish. While one date becomes two and three and five until you’ve lost count, all you know is that soulmate or not, you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of your days with him.

 “That movie was really good, like did you see the part where he came out of the space shuttle to confront her on the planet Neptune? Like wow, I thought he was going to die for sure but he risked his life for her. And then-”

 “Hoseok.” You stop in the parking lot of the theaters, twisting on your ankle to look at him.

 A sweet smile is still on his mouth, and he quirks his head to the side. “Yes?”

 “Can I kiss you?”

 The boy’s taken back and he laughs. “Where did that come from?”

 “I was thinking about it the whole day today.” You play with the hem of your sweater, diverting your attention elsewhere while you murmur softly, “We’ve been on so many dates, but we haven’t really done anything aside from holding hands…..”

 Albeit it was strange to date such a good friend, you still longed to get closer to him.

 Hoseok throws back his head like he’s in pain, and he whines. “I was going to kiss you later before you left but you beat me to it.” He pouts in defeat and then steps closer, cupping your cheeks in his palms with a softened smile. “Of course you can kiss me, Y/N. You don’t really need to ask.”

 Your eyes flutter shut and his close. Together, you move closer inch by inch until you can feel his lips on yours. A smile moves across your face, and he presses harder, tilting his head while you throw your arms around his neck. It’s nice but kind of awkward. The movement is foreign to you, though the pleasant tingles melt any tension in your muscles.

 Hoseok deepens the kiss, making a muffled sound leave your throat, and he savours your taste on his tongue. But suddenly, one moment you feel pleasure and the next, your head begins to throb.

 You don’t pull away, too addicted to his kiss. Then, there’s a burst of electricity.

 The flare rushes to your fingertips, heart stuttering, breath choking you. Underneath your eyelids, the universe halts and then begins to revolve again, faster, louder until it’s deafening and shining in such bright hues that it’s blinding. The happiness that rings through your bones becomes euphoria and love slaps you across the cheek.

 Maybe this is what people described when they meet your soulmate. But no. It’s much different from that.

 You are not so fortunate of an individual.

 An onslaught of memories, versions of yourself across centuries, comes barging through the door in screams. They shout and screech, begging to know as to what the hell you’re doing. The thumping of your head becomes white noise. You pull away from Hoseok like he burns you.

 The boy is as startled as you are, eyes wide, staggering back until he collapses on the concrete ground.

 “I-I remember…”

 You stare at him in sheer horror. “Fuck you.”

 Fate has never once smiled at you, it was cackling. Fate was never kind either, it was absolutely vicious. And instead of a soulmate, you have something much different. Jung Hoseok is a parasite that transcends time, destined to run each path that you take. He is an enemy.

 You’ve finally woken up from the dream.

[16th Century]

 A gentle knock on the door wakes you from your slumber.

 You sit up amidst the silk sheets and the hinges of the massive wooden door creaks. A servant maid peeks her head through the gap and the light from the hallway sheds into the darkened room. “Good morning, your royal highness.”

 “Is there a cause for your disturbance?”

 The tone of your voice rings above the high ceilings and the girl noticeably winces. She keeps her head downcasted. “Yo-your highness, the artisan has arrived.”

 “Is that so?” You hum a thoughtful note before snapping back at her, “then what are you waiting for? Help me prepare.”

 Immediately she enters and draws the heavy curtains away from the window. Sunshine meets your eyes and you find a smile emerging on your lips. She guides you off the bed, helping you splash your face with a cloth, combing your hair back and pinning it up with green ribbons and ropes of pearls. The lace corset is tied tightly around your abdomen, restricting your breathing but you endure it as you study the dress in the mirror. It’s a rather simple dress, a natural waistline and floor length, flowy sleeves and skirt, the jade fabric decorated with golden colours.

 “I think this is perfect, don’t you?”

 You twirl in front a few times and the maid smiles. “Yes, your highness. You look marvelous.”

 Upon being satisfied with her response, you address your servant one last time. “Do not utter a word to the king that I am meeting the painter, understood? If he asks of my presence, tell him I am in the study quarters.”

 “Yes, your highness.”

 The gardens are far away, across towers and courtyards, but you make it there in less than five minutes while hitching your clothing up by the fistful, running in the most unsophisticated manner that would surely cause scoldings from your mother. Yet, you continue on your way nevertheless.

 It’s only a strong gust of wind and an accidental misstep causes you to stumble. You are pushed to the ground, colliding onto the verdant grass, a shock rippling through your body. Immediately, you are shamed. Your knees are bruised, your gown soiled and palms stained with dirt. In the delayed second, as pain shoots up your bones, your bottom lip trembles, threatening to break out into sobs.

 “Do not cry, your highness.”

 You lift your chin and a tall shadow looms over you. The man wears no smile, an emerald circular cloak draped over his shoulders and an embroidered shirt underneath. His gaze is not cold but intense, yet, it does not make you waver or scared. Instead, your eyes follow his command, halting the tears that were to fall like raindrops.

 “Only infants shed such heart wrenching tears.” A soft smile appears across his lips, a fixated stare on your flushing visage but the serious man is the same age as you. His pitch black hair is more like a ruffled cloud, strands poking out in every direction and some paint has splattered on the skin of his cheek. “And I fear it would ruin your beauty.”

 He holds his hand out to you, palm facing upwards. You sniffle for a moment and then your arm reaches out, fingers clasping his and the male lifts you off your feet. The touch is soothing and light, causing your heart to soar inside your chest.

 “Don’t be foolish. I’ve never shed tears before you, understood?”

 You dust off your dress and he grins.

 “Yes, your highness.”

 The man tries to loosen his grip on your hand but fails to do so when you grasp at him tighter, lacing your fingers through his and not allowing him to let go. A snort of air leaves his nose, and he accepts the new position, guiding you deeper into the royal gardens with bushes of foreign flowers and tall trees lining the cobblestone paths, the scent of florals wafting through the air.

 Farther into the quaint and private place, a canvas is set around vivid oil paints and brushes. He has begun to recreate the image of the blooming orchards and you study the artwork that has yet to be completed.

 “My father has commissioned you as the royal painter but why have you not painted me?”

 Your dress twirls when you look at him again. Jung Hoseok, the man who creates another world with brilliant hues, passionately brushing strokes along the canvas, has been by your side for months and here he is once more, smiling at you.

“I cannot, your highness.” He lowers his head. “I fear that there is no paint I could use that would show how brightly your eyes shine.”

 You spin around to face the bushes, cheeks flaming with each praise. “Please, you flatter me too much, painter.”

 “Ah, but my words are too true, your highness.” He paces around and you lock your gaze upon his. “My skills would be no match to the reality of your beauty.”

 You sigh, longing to have the man closer. Each second and minute that passes feels too short.

 “Painter, I fear my lonely soul enjoys your companionship too much. It’s a shame that you were not born of a royal lineage. My father would never allow such a partnership. He would rather let this kingdom crumble than to give my hand to a commoner.”

“I understand your woes too clearly, your highness.” He takes three delicate strides to meet you in the middle of the grassy area, chest pressed upon chest and his fingers lightly skimming over your blooming cheeks. If anyone from the court were to catch you in such a position, the painter’s life would be at risk, but he seems to pay no mind to such thing.

 “And although I hunger to clutch your hand to my chest, embrace your being, declare you as mine and taste those lips with my own, we are but star crossed lovers.” He exhales, sorrow dripping from his honeyed eyes. “Fate is not so kind to folk like us.”

 You turn away from him in despair, staring up at the cerulean sky and wondering if the Heavens could ever grant you mercy in the name of love. “Eventually, I will be wedded off to somewhere far. The thought makes my heart ache in agony.”

 Your voice breaks and you plead with him. “Painter, would it be so shameful for me to ask you for a single kiss?”

 “Of course not, your highness.” He caresses your face and you melt within the touch. Your eyes shut and he leans in closer. “It is my duty to fulfill your wishes.”

 The kiss is the gentlest of touches, lips pressed upon lips, a bittersweet taste that cannot be savoured, a salty hint caused by your teardrop, the deepest of yearnings and aches for more.

 Why must fate be so cruel?

 //

 It is of the midnight hour when the maid comes barging into your room unwarranted without even a single knock. It startles you to the point where you spring up from your silk bed sheets, gasping and ready to reprimand her but the maid’s wheezes and the distant shouting stops you from doing so.

 You climb out of your bed, taking a robe and covering up your sleeping attire. “What is the matter with you? Speak!”

 “R-rebels have stormed the castle,” she weeps, grabbing onto your arm and falling to the ground, kneeling on the floor, crying and sobbing with all her might.

 The shock is delayed. “Pardon?!”

 The young girl shakes her head, trying to regain composure amidst the mournful grieving. “T-they have captured your m-mother a-and your father has been executed.” You stagger backwards, and she crawls to you, gripping the hem of your dress. “Run, princess.”

 She screams- “Run before they catch you!”

 There’s not a single thing in your hands but your life as you flee the castle walls. The rebels are shouting together, holding torches and capturing any royal member as they scour each room and rip apart all the walls. The knights have fallen, advisors and servants alike being severed of their heads. Blood pours down the courtyard and a couple of paces away from the forest, a misstep causes you to collide against the cobblestone, a cry befalling of your mouth, skin scraped and blood trickling from the wounds.

 A tall shadow looms over you. You lift your chin. The man wears no smile. His gaze is cold.

 You smile, sighing of relief and thankful that the painter is here with you. Perhaps, you can flee together and finally live the life that you’ve always wanted. Except, he does not lift out his hand to pick you off your feet, he bends his knees, squatting down and quirking his head as he stares at you.

 “H-hoseok, what is going on?” You begin to waver from the sharp intensity of his eyes. Any trace of warmth has disappeared, and he seems more amused that you have fallen than worried. “P-Please tell me. I’m s-so scared.”

 Tears seep down your cheeks like raindrops. He doesn’t tell you to stop crying.

 Hoseok smirks. The corner of his lip tugs in a menacing way and his fingers reach out to hold your chin. He leans in, placing a small kiss on the corner of your mouth, and then he parts, admiring the confused expression marring your visage. “Oh princess, you are too innocent for your own good.”

 Your voice does not come out strong but weak. “E-explain yourself.”

 “All of this couldn’t have succeeded without your efforts.” He gestures behind him to the castle, your precious home, that was now being set on fire. Screams of the maids and dukes ricochets to your ears, and he doesn’t allow you to cover them up or cower away.

 Hoseok forces you to watch the scorching flames.

 “Not only did you advocate me to the king and allowed me into the castle but you fell in love with me as well and offered yourself fully. Such a foolish yet endearing character.” He shoves you away and stands, dusting his hands off and watching you pathetically cry.

 “And you were right. Your father would’ve been so shameful to have a daughter like you who helped overthrow the kingdom. Too bad he’s already dead.”

 You can’t wrap your mind around it. All of this is too absurd. Surely, it must be a dream. Hoseok would never treat you this way. He would never betray your trust. You love him.

 “W-what?”

 “Do you still not understand?” He looks over to the symbol sewn on his clothing, the green mark of the rebels. Your stomach turns and vomit threatens to crawl up your throat. You claw at your skin, teeth gritted and jaw clenched.

 “Y-you...you liar.” You spit at him, each heavy syllable oozing of venom. “You wretched bastard.”

 Hoseok tips his head back and chuckles. “There is no use in sprouting such vulgarities, Y/N. A revolutionary is needed for the people. They are suffering in ways you will never know. Your ignorance is too great. Life isn’t generous outside of your castle of silks.”

 The betrayal is too much for your heart to bear.

 No amount of rage or sadness, fury or anguish could display the turmoil sewn into your soul, the heartbreak that shatters inside your chest. Jung Hoseok hovers above your small frame. He stares down at you. “But because you demonstrated such benevolence to me and made my job so simple, I will give you ten seconds. Run or the rebels will slaughter you without mercy.”

 Your fragile body hauls itself upwards and despite the screams of your bones, the faintness in your head that swirls the world around, you falter down the hill, racing into the forest. You abandon your people, your family and home, the love that you held onto. You will never forget.

 And you will never forgive.

 Jung Hoseok laughs and gazes at your form. It reminds him of a little sheep running away from a pack of wolves. He muses that it was truly a shame; a shame that you weren’t part of the rebels and merely destined to be star-crossed lovers with him.

 For the rest of your life, you live in the dirty alleyways as a peasant, scraping after other’s leftovers, bugs crawling in your hair and biting your skin, teeth rotting and clothes tattered up. You sob until you can no longer afford to expel water from your body and the short days of your life consists of recalling your warm family and the beautiful life you once had.

 When you die, the last thing you think about is Jung Hoseok and your undying wrath.

[17th Century]

 “Where is my notebook?”

 You’re scouring in the tiny room, searching among the stacks of parchment, quills and bottles of blackened ink, tugging up your wrinkled olive dress. You pull up the smooth narrow sleeves, wincing at the troublesome lace cuffs and you tug on the strings of the small bodice for more breathing space. As you scour your belongings, the bun that was tied to the back of your head begins to loosen and clusters of curls framing your face tickles your nose. The sweat at your forehead slicks down your face and your appearance becomes disheveled in your franticness.

 “My notebook….notebook.” You gasp underneath your breath, standing straight again. “Was it stolen?!”

 There’s a knock and a short laugh. “Did you lose something again?”

 A man in a white linen shirt, dark trousers and a navy coat stands at the doorway, hands held behind his back as he watches you fumble about. “Yes, it’s going to be the end of me, Hoseok, if I can’t find it.”

 “Well, lucky for you-” He takes a few steps forward and reveals what’s hidden behind his back, unbending both arms and presenting it out in front of you. Another gasp spills from your lips and your eyes widen from the familiar leather bound notebook. “-I found it.”

 You grasp at the pages, taking it into your hands and feeling the wrinkled pages full of scribbles and doodles made in ink. You choke out the words of gratitude, grinning so widely that your cheeks might burst and your eyes well up with happiness. “Thank you.”

 “Thank you. I-I thought it was lost forever.”

 The man opens his mouth to reply but you smother him in a tight embrace. Hoseok wheezes, making coughing sounds from the pressure of your arms, and he even mutters your name after a minute but you don’t let go of him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

 “You’re very welcome, Y/N.” He gently moves your arms from his back. “But you should let go of me.”

 If someone were to see, surely rumours would spread like wildfire. Folks in the village were already whispering of how he came and went inside your abode for hours on end and until the sun went down; a gesture such as an embrace would certainly be scandalous and soil your name.

 You comply, loosening your grip, and he slides away from you with a rather striking smile. “You ought to be more organized, Y/N. At this rate, you’d lose your head and I’d have to go looking for it.”

 A grin sneaks up your mouth. “That’s why I have you.”

 The man exhales, continuing on the other subject as you move away. “I hope you do not mind but on my way here, I’ve read the latest entries.”

 “And?” You settle yourself down in the wooden chair facing the windows, preparing a new bottle of ink to begin the next story. “What did you think?”

 “As usual, there was nothing amiss, quite good actually. Just, your spelling was horrible, Y/N.”

 “I know I’m rubbish at spelling.” You mutter underneath your breath, preoccupied with scribbling something down. After a moment, you sheepishly smile at him. “But that’s why I’m paying you to be my editor. If I were good at it, I wouldn’t need you.”

 “Oh, don't be ridiculous.” He jests in a playful tone, “you will always need me. What would you do if I was not around to remind you to eat once in a while and bathe? You'd be sitting in your own filth and rotting away in this home.”

 The two of you laugh together, admitting that he is not at all false.

 You were withdrawn, living on the secluded outskirts of the town. Not many folks desired to be acquainted with you since men frequently belittled your skills and women would rather discuss child rearing and gossip about the marriages taking place. You preferred to write and most considered that a bore and not an occupation at all. You like to beg to differ but that didn't mean you were free from loneliness.

 It was Hoseok that provided companionship, filling in the positions of what friends would. With his presence by your side, you no longer cared about the rude folks who would mutter behind your back. He is the reason you keep striving forward.

 “Speaking of which, I haven't seen you in a week’s time. What have you been working on as of late?”

 “It's a new story and a strange one but I cannot find it in me to shake it off.” Your eyes are blazing like sunlight. He considers the passion ignited within you is a very peculiar yet attractive trait of yours. “It's something I call ‘soulmates’.”

 His brows furrow. “What is that?”

 “It’s a kindred spirit in which upon meeting, there is a spark of..uh...lighting.” Your hands whip in grand gestures and you pace around the room in equal strides. “The primary character just knows that they will end up with that person and together, they will lead their lives until the next and next one. A person can have one soulmate or several, each a part of themselves that makes them whole. It is a kind of true love, an authentic companionship, a mate that matches your soul if you will.”

 “Perhaps I shall call the story ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’.” You whirl back around to face your editor. “What do you think?”

 The man hums. “I think you don’t have enough sleep and your head is up in the clouds again.”

 You sigh, stomping your foot once. “Must you kid around? I am sincerely ecstatic about the idea.”

 “I am only teasing you.” He smiles in a soft manner. “I think the idea is brilliant. If it is you who comes up with it, it always is.”

 “I know.” Your cheeks heat from his compliments and you inhale a lungful. “It’s a shame that not many people will hear about it. What did they say at the printing press?”

 Hoseok grimaces, hesitating on the subject and hoping that you wouldn’t have asked. But you urge him to go on and tell him that your feelings will be spared.

 “Seokjin won’t allow you. He doesn’t believe a woman has anything worthy to say.”

 “Of course. It’s always the same issue.” You’re defeated and at a loss of what to utter. “I know my writing isn’t horrible, especially with your help, dare I say it’s quite good. But in the world we live in, no one wants to hear what a woman would say, much less what a woman would write.”

 Hoseok gazes upon the profile of your visage. The efforts of your labour are evident in the way darkened circles mark the underside of your eye, the natural flush that kisses upon your nose. You are tired and it hurts him to see you this way. “Do you want people to read your work?”

 “Yes, more than anything.” You look outside the window, lost in a trance of a land that would offer a lady like you more opportunities. It’s a silly thought but a prevalent one. “I never cared for recognition or fame. I just want my work to be out there in the world.”

 There is a silence that hangs heavily in the air.

 “Y/N.”

 “Don’t feel the need to comfort me. I am aware that there is no use in contemplating such ridiculousness. My time is better spent putting my active imagination to better use.” You meekly smile, grabbing a new sheet of parchment. A thought brushes across your mind that perhaps if you wedded to someone of importance, your tales can be spread into different civilizations.

 But you have no interest in letting someone take your hand in marriage. Most men would rather you bear children for them than write all day in a room. You’d be better off remaining on your lonesome. But perhaps Hoseok would want to...no...such a foolish thought.

 You have an inkling that you will remain unmarried for the rest of your days.

 The end of your quill is dipped in black ink, preparing to begin another story and you scowl at Hoseok who remains impassive, staring at you at such an intense fixation. “Get back to work before I shake my spear through you!”

 He jumps like his trousers are on fire. “Yes, madam.”

 And the man laughs at your glare.

 //

 A few weeks have passed since Hoseok has bid you farewell, being excused from his duties to travel to his ill mother in another village. You were awaiting for his return but you’re finally drawn out of your home by the excessive noise at the town square.

 “What is going on?”

 A chubby lady with a rounded womb, ready to burst with a new child, chuckles happily and takes your hand. “Your editor, Y/N. Who knew he would be such a literary scholar?”

 “P-pardon me?”

 A new declaration is posted on the wooden board and everyone swarms, despite most being illiterate. The lady who caught wind of news repeats it to you. “Jung Hoseok has been commissioned by the state as the official writer. His play titled as ‘A Midsummer Night's’ Dream caught the eye of the Minister and now he’s published his work under the name of Shakespeare.”

 “E-....excuse me?!”

 You feel faint.

 “Oh, it’s so wonderful, Y/N.” The woman is ignorant to your bubbling wrath. “You should really give his work a try!”

 “That...bastard!” A handful of village folk turn around in shock at your curse and even the lady is taken back, letting go of you and gasping at your barbaric demeanor. But you pay no mind.

 You are too enraged of the lies, the deception, the deceit. Upon racing back home, you discover copies of your work all stolen, ripped away from your hands and name, forged and ransacked.

 And cursing out his name, damning him to the deepest parts of hell, does nothing to sedate the madness of resentments. You will loathe the name of Jung Hoseok until the day you die.

 //

Years later, when Hoseok returns, he receives news from the villagers. Not long after he had left, you suffered under a violent illness and died. He weeps alone as he reads your last written work, ink bled on old pages, a story of enemies and vengeance.

[18th Century]

 The hot sun beams down and sweat slicks down your forehead, coating your skin in a sticky sheen and mixing with the grime on your cheek, the dust clinging to your hair. You are weak from hunger but it’s a familiar feeling that strangely reminds you that you are alive.

 After working since dawn, you take a moment’s rest, blunt sickle in your hand, eyes bleary from the continuous labour. But what catches your sight is the lady of the house walking on the stone path, viewing all the workers and peasants wading through the endless fields.

 “She’s so beautiful.” You sigh in a dreamy manner, following her graceful figure glide by, her cream coloured silk hat matching with the gorgeous gown. Lady Jungha has always been a beauty since birth, powdered skin and rosy cheeks. She is an exquisite phantom, a fictitious being that’s pulled out straight from books. “If only I could look like her.”

 “Why are you so concerned with nonsense beauty?” Your friend stands straight, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “Hurry up and focus plowing the wheat fields or else we’ll have nothing to eat!”

 You downcast your head, griping a few words before exhaustion envelops your frame and you keep quiet, concentrating on your duties of a farmer.

 It’s only until the sun is beginning to dip across the horizon that you’re free from the grueling labour. Every part of your body aches as the day before and you only get a single loaf of bread to chew on, cowering beside your friend with a tiny fire that provides warmth inside the brick shack.

 “Y/N, could you fetch a pail of water?” Your friend rinses her face, shuddering from the coldness of the liquid. “We’re all out.”

 “Must it be me?” You sit up from your straw mat, peeking out the window and watching how the sun has fully disappeared. There is no doubt that in ten minutes time, the sky will be black and the moon will rise.

 “I beg of you.” She falls to the ground, suffering from a fever that’s been persisting for the past days. When you pleaded to the lord of the house to let her rest, he didn’t allow such a thing. Your heart only cries when you watch her in this much agony. “I’m not feeling well.”

 “If you must.” You nod, tucking a tattered blanket over her body. “I’ll be back soon.”

 The metal pail clanks as you rush down the dirt path to the well. You try to make it as fast as you can before it becomes completely dark and the nipping chills might lead you to sickness as well.

 But on your way there, with your head facing the dirt, on pure coincidence and on accident, you bump into the body of another person. “I’m so sorry-”

 “Um, pardon me.” He speaks in a sweet voice and you’re drawn upwards, looking the man in his eyes. His natural dark hair is parted to the side with a dab of hair wax, wearing a moss coloured suit; a silk cravat, coat and waistcoat to match. His breech, stockings and shoes are dignified, crisp clothes that show his wealth. “I apologize to interrupt you on your way but may I ask what household is this?”

 You glance over to the grand home towering high in the sky. “Why, this is the Jeon Household. Jeon Jungkook is the lord of the manor and of the land. Who may you be?”

 The man grins. “My name is Jung Hoseok, a traveller scholar.”

 “A scholar?” You smile, easing into the discourse. “That is rather impressive.”

 “Yes, well, I’ve retired to become a tutor and I’ve just arrived in this part of the country yesterday.” Hoseok takes a moment to admire the endless fields of the countryside and the peacefulness that lasts for acres upon acres. “I am afraid I lost my way.”

 You lift one hand to gesture to the path. “The road to the small village is this way and when you arrive at the riverside, leave to the right. There should be an inn there where you can stay at.”

 “Thank you.” He dips his head and before you can bid farewell, he steps forward. “Would it be unmannerly for me to ask you of your name?”

 There’s a second of hesitation, one where you lower yourself, facing the ground. It is shameful for someone like you to be speaking to someone like him, dashing looks and of higher status. You wish it were different but by your battered attire, you cannot lie. “I am L/N Y/N, a lowly servant and farmer to the Jeon Household.”

 However, the man is undeterred by your status and your soft whispers.

 “You are quite the beauty, Lady Y/N, if you do allow me to say. And...a bit familiar.” He gazes at you with a slight frown and finally rips away his eyes once you’ve blushed. Hoseok clears his throat in several harsh coughs. “Thank you for helping me this fine evening.”

 That night, you are unable to catch a single wink of sleep. Your mind is consumed by one single man.

 //

 The sun is falling once more. The wheat fields are tangling with each other, dancing to the warm breeze of the evening, birds chirping their songs before sundown. The fresh scent of the ground follows with the dirtied clothing on your body and you tear off your apron, neckerchief and white linen cap.

 “Where are you going?” Your friend watches you, chewing on her stale bread and bemused by your franticness. “Are you not going to eat?”

 “I will be back soon enough.” You re-lace your stays to hug your frame tighter, dusting off the deep emerald fabric of your petticoat. It’s a shame that you cannot afford a powdered wig or powder for your skin but you make do with what you have, pinching your cheeks for a rosy complexion, brushing your hair to the back of your head and decorating it with a few flowers you had pulled from the side of the path.

 “Why are you trying so hard to look beautiful? You are aware that no one pays no mind, especially to us peasants? They’re all too concerned about themselves to look at us.”

 You know that your friend does not lie.

 No matter what you do, the reflection in the mirror mocks your efforts. Your skin is itchy and of a sickly colour, burnt from being in the sun, the foul stench of labouring in the fields all day follows even after bathing, fingernails blackened from the dirt, the lack of food make your cheeks hollow and bones frail. A pitying gaze from your friend causes you to look away.

 There’s nothing you can do, no amount of colour, pinching or flowers could make you look anything more than ugly. You can either look like the peasant girl that you were born to be or a pathetic court jester - you’re not sure which is worse.

 Yet, you hold your head up high.

 “You don’t understand. I-I’ve met someone.”

 Your friend lowers her bread and stares. “You met someone?”

 “Last night and I can’t help but feel like,” a hopeless sigh spills from your lips, “like he may be my soulmate.”

 Such a concept as soulmates is something that came from a famous book that you heard about once. The writer was a marvelous one, plays and street performances coming from the story and even to this day, countless philosophers are debating the idea that each person may belong to another or select few, created by the so-called ‘fate’.

 “Oh, Y/N. You are too naive.”

 You smile at her. “Believe in what I say, I have a good feeling about this man.”

 Before she is able to ask more questions, you have already left. As fortune may have it, tracing the steps of yesterday, a familiar man stands near the path, admiring the beauty of the endless fields. He turns around at the sound of your huffs and smiles.

 “Is this a coincidence or done on purpose?” He waits patiently for an answer and recognizing how you are flustered by the question, he grins. “I do hope it is the latter for I was also hoping to see you again.”

 Your cheeks flush and a smile holds itself on your face. “Your desire is mutual.”

 The dusk light fills the sky and you pace alongside him, strolling together aimlessly without a place in mind. Simply, you are enjoying his company. “Have you always worked here?”

 “Yes, my parents were also servants for the Jeon Household. It was in my place to continue their duties.” You study the side of his face, chiseled jaw, sharp nose and all, before realizing the rudeness of your actions. “And you? Were you always a traveling scholar?”

 “Ah no, well, I am a tutor now.” He chooses each word carefully and his utterance of the words are gentle. “I am in search of a suitable job. Do you know if there is anyone in the Jeon Household in need of a tutor?”

 “Well, the lord of the house is very educated already.” You’ve always known that lord Jeon has been kind to you and your parents. There were many stories that surrounded him. “He is old and unfortunately a widow. He does have one daughter, however. The lady of the household, Jungah. She’s only nineteen years of age and very beautiful.”

 “Oh.” Hoseok stops to feel the breeze kiss upon his cheeks. It cards through his locks and you watch while in an enamoured state. “Is the lady of the household betrothed?”

 “Not that I know of. Perhaps the lady will need a tutor. I-...” You lower your head, trying to remember your place in the world as a lowly servant. “I could arrange a meeting for you if you wish.”

 “That would be splendid, Y/N. Thank you.” He beams like the sunshine itself and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. But upon realizing that it reveals more of your imperfect complexion, you downcast your head. Hoseok’s gaze was becoming too intense as well. He muses, “You really would be more suited to a bustling town.”

 “A town?”

 “The world has changed, Y/N!” He throws open his arms as if he welcomes the entire universe inside of them. “It’s developed. Such things as working for a lord of the land and barely having enough to eat, people are no longer living in such ways. More and more are leaving the countryside to work at these factories. You can buy food, a warm house, anything you want.”

 He faces you. “It’s wonderful, really. You wouldn’t believe it. You have to see it with your own eyes, Y/N.”

 You smile at his riveting energy but your expression turns to sorrow. “I can’t just leave. They own me here.”

 “I can help you.” Hoseok declares to the rising moon. “I can help you get away from this farm.”

 You gasp, stepping forward. “R-really?”

 “Yes, I have a friend who sells cattle. All you must do is lay on the barrow and let yourself be taken to the border. It’s never been more possible.” His eyes twinkle, brighter than the stars setting above your heads. “All my friend needs in order to agree is ten golden coins.”

 “T-ten?” You reach for your pocket that is weightless. They don’t give you earnings for your work - the food is already the pay. “All I have is four.”

 The man hums in contemplation. “Well, you can give me the four now and when you come up with the other six, I’ll let him know.” You scour your dress to reach inside the pocket, collecting your entire wealth into your hands. “It’s for a better life, Y/N. I want you to be happy.”

 “Thank you.” Your fingers brush against the skin of his palm, letting the golden coins drop into his hand and a strange emotion tugs inside your chest.

 After bidding farewell with the tutor, you watch his backside disappear slowly, counting each step the man takes that increases the distance and leaves him farther away from you.

 //

 Eventually, in three days time, you catch the gracious lady on her morning walk, and she finds interest in the man you describe. Hoseok expresses his gratitude as another meeting is arranged for him to address the lord of the house and it doesn't take long for him to be hired as the official tutor for Lady Jungha.

 You find that the pair of them, Hoseok and Lady Jungha, have taken a liking to each other, often smiling and glancing while strolling at dawn. But your friend insists that your mind is merely running wild again and such a relationship would be scandalous to the Jeon name. For reasons you are too shy to admit, you hope it is true.

 Each evening, you stroll together with Hoseok, mindlessly speaking and letting time trickle away without a notice. You see him frequently, especially since he now lives on the land as well. And the feelings within your being are only festering day by day.

 Except, one night, you cannot sleep well.

 “Where are you going?”

 Your friend lifts her head as you shuffle on outwear, brushing back your hair and leaving it unkempt. “I’ll be back soon. I need to make sure of something.”

 Today, as you waited on the same path, Hoseok never showed up.

 As improper and rude as it may be, you sneak into the manor like a shadow, slipping through the familiar corridors and hallways, past empty rooms and studies. Surely, if you were to be caught, you would be punished; perhaps days of food taken away from you or you would be forced to work the entire field during the night. But you cannot shake off the worry that plagues your mind.

 It’s not like Jung Hoseok breaks his word. He is a man of dignity and respect-

 “Hhmpph...mmp-h…” A muffled whine causes you to halt and you turn to the lady’s room, the door slightly parted and enough for you to peek inside. “Wait...w-wait.”

 There are two shadows on the bed and you narrow your eyes, barely able to see with the moonlight coming through the glass windows. But you recognize the voice immediately. “What’s the matter?”

 “M-my father,” Lady Jungha pants a breath, laid down beneath the man, “if he finds out about us, I’m scared of what he would do to you.”

 “My lady, are you not aware I would readily endanger my own well-being for you?” He places a kiss on her lips, the sound of smacking skin echoing in the quiet room. Your heart drops. “Your beauty is unadulterated, the most magnificent in the land. You are but a fragile flower and your mind of absolute brilliance. Never have I had such a student. No one compares to you.”

 He strips of his shirt, allowing the fabric to flutter to the ground. His large, coarse hands slink up the lady’s legs, pushing up her silk nightgown until it pools high above her chest. He removes her undergarments and you spin around, back hitting against the wall, teeth sinking into your bottom lip and breaking the skin.

 “Let me reward you. Let me take care of you.” His voice is soft and sweet, dripping of luscious honey and you fear that you will spew the little contents in your stomach out. “You don’t need to be afraid.”

 There are more groans and whines, kisses pressed and skin slapping on skin. The vulgarities and lewd sounds sends a warm wash over your body and you swallow hard, finding it difficult to walk away. “Okay, take me, Hoseok.” The young lady giggles quietly. “I allow you to defile my innocence.”

 Your hand covers your mouth to hide the breaking sob and you run as saltwater clouds the surroundings.

 “Is there something the matter?” Your friend shifts over the straw mat, shaken from her slumber and your sudden appearance.

 “I’m well. Thank you.” You face the dirtied wall, holding your palm to your lips, weeping into your hands until the exhaustion of your labour from the day has taken hold of your mind.

 //

 The sunlight does not seem bright anymore.

 The hard work and plowing of the fields offers a sense of odd fulfillment. The repetitive motions and slick sweat sticking to your face brings you down from the clouds to the ground. You remember who you are: a lowly servant who will never be anything more.

 “I believe I will take the hand of Lady Jungha in the days to come.” Hoseok tells you one evening as you both have stopped to stare out at the endless countryside. You’ve learnt to find sorrow within these walks now.

 “Is that so?” You offer a kind smile, sincerely ecstatic for the man. Despite his mere status, he is a good match for the lady of the house. They are both of beauty and dashing looks.

 “If it were not for you and your efforts, I would not be standing here today.” Hoseok grins, hands behind his back and spine tall. “One day, when I become the lord of the land, I will set you free.”

 You bow your head. “Then it would be my absolute honour, Lord Hoseok.”

 The man grins at the new title and your heart aches as you watch him stride away, increasing the distance and disappearing away from you.

 True to his word, in a month, he has taken Lady Jungha’s hand. It happens too quickly for you to fully understand, the wedding coming and going within a blink, and you simply focus on working the fields, having enough to eat after each day, working hard to obtain six more coins.

 In due time, the strolls with the man diminish until there is nothing left. Yet, what surprises you is the sudden illness of Lord Jungkook and his succumb to the mysterious disease. It is overnight that Jung Hoseok becomes the main land owner and master of the household.

 “Wake up! Wake up, peasants!” Horrific metal is rattled on metal, shocking you out of slumber and you awake, rubbing at bleary eyes. Your friend is in a similar state of confusion, exchanging a glance at you before she gets up, grabbing a cloak to cover her nightgown.

 “How dare you intrude into a lady’s quarters?” You gasp at the men who barge and kick down all the doors of the little huts. The stranger simply laughs at your scoldings and roughly grabs your arm, hauling you outside against your will and throwing you to the dirt. You yelp and your friend comes rushing to your aid, covering you with your own cloak.

 “Take all their belongings!” The men shout and the other servants are torn away from each other, children, women and men alike. “Rip down everything!”

You watch as they scour your tiny room for the little things that you have, a pot of water and straw mat, perhaps a stack of wheat in the corner. You stagger to your feet and a familiar figure stands by the side of the road, gazing out at the wide countryside.

 “Lord Hoseok, I plead with you to tell me what is happening.” Behind him, your friends and their families are screaming, homes torn apart and fires flickering your shadows on the ground. “Why are you treating these poor servants this way?”

 “Oh, Y/N.” There is something strange about the man. His kindness and benevolence has long left his soul and his smile frightens you. “I am selling the land.”

 “Selling the land?! What-?” You are befuddled and baffled. “Does Lady Jungha know about this?!”

 The corner of his mouth lifts, and he locks his eyes with yours. “The lady is bedridden in grief from her father’s death. She cannot sleep or eat and is no longer a wife to me. I have plans to send her to an asylum to get better.”

 “P-pardon me? T-that cannot be true!” You shake your head until it rattles and you can’t see straight. “That must be false! I have to see her for myself-”

 Hoseok clutches your wrist in his hand. “You will do no such thing.”

 A sick, twisted part of him was once curious to see how foolish and easily persuaded you are. He isn’t disappointed. You believe him so easily that he does not need to put forth effort. It nearly spoils the fun and amusement for him to trick you. You almost awaken a sense of guilt within him. Almost.

 It strikes you like a slap and your eyes widen. “You are not a scholar nor a tutor are you?”

 “And you realize so too late.” He lets go, applauding for the little wit you have left. “I lied.”

 Your stomach churns. You feel sick. “Who are you?”

 “A swindler who was once a peasant like you.” His gaze softens a mere tad. “I never once harboured feelings for the lady of the house, I was only trying to gain wealth. You can hate me if you want to, that does not matter.”

 “You are the truest demon that I have met,” you spit out in rage, “and hell has opened its doors for you.”

 He leans his head to one side, chuckling and laughing at the sudden insults. “Are you really so naive, Y/N? Are you not tired of licking the shoes of people who are of higher status? But I must say, if it were not for you, my scheme would have never succeeded. And for that, I thank you.”

 Hoseok reaches into his pocket, taking a single coin, one that you had given him, and he slaps it back into your hands, closing your palm so you can keep it safe.

 You shake with wrath, your entire frame rattling and knees threatening to buckle to the dirt. With the little strength you have left, you throw the coin as far as you can into the fields. Hoseok chuckles again and you prepare to launch over, maul his face with your dirtied fingernails. But his men grab your arms too soon, restraining your limbs and forcing you to kneel.

 “I-I hate you! I spite you! Damn you, Jung Hoseok! Damn you!”

 “What do you want me to do with this girl?”

 “Take her and sell her for the best price.” Hoseok waves his hand, dismissing his men and bidding you a final farewell. “She is rather valuable.”

 You’re thrown into a wooden cage, trapped and hanging onto the bars as the horse drags you elsewhere. You scream and shout but the man does not spare a single glance. You watch his backside disappear slowly, cursing each stride he takes that increases the distance and leaves you farther away from him.

[19th Century]

 “Are you looking for something?” A rounded woman emerges from the back of her market stand, sweeping your frame up and down to guess the wealth you have.

 You’re in a fitted linen shirt and dark green woolen skirt, belt wrapped around the natural waist of the simple ensemble and bonnet decorating your pinned up chignon hair. You look like a well-off peasant, not a customer who could pay for much, but it is a fairly good front since you’re actually penniless.

 “No, I’m just looking for now.” You smile softly and the woman huffs out in annoyance, spinning around to address some other folks who have gathered on the other side. As her back is turned, your fingertips run against the selection of green flower brooches, the gems sparkling in the sunlight.

 You slip one into your sleeve and walk away.

 The women wandering about the market are adorning full, bell-shaped skirt dresses, petticoats with frilled hems, hair in tight curls framing their face and maybe a long time ago, you would be envious of such beautiful clothing but it does not concern you anymore. There’s much more important business to attend to.

 The bustle of the crowded streets and children running at your feet is suffocating and you make a left at the alleyway, sliding the brooch from out your pocket and attaching it on the woolen shawl draped on your shoulders. It looks much better this way. You’re ready.

 Another left, another right, going deeper and deeper into the dirty alleyways that run with rats and of the poor pleading for money - eventually, you make it to the pine painted door, a dingy and discreet place in the corner that already smells of tobacco from the outside.

 You kick down the door. The chaos inside stops.

 “Men!” You smirk at their confused expressions. “Your real competition is here.”

 As a woman, it may be ungenteel to hike up your dress, put your boot on the table and shoot dice while hollering and screaming with the opposite sex but why should you feel ashamed when you are dominating and winning all bets?

 “I’ll bet one more time.” Your opponent, Min Yoongi, slaps down a hefty sack of golden coins. The others cheer, the entire room having all gathered around your table and watching the dark horse snaring victory after victory. “If the dice makes it even, I get my earnings back but if it makes it odd, I will give you the rest of this.”

 You contemplate the choice, weighing the reward and consequences. It sounds appealing, especially when everyone is howling for you to take the deal. In the end, you smirk at the newfound confidence. “You’re on.”

 The dice is thrown. Each person holds their breath.

 In the next twelve minutes, you’ve completely ransacked the place dry of their money. And you laugh your head off, clutching onto your stomach and cackling while the others can only sigh at their humiliating, multiple defeats.

 “Where did a woman like you learn how to gamble?” Yoongi sips from his glass of rum, eyes studying you carefully.

 “Ah.” You smile at him. “But there is your mistake. Woman or man, ‘tis true they are different but not so much. You would be a fool not to look at me as your equal opponent.”

 You’ve seen things that others would faint at; held a gun within your hands, fired shots into the sky, sailed seas with pirates until you found a home here. Yoongi grins. “A fool I am indeed.”

 “Hey!” A piercing interruption at the back causes all heads to turn. The bulky man watching from earlier is holding the dice within his hands, frown decorating his ugly face and rotting teeth. “This dice is fake! It’s not ours!”

 At once, all necks crane towards you.

 They stare. The large men, brawny arms and thighs, bruises lining their skin, red fists and faces becoming scarlet begin to take slow steps forward. Yoongi has his eyes widened, mouth drawing open. You sheepishly smile. And…

 You make a run for it.

 “Get back here!” They dive over wooden tables and stools, tripping and falling, glasses of rum and cigars abandoned, thrown onto the ground. By then, you’ve already yanked open the door, being chased down the alleyway. “She’s a swindler!”

 “A cheat!”

 The horde of men races after you but are no match for your agile legs and speed. You even laugh to further mock them, dashing through the dark alleyways, past the poor and rats, clutters of rubbish and dirtied children. It’s like a peasant parade, a grand crowd following after in shouts and screams and you are their gracious leader.

 “I prefer con artist!”

 You make it to the main street again, knocking over stands and throwing over tables to slow down the angry men. Women scream, men exhale in surprise, children darting away from your form. They trip and stumble, pushing their way through the mass of people. “Give back our money!”

 “Sorry but no thanks!” You hold up a heavy sack of coins above your head with a tinkling laugh, shaking the coins inside to further taunt them. “I need this more than you!”

 The police squadron has noticed the ruckus in the area and has begun running after the ruffians, blowing their whistles and commanding them to stop. You hope they catch the criminals so that you may be spared but if they’re caught, you would be too. People like you are never caught.

 The whistles are blown. “In the name of the royal family, halt immediately criminals!”

 The men continue to run after you. “Kill her!”

 “That’s a bit severe, is it not?!” You’re out of breath, painting and heaving for air.

 You know you won’t last long now. Hence, there’s no other choice but to turn the corner into another street and immediately, in the empty area, you place yourself into another narrow alleyway. “Where did that whore go?!”

 You gasp in offense, muttering quietly, “I am not a whore.”

 The incoherent grumblings quickly turns into a scream when someone suddenly seizes you, their hand yanking your arm but the sound is muffled as a palm is clasped over your mouth and you’re pressed against someone’s firm chest. You pull away from the stranger.

 He smirks. “Caught you.”

 You shove his fingers off of your body, snatching the collar of his fine coat and hauling the man deeper into the shadowed depths of the alleyway. “Jung Hoseok-” You push him to the wall. “-What are you doing here?! How?!”

 The man looks off to the other end that is lit by the sunlight, the unsuspecting thugs rushing past and officers following their tails. “I see you haven’t shaken off your gambling habits.” The son of the loan shark corners you with his larger body. “You still owe my family many loans.”

 “Damn you.” Your teeth grit. “Fine, be as it may, take me to your debtors’ prison.”

 “Good. It would be best if you follow me-”

 In an instant, your shoes have twisted upon the gravel and your heel meets the dirt as you lob your body to the left, ready to take down the alley for yet another chase. But you fail to consider Jung Hoseok’s own agile skills, and he grabs your waist before you’re able to dash.

 “Must you always run?”

 The hot breath tickles against the shell of your ear and you scowl, curses to be spewed on your tongue, but he spins you around and throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

 You scream. “Put me down, bastard! I am a lady!”

 “You aren’t.” He rudely smacks your ass, sending a jolt up your spine and you’re silenced in bafflement. The man makes his way on the opposite road of the chaos, into a quieter place with fewer folks wandering about. “And if you do not follow me, I will throw you to those rancid men. Would you like that better?”

 “I despise you.”

 Hoseok smiles, satisfied to see your more compliant behaviour. You decide that you’ll allow him to continue carrying you this way. You’re tired anyhow, legs sore from the race and at the end of the day, he is wasting away his own energy by hauling you there.

 “You shouldn’t keep making bets with people if you choose to con them. One day, you’ll be beaten to death.”

 You scoff loudly. “I am going to win in order to pay all my debts back, foolish man.”

 “Gambling never works, haven’t you learnt? You’d end up wasting your entire life savings away and living by the city’s sewers.”

 “Isn’t that where we’re all heading anyway?” You rest your hand on your cheek, propping your elbow on his broad backside. There are people staring at you, couples cowering away in disdain. You wonder if they’re soulmates.

 Soulmates - the idea that a kindred soul has been fixed for each individual are not only in stories anymore but in real lives. Folks have supposedly begin recognizing an odd burst when they meet their other half. It’s a ridiculous phenomenon. You couldn’t care less about soulmates. What matters is wealth.

 Wealth would help you, free you, give you a better tomorrow. You’ve lived this entire life alone and it is no doubt that for the rest of it, you will continue to be by yourself. There is no one trustworthy - it took you too long of a time to learn that.

 “I’m not naive anymore.”

 “Good.” He laughs, finally setting you down on the property, swinging his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close as he guides you inside the building, down the familiar halls. You shove his limb off with an ugly scowl, and he smiles. You accompany each other in synchronized steps, the surroundings too familiar for your liking.

 Jung Hoseok is a man with short, black, tousled hair. He wears a double-breasted frock coat and long trousers, a luxurious attire considering the family he comes from. You hate it even more that he is a rather dapper young fellow.

 “This is for your own benefit, Y/N. You don’t even have any money for food. At least if you stay at this place, I can bring you some bread to eat and you have warm shelter.”

 You step inside the cell, and he locks the door with a brass key.

 “This place is cold and horrid,” you cry out. “There are rats and fleas everywhere! You think I could stay here?! You’d be leaving me to die!”

 He smiles at you through the gaps of the metal bars. The stone floorings and walls barricade you in. “I will bring you a blanket and you can make do.”

 You spit with all the fury and rage festered in your soul, “Do not act like you care for me!”

 “Don’t mistake my pity for generosity then.”

 “Damn you, Jung Hoseok.” You grip the cold bars that trap you, screaming after his retreating form. “I loathe you with every last breath in my body!”

 He turns from a little way, figure engulfed in the darkness of the hall. “If it helps, I share my own hatred for you. You make my job a lot harder than need be.” A small smile holds on his face and you see it all too well. “Just sit down and begin separating the strands of rope in the basket. Enough of it and in a few years, you might be released.”

 You curse him to hell and back.

 //

 The sunlight coming from the barred window is always hot in the hour of twelve. You’ve noticed this before a ways back but thought nothing much of it. Today, it makes all the difference.

 You’ve collected the leaves and grass from the corners of the cell, cringing and sobbing out when you accidentally brushed your hand in rat feces, a dead rat and maggots eating at the decaying flesh. But alas, after wiping your fingers on your tattered clothing, you continued on your quest.

 It took a while to break the wooden basket and carve out something decent but you managed with the little fork Hoseok gave you to eat. It’s all thanks to him that you can do this.

 “Come on now.” You murmur, rubbing the two wooden sticks against each other on top of the pile of grass, leaves and rope. There’s a puff of smoke and sweat builds at your forehead as you work your arms back and forth. “I beg of you…”

 The sunlight helps to ignite the tiny flame and a smirk spreads into your cheeks.

 You nurse the fire as quietly and quickly as you can, throwing the bundles and bundles of rope that was prepared for you to separate into the light. As the fire crackles, meeting the height of your waist, you take the stool, standing on top of it and you throw yourself over the tiny ledge.

 Using the motion, you kick the bars of the window loose and you throw your legs out. The height of the drop is survivable. But before you can make your escape, pattering footsteps echo through the hall. “Y/N?!”

 Hoseok stands back from your cell in dreaded horror. “Bloody hell, you started a fire?!”

 “A good distraction, eh?” You smirk at his glare. It was always within the con rule book to create distractions and delay the enemy. “I suppose this would be a good time to bid you adieu.”

 He calls your name over and over again, gripping the iron bars that separate the two of you.

 “You know no matter where you go, I will find you?!”

 “Aww, if you were not an enemy, that would almost sound romantic.” You give him a flying kiss, lips smacking against your palm and gestured out to him. He frowns and you give a wink, a cheerful giggle as well. “Goodbye, Jung Hoseok.”

 “Y/N!”

 And you slip out the window, right out of his grasps, running as fast as you can.

[20th Century]

 Even as the threat of war breathes down your neck, threatening to grab hold of your lungs and smother you in all its horror, soulmates still run rampant through the streets, slaughtering each sliver of hope you have left, strangling the happy life that you want so desperately.

 “You haven't found…” Your friend leans close as if sharing a secret. “...‘the one’?”

 The world revolved around the idea of soulmates. It hit civilization like a ship’s cannon, sudden and full of impact. Now, it was all girls could giggle about and boys could fantasize. Folks would be absolutely consumed with it, parents pairing their children and friends’ together and hoping for that burst of electricity that could only be shared between kindred souls.

 One of the questions you were asked insistently was: ‘have you found the one yet?’. Your answer didn’t matter as much as the pitying expressions, the words of consolation of ‘you’ll find one soon’ and how people told you their own story. They always said that no matter where you went, where you’d go off to, your soulmate would end up finding you. That’s how the scientists and teachers, old philosophers and stories, the newspapers said it.

 That’s how fate is.

 “What if I just don’t have a soulmate?”

 You exhale a breath towards the sky and your friend looks at you in astonishment. “Who told you that? Plus, no scientist has said such thing yet. Everyone has a soulmate! Some people just take a bit of time, Y/N. You’ll find someone soon, I just know it.”

 She says it with such certainty, as if declaring the sun will rise again. “And when you do, you’ll know instantly.”

 You’ve heard it a million times before, the way your friends have described it, you’ve seen it with your own eyes. Yet, your own faith and hope are dwindled.

 “Isn’t there more to life than finding your soulmate, getting married and having children?”

 You’re not sure where this is all coming from but perhaps it is the resentments of your universe, how your parents have constantly shoved the ideas of romance and matrimony down your throat since you were a child. When you look around, women are glowing from pregnancies or branded with a ring on their finger.

 “What if I want to go to university instead?”

 “Are you ill?” She nibbles on her bread. “Why are you speaking such nonsense? Y/N, this is the Great Depression and I know your own family is well off but people don’t even have enough to eat.” Your friend shakes her head, scoffing at the ridiculousness of your words. “School...and for women? What kind of place would ever accept that?”

 You don’t respond. She sighs.

 “Y/N, don’t you want happiness and to feel loved? We don’t have many choices other than those things. So, keep your chin up and don’t give up on the idea of soulmates just yet.”

 It’s a rose-coloured world. Everyone sees the universe in blazing shades, laughing and grinning even at such a poor time. They see the glass as half-full, each failure an opportunity to learn, pouring of optimism. They beam with love and happiness, holding hands and sharing kisses.

 Yet, you don’t feel like you are flushing with rose. You are green. A monster of envy.

 //

 The heavy rain beats down on top of your head, rattling the inside of your skull. The surroundings have turned into a shade of grey, vision clouded with water droplets clinging onto your lashes. Each step you take splatters puddles onto your house dress, a kelly-coloured, floral, cotton hand-me-down from your mother.

 You’re drenched from head to toe, squealing before taking shelter under a closed flower shop.

 You don’t notice the person who you’re caught in the rain with, the individual that was already there and lifting their hand out to catch the droplets, staring up at the clouds and considering how much longer the storm will take. “Looks like it won’t stop anytime soon, eh?”

 Your body jumps in shock but soon eases from the warm and familiar presence beside you.

 “Jung H-Hoseok.” You blink at him, managing a slight smile out of politeness. “What a surprise.”

 The man is a notorious playboy, someone you’ve seen sucking face in alleyways with other girls, feeling them up right in public, especially Yoonji from three houses down your parents’. Your own mother has told you to stay away from men like him. They’re nothing but trouble.

 “Are you alright?” He gives a sly grin, taking a step closer to you and his body radiates the heat your own skin craves. If someone were to see now, they’d immediately become suspicious and in this small town with gossip being the main activity, your mother would know about it instantly.

 Luckily, no one’s around and the streets are empty.

 “I’m perfectly fine, just soaked from the rain.”

 Hoseok smirks. He’s a cunning fellow, a known looker too. His white shirt is rolled to his sleeves, veins popping from his forearm and you know that any lady in this town would be swooning to be in this position but you don’t dare look at him. You focus on the street.

 “It’s been awhile since we chatted, Y/N.”

 “Well, I’d rather not.”

 “Why?” He tips his head to the side, staring at you with the utmost concentration that you nearly begin to break a sweat.

 You finally look at him, twisting on your ankle to frown. “Would Min Yoonji like it if she knew you were trying to flirt with me right now?”

 “Darling, no one ever said anything about flirting.” He’s amused and that makes you angrier. “But if you want me to, then I can.”

 “You. Are. Ridiculous.”

 “And you are beautiful.”

 “You!” Your mouth has filled with cotton, cheeks heating up by the second and it would be an understatement to say that you’re flustered. How is it that he can get under your skin so quickly and break down your barriers; you’ll never know the answer. “Ugh!”

 “Have I stolen those words out of your pretty lips? Or should I kiss ‘em to make sure they’re okay?”

 You scoff, crossing your arms as if it’s for extra protection. “Now I know why my mother told me to stay from the likes of you!”

 “Why?” His grin spreads into his cheeks, and he leans down to meet your eyes. “Because I make you excited, because I’m dangerous, and she’d rather have you settle down with someone plain and boring like that idiot down the street, Taehyung? Kid doesn’t even know what sex is.”

 You narrow your eyes, spitting out the syllables like it’s your only arsenal left against his suave attacks, “because you toy with women’s hearts and throw them after you’re done.”

 “I would never throw you away.” He answers without missing a beat, leaning against the glass window and studying your frame carefully. “I’ve always liked you, you know. You’re different from the rest of ‘em.”

 “H-How so?” Your interest is piqued, and he realizes it, cockily smirking yet again.

 “You’re not a simple one. You’re a challenge and I like that.”

 There’s a familiar feeling about the man and it puts you on edge. Though you must admit, it is exhilarating to be speaking to him and simply considering all the scandalous acts you could do together in secret. “So once I become easy, you’ll be done with me?”

 “Never.” He shakes his head. “You might know me as a heartbreaker but Y/N, sweetheart, I’m a changed man.”

 Your brow lifts. “Oh?”

 Hoseok sighs with exhaustion. “The war is coming. Everyone says it ain’t, but we all know it’s coming. Before I’m drafted to go out to the field and die, I’d like to open my heart once and love someone completely.” He stares at you once more. “And if it’s you, I think I can do it.”

 You’re filled with bafflement again. “I...you…”

 “At least give me a chance, Y/N.” The rain pitter patters against the green awning of the florist’s shop, the scent of the fresh earth fills your senses and you feel overwhelmed with a sense of peace. More so, Hoseok’s pleading twitches your fingers and melts the barrier around your vulnerable heart. “Let me take you out on a date. What do you say?”

 It’s the first thing you think of. You whisper it in a gentle voice.

 “What about your soulmate?”

 “That’s not a problem.” He smiles, looking out at the street that still pours. “Don’t have one, never will. I’m a free soul.”

 “Huh.” You giggle, having never heard such a thing aside from it coming out of your own mouth. “Soulmate-less people do exist after all, don’t they?”

 “They sure do. And once people figure it out, there’s gonna be nothing but pity for folks like me.”

 He can already feel your skin on his, a simple brush of the shoulders but it leaves him aching. Hoseok wonders what those lips taste like, sweet or of crisp citrus, how soft your mouth would feel on his, what it would be like to swallow your pants and make you the happiest woman on this damn forsaken planet.

 “You mean folk like us.” You bring him out from his daydream, and he realizes that it’s better to be in reality since you’re here by his side, in the flesh and beautifully smiling. “I don’t have a soulmate either. I can tell. It’s something in me that says so.”

 “Yeah…” He gazes at you, amazed at how true your words are. He really hasn’t met anyone like you, who knew him better than he did, who felt the things that he did, someone to share sadness with. “I’ve never met anyone where I’ve felt a burst of electricity. For all I know, my world has always been bright colours and all that sort.”

 “Hmm…” You look at him, locking your eyes into his fixed stare. “You know, you feel real familiar, Jung Hoseok. Maybe we’ve met before this life.”

 The man grins. “That’s the kind of line I used to use when I was trying to flirt with somebody.”

 You nudge him, brushing your shoulder against his again. “Maybe I am trying to flirt.”

 “Can I kiss you?”

 “Yes, you may.”

 His lips touch yours until he caresses the back of your neck, holding you close until your chest is pressed against his and his frame shelters you. Candy - he grins when he finally figures out the sweet taste, and he chases the flavour of your velvet lips until a gentle whine leaves your throat.

 Although there is no burst of electricity, your heart doesn’t stop and your breath doesn’t get caught, all you know is that you’re happy. And this is enough for you.

 //

 Falling in love with Hoseok is a complete accident.

 You don’t mean to be head over heels for the man, certainly don’t mean for him to take your heart and kiss you senseless until your limbs feel of butter. When your parents scold your ears off, you resolve to break the relationship but somehow, you run back into his arms like a fool. He takes you and comforts you like a man has never done before. You don’t mean to smile so brightly when he calls you beautiful. You don’t mean to be so weak that you feel marrying him wouldn’t be so bad. You don’t mean any of these things but Hoseok was always a cunning one.

 Maybe it is a mistake but the best one you’ve ever made.

“This is my old babe.” Hoseok slaps her trunk lightly. “Someone threw ‘er away and I told my pop I’d fix her up and I did it. I gotta admit, I love her to death.”

 “More than me?’

 “Maybe.” He teases and chuckles when you roll your eyes. There’s nothing special, at least not in your eyes, but when you lay a finger, your boyfriend inhales sharply. “Careful now. This is a Cadillac Sixty Special.”

 You give him an unimpressed expression, hands on your hips and head quirked to one side. “I’m starting to really believe you love a car more than me.”

 “I’m just joking, babe.” Hoseok leans over and plants a soft kiss on your mouth. Before you can pout, he opens the backseat door and ushers you inside. “For m’lady.”

 You get in, and he follows soon after, shutting it and the pair of you stare out the empty road.

 There’s a long pause. “This it?”

 “What do you mean?” He gasps. “This is the best view you could get! This car’s the best!”

 You sigh again and Hoseok laughs, leaning over and draping his arm over you, pulling you close and you rest your head on his shoulder. “I’m just kidding around. I know a view that’s much better than this.”

 “And what’s that?” To answer your question, his other hand begins to skim on your thigh, fingertips tracing your skin, getting higher and higher and shifting your cotton dress up until your underwear peeks out. You grab his wrist, looking around and whispering in hushes, “What are you thinking?! We’re out in broad daylight in your parent’s driveway!”

 “No one’s around, honey. C’mon…” He noses at your hair and it’s not like you don’t want this. You do very much, perhaps more than him but you’re also afraid of what would happen if Mrs. Kim, the next door neighbor, decides to walk her little puppy and faints when she sees what’s going on.

 Finally, after some contemplation, you grab Hoseok’s face, pressing your mouth against his until he smiles into the kiss. “You better make this worth my while, Jung.”

 His pupils are blown out, lips swollen and ready to devour you in the backseat of his used car. “Oh, I will.”

 At the very least, he cares about you enough to be okay with staining the leather.

 Regardless of what troubles you face - your parents’ disapproval, the looming presence of the war, your own worries and anxieties about the relationship - Jung Hoseok is constantly around the corner. No matter where you go, he’s always able to find you. The man makes your heart sing soothing lullabies and maybe you’ll never have a soulmate but at least you have him.

 “Jung Hoseok here to save the beautiful m’lady.”

 There’s a blazing smile written across his features and you laugh, causing him to melt into a warmer smile. He jogs up to you, draping a coat over your shoulders to defend you against the slight nipping breeze. The pair of you are taking a walk around his neighborhood, an odd pastime but one you insisted on.

 “Are you okay?”

 You secure the warm fabric over your exposed skin, savouring his scent that is lingering on each stitch of the wool fabric. “I’m fine. Why?”

 Hoseok wiggles his brows in a suggestive manner. “Because you were limping the other day.”

 You scoff. “And that was because of who?”

 Your boyfriend giggles sweetly, draping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you close into his chest. You ease from the gesture, the nervousness temporarily rolling off your shoulders. As the both of you pass a minty coloured mailbox, you finally break the silence.

 “Hey, have you been getting your mail lately?”

 “Every Sunday as usual. Why?” He is amused at the strange question, turning to look at you but already having an inkling on what the whole gist is about. “Are you worried about the war?”

 You hide your face, diverting your eyes and your voice is soft, barely on the edge of breaking. “You know they already told Namjoon and Jimin? Those two are leaving next week, packing all their bags, saying goodbye to their loved ones and family members and...and-”

 “Hey. Hey now. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing.” He gently boinks your head with his, smiling and placing a kiss on the crown. “They’re older than I am and my brother hasn’t even been called yet. There’s no way they’ll call me first. Plus if I did go, I’d have Namjoon and Jimin and my brother to look out for me.”

 “But what if-”

 “No what if’s. Don’t wanna hear it.” He sulks with a pout, letting go of you and instead, catching your hand within his. He holds it tight, lacing your fingers together and you smile at him sadly.

 “Are you scared?”

 “Nope.” He punctuates the syllable and shakes his head. “What’s there to be afraid of? I’m not afraid.”

 You squeeze his hand. “It’s okay if you are. I would be.”

 “Why are you suddenly asking me all these questions?” He stops in front of his house, holding you close and staring at your expression. “What’s going on in that little pretty head of yours that has you worrying so much?”

 Hoseok knows you too well at this point. Your cheeks flush and you stare at the ground. “There is something. And, I’m scared of what you’re gonna say when you know.”

 “Scared of what I'm gonna say?” He laughs and kisses your cheek. “Darling, there’s nothing for you to be afraid of. Don’t you know that I’m fearless?”

 You lift your brow in an incredulous manner. “Really?”

 “Except for spiders, I don’t fight things that’s got more than six legs,” he teases and then becomes serious, “but enough of the jokes, what’s wrong?”

 “I...we’re….” You hesitate, stuttering and an absolute mess. Maybe it’s foolish but you trust this man with all your heart and you love him so. Hence, you take a deep breath, bracing yourself before the storm comes. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

 “What.”

 “I’m pregnant?” You nervously laugh, swinging your held hands and staring at your shoes. “I don’t know how long it’s been but I haven’t been feeling well lately and I haven’t had my...cycle in a while. All the signs, I got them.”

 “Oh wow.” He exhales a lungful, looking off into the distance without an expression. Hoseok is in a state of disbelief, unable to wrap his mind around it, and he repeats you a few times, “We’re gonna have a baby. A baby.”

 “Yep…” You study him carefully, having not expected much but the lack of communication was no less than being put on a tightrope, holding your breath and on the brink of anticipation. “What do you think?”

 “That’s….I’m….I’m going to go...for a bit..”

 “What?!” Out of all the possible reactions, this had to hurt the most - there was no reaction. “You’re leaving?!”

 “I just have to.” He begins to back away, getting to his vehicle that’s parked at the side. “I gotta get some air. See you.”

 “Wait!” You run after him, shouting with all your might as he gets into his little precious car. “Jung Hoseok!” He ignores you completely, putting the keys into the ignition and starting the engine while you bang on the window. “Hoseok! We’re going to talk about this!”

 Despite your fist pounding against the window, heaving breaths shouting through the sky, he pulls away from the curb and goes into reverse. “Hoseok- Fuck! OW FUCKING SHIT!”

 As he was backing up, he mercilessly runs over your foot.

 Pain shoots up your spine and you’re forced to stumble, crouching over and clutching onto your squashed, dirty shoe. You attempt to rip your limb away from under the rubber tire but the force is too much. It feels like you’ve broken your foot or a toenail was ripped off, that it’s bleeding in your tattered nylon sock. It swells and screams. To top off the agony, like a cherry thrown on top of a sundae, he finally drives his car off, freeing your extremity, disappearing in the distant fog and abandoning you on the side of the road.

 “Are you kidding me?!” You sob out to the sky, knocking your head back and letting your broken foot pulsate and throb inside your poor sandal. “HOSEOK!”

 //

 You should’ve known better.

 At the first sign of commitment, he had ran for the hills and was never seen again. You were lied to. You were betrayed. It didn’t matter if you loved him until your heart ached and it didn’t matter if you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. You should’ve listened - to others and to your own instinct. The familiar feeling about the man that put you on edge was a warning.

 Jung Hoseok is never there when you truly need him.

 When you knock on his door, his mother tells you he is not there. When you hear that he has been sent a letter, he is not there. When you wait for a final goodbye, he is not there. When you search for him desperately at the train station before he is sent to the war, he is not there.

 When your foot heals, he is not there.

When you lose the baby, he is not there.

When you cry until it hurts, he is not there.

 When you find out that he has died in the midst of the battlefield, he is truly gone forever.

 “I’m sorry.”

 His comrade lowers his head, hat held in his hand, teardrops dripping on your front doorstep. “W-we couldn’t even get his dog tags. He’s gone, Y/N. Hoseok is dead.”

Jung Hoseok never comes back.

 He never gets to face your wrath, your revenge, your anger or heartbreak. He could never marry you if he wanted to, hold you in his arms and apologize a thousand times, try again to raise a child and to kiss your lips on days when you’re tired. He is not there to grow old with you.

 And you have never been angrier.

 “Who said you could leave, Jung Hoseok?!”

 You screech it to the sobbing sky, embracing the cold and harsh rain drilling on your skull. It drenches you, anchoring you to the ground and you ignore the dirt that splashes against your black dress, walking further and further out to the field.

 “You were supposed to go down on your knees and beg for my fucking forgiveness!” You shriek until your throat is raw, crying it out until you’re not sure what is teardrops or raindrops. It aches everywhere and he isn’t here. He isn’t here. Hoseok isn’t here anymore. “You were supposed to cry when you found out the baby’s gone! Bastard. You are a fucking bastard! You know that?!”

 No matter where you go, Hoseok is always able to find you. But why does he never show up when you need him the most?

 “You threw me away! You left me alone like everyone said you would! I resent you!” Your voice gives out, a mere whimper that no one can hear against the thundering sky. “I resent being in love with you. You were supposed to stay with me, goddammit!”

 The rain is ugly. It reminds you of the day you kissed him.

 “When I meet you again, I swear I’ll never forget the things you’ve done to me. All of it.” You’re not done with Hoseok, far from it. You still have to grab him by the collar, curse and scream and swear at him until he apologizes. You never got to kiss him one last time, embrace him, stare at his face until it’s imprinted into your mind. You didn’t get to say goodbye yet.

 Although the rain can’t, the Heavens can hear the oath you vow.

 “I’ll never forget you,” you breathe, “or so help me god!”

[Present Day]

 You live in fear.

 Regardless of where you are, you’re constantly on edge. You look over your shoulder, running from one city to another, frightened when you catch a tall figure with tousled black hair. It’s been years since you’ve been like this but it seems like you’re still suffering without him around.

 “So, we’re just going to trim half an inch of your hair.”

 You smile in the mirror as the hairdresser positions her silver scissors. “Yes, please.”

 But as you catch a person entering the salon, chiseled jaw and sharp nose, dark locks and great height, you flinch and cower. The lady screams, “hold still!”.

 Though, it’s too late.

 Your head ends up with a horrendous bob haircut. And it wasn’t who you thought it was either. The man was a stranger.

 On another particular day, while making it to your work and gripping an umbrella over your head as it drizzles, across the road and past the fog, you catch a familiar person. Of course as any sane individual would, you scream and try to book it the other way. Unfortunately, your heel ends up getting caught in the cracks of the sidewalk and you collide with a random pedestrian, twisting your ankle in the process as you face-plant.

 Once again, the person you saw was a stranger.

 “Have you found your soulmate yet, Y/N?”

 Your colleague quirks her head to the side, fingers laced together with her husband’s. You down your glass of wine, ordering another from the bar and you look her dead in her eyes.

 “Don’t have one.”

 She doesn’t ask anymore questions.

 If you knew what your grandmother had told you all those years ago, if you knew even before this life and all the others, you would’ve stayed the fuck away from any name of Jung Hoseok.

 You don’t have a soulmate. Far from it. But no longer are you dripping in envy, a green monster to the love surrounding the universe. You’re just trying to survive.

 You don’t have a soulmate, though, you’re not completely free either...no...you have something much, much different and much worse. You have a destructive parasite, destined to ruin each path that you take and cause you sadness, pain, anger. You have something that is guaranteed to lie to you, betray your trust, to hurt you in ways where you’re unable to stand back up again.

 Jung Hoseok is your destined enemy.

 //

 “Why couldn’t anyone else go?” You grumble incoherently underneath your breath, eyes shut tight and head leaning against the cold window. “Dammit, dammit.”

 “Welcome aboard on flight W560 and thank you for flying on our airlines today. Please make sure your belt is on when the plane takes off and prepares to land. There will be a light above-”

 The white noise and engine whirling in the back adds to your thumping headache and anxiousness. You try to drown out the noise, ears ringing and motion sickness teasing you as the airplane begins to roll on the taxiway to the runway. At the very least, you were in business class and there were relatively nice seats, a lot of legroom as well. Luckily, you’re also able to miss the long-winded instructions and the entire takeoff when you fall asleep for about an hour.

 It’s only when your shoulder brushes with the stranger beside you that you’re gently coaxed to consciousness. It’s warm. You can’t remember the last time you had such a nice nap. And your lids flutter, slowly opening your eyes. You meet someone beside you and your lips fall. Your heart stops.

 You scream.

 “Shush!” Hoseok reaches over to clamp a hand over your mouth but you flinch. A flash of hurt crosses his features, and he withdraws his hands, pressing his finger to his own mouth to signal you to be quiet instead. “Stop it, Y/N!”

 You continue to scream, startling and scaring all the surrounding passengers. You cower away from Hoseok, drawing your limbs together and nearly falling out of your seat like you’re afraid his touch will burn you. From the close proximity, you feel suffocated. You are smothered.

 For years, you’ve been running. Ever since you knew about the past, you’ve avoided him like the plague. It must be a consequence from fate now that you’re literally boxed in a long rectangle in the sky. But if he’s here...that means something horrible is bound to happen.

 Oh god...you’re going to die, aren’t you?

 “The plane’s gonna fall!”

 You shout in hysterics, crying so hard that you can’t see straight. The flight attendants have gathered in the commotion, trying to understand what’s happened and the reason for the sudden distressed outburst. “We’re going to crash and burn! It’s going to fall!”

 The people around gasp, murmuring and panicking from your proclamation of the aircraft plunging into the ocean below.

 The attendants rush to pacify you. “We need you to remain calm. Take a deep breath.”

 “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” You shake uncontrollably, hugging your own body and weeping to the point where your chest hurts. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die! Please!”

 “The plane won’t fall, Miss L/N.” A flight attendant calls your name once they’ve learnt it and someone kneels in front of you. “There’s just a little bit of turbulence which is caused by strong winds. You’re going to be perfectly fine! We’re going to land in a half an hour! Would you like to walk to the front and take a breather?”

 The comforting voices of the attendant and the others in the background calming the passengers around drown out of your ears. You’re still weeping, for all the centuries, all the lives you lived, for fear and hatred, for pain and sadness. Because Jung Hoseok is here.

 He’s finally here when you don’t want him to be.

 “I-I…”

 You want to switch seats. You want to get away from the man beside you. You want an escape.

 But you also know that as long as he’s on this aircraft, the possibility of it tumbling downwards to crash and burn are all the same. It doesn’t matter how close he is to you or the distance down to the millimeter. As long as he is around, you’re not safe.

 “Y/N.” It’s a soft and sweet voice, an intimate timbre that rattles inside your skull and pulls you away from your blinded fit. The tears in your eyes fall, no longer clouding the surroundings. The pace of your heart thumps to a regular rhythm, breath steadying with each rise and fall of your chest.

 Your eyes have locked with his. Hoseok gazes at you, having lost the details of your features from his memory and restoring all the changes that have happened over the lost years of your lives together. The man seems to hesitate before he lifts his hand, putting it on top of yours.

 This time, you don’t flinch.

 His thumb runs along your skin. “We’re going to be okay. Nothing’s going to happen. I swear to you. So, please, trust in me this one time.”

 There’s a pause.

 The flight attendant takes a sigh of relief when you’re no longer ballistic. They look between you and the man, recognizing that the pair of you must’ve had some kind of prior relationship. And they decide to stand back, somewhere nearby in case you need assistance but enough to give you space to relax.

 “W-Why are you here?”

 “I’m going on a business trip.” He tries to explain himself, looking down at his lap. It’s been too long since you’ve last spoken to one another. “I work at an insurance company now.”

 You snort. He looks up and you provide the explanation before he can ask. “That’s ironic considering you ran over my foot.”

 Hoseok’s eyes widen. “I did?”

 It makes you sick. You don’t want to think about the past.

 Your head leans against the window and you cross your arms, looking out at the white clouds instead of his face. There’s a chance you might punch him in the jaw and you’d certainly be detained if you did such a thing. “You just happened to sit next to me?”

 “It was a coincidence.” His voice moves up a pitch in defense. “I swear, I didn’t plan this out. I don’t even know that you were going to be on this flight. You can check my ticket! I’m supposed to sit here! When I got here, I saw you asleep, so I just sat down.”

 Of course, it was a coincidence. Fate is such a bitch.

 Hoseok inhales a deep breath. “Y/N, I don’t even know what you’ve been doing for the past few years.”

 “Good.” You mirthlessly smile and it doesn’t reach your dead eyes. “If there’s one thing I’m doing right, it’s not letting you know where the hell I am and not knowing where the hell you are. I need you to stay away from me. As far as fucking possible.”

 “I want to talk.”

 “I don’t.”

 The last time you saw Hoseok was at the parking lot of the theaters back in university. The last time was when you kissed him, remembered and left running. In the midst, he was stunned, hand reaching out to your retreating form and pain struck in his chest and on his face.

 You had begun to run since then and it’s been nearly a decade. True to the doctor’s diagnosis and your own grandmother’s words, you didn’t have a soulmate. Everyone around you had gotten married or became engaged to their kindred spirit while you wandered the planet alone.

 But you didn’t care. As long as you were away from him, you didn’t want anything else.

 “I still love y-”

 “Be...be quiet.” It physically pains you to speak to Hoseok. “I beg of you. Before I get another anxiety attack, I need you to stop and pretend that you’re invisible. Don’t move. Don’t talk. Don’t breathe.”

 You shut your eyes tight, unable to see his expression. “But I need you to listen to me.”

 “I don’t want to listen, alright?!” You’ve been traumatized, the grief clinging onto each of your bones and you feel tears well up in your eyes again. Each time you look at Hoseok, the faces of your previous self shows and you recall history; the smother flames engulfing your home, illness plaguing you as the quill trembles in your hand, standing naked on a stage while a man sells you to a crowd, being beaten to a pulp and running….running...running.

 And the most painful of all memories: being abandoned after knowing love.

 “I’m scared of you. You scare me shitless. Every single time I’ve met you, you messed me up somehow so please!”

 Fortunately for you, Hoseok complies with your wishes. For the rest of the flight, you don’t hear a single peep out of his mouth and once the plane has landed, you hurl yourself out as fast as possible.

 You never once look behind.

 //

 “When are you going back to work?”

 Your mother asks as she sets breakfast down at the table and your father discards the newspaper. Maybe it was taking it one step too far but now that you knew Hoseok was living somewhere in the city, you couldn’t risk going back. If you encountered him once, chances were high that he would keep coming back and back into your life.

 You couldn’t return. At least not until you figured where to run off to next.

 “Not sure yet. I saved a lot of vacation days up so maybe I’ll stick around for two weeks.”

 Presently, you were hidden in the secluded outskirts of your grandmother’s old house. Technically, it’s your parents’ since they moved into the quiet and quaint place for their retirement years. It’s a home for you too and it’s been a long time since you’ve visited.

 “Well alright then.” Your mother seems appeased by the answer and you dig into the toast. She hesitates, exchanging a look with your father and you can recall why you haven’t been back in so long. “Have you found your soulmate yet?”

 “Nope.”

 “Y/N, sweetie, are you even trying to look?”

 “No.” By being as clear-cut and simple, you hope they won’t ask anymore. “I’d rather not.”

 “But how will you ever find them?”

 You fill your mouth up before pointing your fork to the pair of them, narrowing your eyes. “Didn’t you say that if they’re my soulmate, I’ll meet them anyway?”

 Your father nods in agreeance. “But it doesn’t help to look for ‘em, y’know. Makes the process faster.”

 Your mother hums and you can already tell the gears inside her head are beginning to turn. She considers everyone that she knows, friends of relatives, children of friends, anyone who you might know. “What about that boy that you were friends with during preschool? He went to the same schools as you all the way to college too, right? What was his name?”

 Before you can stop her, she says it. “Jung Hoseok!”

 You choke on your orange juice, coughing and heaving. Your mother’s eyes are twinkling, and she grins with your father. “That would make sense, huh? Together since you were children?! And I spoke to his mother a month back. He hasn’t met anyone either, right? Maybe you two are soulmates.”

 “That’s impossible.”

 Literally — Hoseok is the opposite of your soulmate. If your parents knew that he was your enemy, destined to cause you suffering and chaos, they’d never mention him again. Maybe they’d voodoo him and throw salt all over their doorstep too. But you can’t break the news and cause them heartache. You can’t bear to say it and let them know that their only child not only will end up alone in this life and the next, but they have someone out in the world that will cause them endless pain.

 “Plus,” you add, “don’t soulmates recognize each other upon meeting?”

 Your mother’s brow furrows, realizing that you’re right but your father taps his chin, not ready to give up on the idea. “I’ve been reading lately and the T.V. says there’s a lot of things that go into soulmates so who knows, maybe it’s just a late blooming relationship.”

 You hold back a laugh. “I seriously doubt it.”

 “Don’t give up hope, L/N Y/N. You hear me?” Your mother lectures, tone becoming stern and unyielding. “You’ll meet the one someday. Maybe tomorrow or the next day. You always do and there’s nothing you can do to run away from it!”

 Christ...you can only hope she’s wrong.

 //

 The field was verdant in hue, the mint walls of your bedroom and soft beryl flowers haunted you. Green was the colour of your envy, of the luck that you didn’t have, of your greed for love and companionship. But it was also the shade of the serene nature that surrounded you, the symbol of healing and of hope. Hope that would certainly hurt you in the end.

 More importantly, the colour reminded you of him. And you couldn’t bring yourself to hate it.

 “Y/N! There’s someone here for you!” Your mother’s call has you stumbling down the stairs in confusion. There wasn’t anyone that you knew around these parts and- “It’s been so long! We were actually talking about you earlier. Oh, speaking of which, you haven’t met your soulmate yet, right, Hoseok?”

 You freeze. Your mother moves aside. The man is standing in front of your doorway with a sheepish smile, one that conveys too many apologies at once.

 He’s a hundred years too late.

 “What are you doing here?”

 “I just thought we should talk.”

 “Now, Y/N.” Your mother butts in. “Be nice to our guest! It’s been so long since I’ve seen him as well. Hoseok, dear, would you like to go in for a drink of coffee or tea? You can stay for as long as you’d like-”

 “No.” You stride past her, grabbing onto his sleeve and dragging him away. “We’re talking outside.”

 It hurts. It pains you beyond belief. You never thought you had to face him again. Yet, here you are. No matter where you go, he’s always able to find you. And it drives you crazy in the worst ways.

 “How did you even find me here?”

 You’re tapping your foot, arms crossed, completely unimpressed with his presence. On the other hand, Hoseok is meekly smiling at you, taking in the quiet surroundings of the field. It reminds him of an era that was long ago where it was more tranquil, and he was by your side, taking aimless strolls to waste the evening away.

 “You took me here in the first grade and then again in ninth and twelve. You might not remember but we grew up together.” He watches you carefully. “In this life. Not the other ones. In this one, we were friends long before anything else happened.”

 “Used to be.” You correct. “We used to be friends.”

 There’s a silence.

 “Why are you even here, Hoseok?” You break the summer birds’ song, interrupting the sun’s fall from the horizon. “Is it to apologize so you can feel better about yourself? Do you want to try to move on? Well guess what, you’re too late. You’re lifetimes and lifetimes too late.”

 He takes a moment to decide his words. “I hate that you’re afraid of me.”

 You laugh without an inch of happiness. “I think it’s for good reason, don’t you?”

 “I still care about you. I love you, Y/N.”

 You spin on your heel, having absolutely none of it. It takes all the strength in your muscles to begin to walk away from him. Hoseok inhales a breath and for once, the roles are reversed.

 He watches your backside disappear slowly, counting each step you take that increases the distance and leaves him farther away from you.

 He takes the leap of courage before you’re gone.

 “In the sixteenth century,” he screams and you stop, “I didn’t betray you because I wanted to. It was the plan from the start. The people were suffering and the kingdom needed to be overthrown. The painter...I...still loved you very much.”

 The bandage around the wound is ripped straight off. It hasn't healed. It stings.

 “When you wrote all those books in the seventeenth, I just wanted to help you and get your work out there in the world. I...I came back and I didn’t know you had d-...d...died.”

 Hoseok almost begins to cry. His nails sink into his clothing. His head drops to the floor. It hits you like a bullet train - you weren’t the only one who was tortured.

 You turn around to face him.

 “In the eighteenth, I was a fucking douchebag, I know. But I had suffered so much as a peasant. I wanted a better life for myself. It...It wasn’t my intention to make you suffer too.”

 You call his name, and he ignores you, continuing onwards.

 “The nineteenth.” Hoseok smiles past saltwater eyes. “It was better for you not to gamble. I would have fed you, given you a warm home, and I was going to release you after a year. And maybe, maybe you would have stayed if I asked you to.”

 You step closer to the boy and you wait for the reasons of the years that hurt you the most.

 “In the twentieth — I’m sorry.”

 Jung Hoseok, like all you had hoped for, collapses onto his knees. He faces the dirt, tears dripping like raindrops. “I was a coward. I was too afraid of everything.”

 Your shadow looms over him. He grabs onto the hem of your sweater, anchoring him down to the ground, and he begs for your forgiveness. It’s pathetic, the way he sobs but you don’t feel a single morsel of satisfaction like you thought you would. It aches. Everywhere.

 “You didn’t say goodbye to me.”

 “I’m so sorry.”

 Your arms stay by your side and you look down at him.

 “I lost the baby.”

 Hoseok cries harder. “I’m sorry.”

 “I waited for you.”

 He continues to apologize, each one full of sincerity and anguish. “I’m sorry.”

 “You were supposed to stay with me.”

 “I’m sorry.”

 Your hand lifts. You hold Hoseok close to you, carding your fingers through the familiar black locks. It’s been the same pigment for all the centuries you’ve known each other for.

 “Every single day, I waited for you to come back and you never did.”

 His tears stain the fabric of your clothes. “I’m sorry.”

 “You were never there when I needed you the most.”

 He stands himself back up onto wobbling legs, on a face drenched with tears, with a heart weak and overwhelmed. “B-but I’m here now.” He wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and you linger in the close proximity, yearning to be closer yet keeping the distance.

 “I’m scared that the longer I spend with you, the worse the outcome will be in the end.”

 “I’m sorry.” He shouldn’t apologize. This time, it isn’t his fault. “I just...I can’t leave you. I can’t do it. In all the lives we’ve shared together, I’ve loved you in each one. But I never fought hard enough. I never fought hard enough for you.”

 “That doesn’t change the fact that you scare me.” You lock your eyes with him. “I’m scared of what will happen later on, if you’ll end up causing me more grief, if I somehow die in a tragic death and never live peacefully or happily. How many more times do we have to keep living like that before we learn that it’s better to stay apart?”

 “But it’s not up for fate to decide for me!” He shouts it with resentments of the past, of the hand of destiny and his own choices that have led you to become so petrified of him and to be so broken. “I don’t fucking care about destiny or about soulmates or whatever the hell we are! Enemies?! I don’t care!”

 You scream back, “How can you not care?!”

 “Fate doesn’t control me.” He’s out of breath and your eyes widen. “And as long as I’m breathing, I’ll make sure I’ll continue to atone for my mistakes. I’ll make sure you’re the happiest woman alive.”

“How can you be so sure?” You ask him, pleading for an answer, gazing into his eyes. “How can you be so sure of yourself? Of us?” 

“Because I love you. I love you,” Hoseok repeats. “And maybe that’s not enough. Maybe it’s not enough to beat whatever’s been predetermined for us. Maybe it’s not enough to restore your trust in me. But I love you. And I can’t walk away from us. I’ll try as many times as I need to. I will fight for as many centuries as I need to. All I know is that I want to be with you....in this life and the next.”

“You’re stupid.” You shake your head. “You’re stupid for believing that we can beat fate but maybe I’m more stupid...for always fucking believing in you.”

 One moment you’re shouting at each other and the next you’re tearfully laughing.

 Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe you’ll end up suffering again and again, back on the endless loop of hardships and heartbreak. Maybe it’s dumb of you to think that you can beat fate at its own game. You’ve been hurt enough times. How much more can you handle and how many more times will it take for you to learn? Jung Hoseok is your destined enemy after all.

 But maybe he’s right.

 Maybe you have more control of your life than you thought. Maybe it isn’t up to destiny or some unseen source. At the end, your existence wouldn’t be worth anything if you keep on running away. A peaceful life but an unhappy one isn’t what you want.

 You love Hoseok. In this life. In the last ones. You always have.

 All you need is a leap of courage and to fight hard for what you want.

 “Then let’s fight together.” You wrap your arms around him, staring at him until it’s imprinted into your mind, embracing his body and kissing his lips once - fulfilling all your wishes from the previous life. “You can make my life as much of a hell as you want. Just don’t leave.”

 “I won’t.” He pulls you close, arms around your shoulders and holding you tightly. Hoseok breathes in your familiar scent, crying and endlessly grateful for your existence. He does all the things he should’ve done. And he keeps you close.

 You giggle, melting into the hug. “I still love you.”

 Although your love is not a burst of electricity, where the heart stops and the breath gets caught - the universe doesn’t suddenly shine in brighter hues, becoming vibrant and louder - this love is yours.

 “I love you too.”

 It is yours. A constant work in progress, a construction of hard effort and bruised hands, of tired and relentless struggle but it’s one that you fight for. And it’s one that you know, you’ll be proud of in the end.

 “Now stop crying and come inside.” You tease him, stroking his hair and patting his back. “I think my mom and dad are watching from the window.” He nods and sniffles and you laugh.

 This man was once a painter and editor, a swindler and a loan shark, a soldier as well. But now, the boy is your old friend and someone you cherish with every part of your being.

 Instead of looking behind, you focus on the horizon and your fingers lace together with his. “Stay with me for a while?”

 Hoseok grins. “Always.”

 No matter where you go, he’s always able to find you.

 And now he’s here when you need the most.

[captain-yeet]

Oh No, He’s Hot - Part 4

Pairing: Felix x Reader

Summary: Half a year has passed, and Y/N and her Volturi lover boy are still going strong despite the distance… but the betrayal of a close friend of the Cullens may divide them. I live on angst.

Masterlist here 

Laying down on your bed, you took a deep breath and sighed.

It has been six months since the day of the Newborn attack, and a lot has happened within that time.

First off, Bella and Edward got married. Then proceeded to have a hybrid vampire/human child. Now she’s a vampire, and her and Edward’s daughter was growing at an alarming rate. Second, you and Felix were going steady. The Cullens were wary, the newly wed parents especially. Which you couldn’t fault them for; who knows what the Volturi would do if they found out about their daughter? If it were you, you’d want to keep your child secret as well. But, you were an adult and fully consenting in this relationship and they respected your wish to stay with him.

Dating Felix was interesting. For one, your communication was primarily through phone calls and letters. You missed seeing him terribly, and the feeling was mutual on his side too. Despite his reputation as the Volturi’s hulking, menacing executioner, he was quite a kind lover. Every phone call he would ask about your day and respond with interest when you talked to him about things that happened.

You didn’t tell him of Bella and Edward’s child. It wasn’t your place, and Renesmee herself was a sweet kid - you didn’t want to see any harm come to her.

The third and final development over the past few months has been your powers.

It seemed like the more you practiced, the stronger you became. Carlisle had been in contact with a few individuals that had similar abilities to you, trying to help you figure yourself out. One was Kate, a vampire from the Denali coven, with the power to electrocute anyone she touches at will. The second was a young man from an Egyptian coven, who could control the elements. Despite some similarities between yours and their abilities, even they could quite place their fingers on what exactly your powers were. The Egyptian vampire summed it up as a power similar to his; very potent, but for the most part, a mystery.

Regardless of the stress of trying to figure out what exactly your powers were, you enjoyed them.

You found that you could even travel via a chain of lightning summoned from the sky at will. The day you found out about it was not the best of times, but you found some slight amusement in it.

You were sitting on a log in the same snow covered meadow you fought alongside vampires in months ago, watching the little half-vampire girl leap high into the air to catch snowflakes. Her wolf protector - who you found out later was her “imprint”, a wolf version of vampire’s mating - standing somewhat near you. Renesmee excitedly showed her mother who was also present the perfectly shaped snowflake she caught, grinning gleefully.

It would have been a sweet, family moment, if not for the nearby vampire who witnessed it all.

Her name was Irina. You remembered her furious glare as she watched your group, before running away. Bella tried calling out to her, but no luck.

“She must be upset about Jacob,” she concluded, gesturing to the wolf who was hovering over Renesmee.

“We should head back, let the others know,” you replied breathlessly.

As you all got ready to travel, something unexpected happened. You began running back in the direction of the Cullen’s home, and then a burst of light appeared in the clearing. You felt yourself instinctively leap, feeling the cold winter wind against your face. Then, with a crack of thunder, you landed right on the Cullen’s driveway, surprising a shocked young wolf boy named Seth, who dropped a sandwich he was eating in shock. Your sudden appearance made all the vampires in the house run out to investigate.

Looking back through Seth memories, Edward informed everyone that you seemed to have teleported via a chain of lightning. From the singe marks on the ground surrounding where you landed, no one argued this conclusion.

Shortly after Bella and co. arrived back, Alice had her vision; the Volturi were coming. And they wanted to kill Renesmee on the suspicion she was an immortal child.

So now here you were, stressed and even more confused, blankly staring at the ceiling as you waited for Felix to call you.

Life here sure is interesting, you thought lamely, a small chuckle coming from you.

The phone laying beside you on the bed began to ring, and you took a deep breath. Was he aware of everything? He had to be. There’s no way he wouldn’t be.

Summoning your remaining courage, you picked up the phone and pressed the answer button. “Hey,” you said breathlessly.

“Hello Y/N,” Felix’s deep voice replied on the other end. There was a slightly formal tone to his voice, which added to your fear of him knowing everything.

You let out a heavy sigh. “So, things have gotten rather… complicated here.”

“So I’ve gathered,” he replied, “your surrogate family has made an immortal child, it seems. That’s not exactly a pardonable offense.”

You rolled on your side, pressing the phone to your ear a little tighter. “But that’s the thing, Lex. The kid isn’t immortal! She’s a… living, breathing thing.”

You heard an exasperated sigh. “Why did you not tell me any of this?”

“I didn’t feel like it was my place to,” you spoke earnestly, really trying to convince him. “I know I kept this from you, it’s true, and I’m so sorry for doing that. But please trust me that what I’m telling you no is the truth; there’s no immortal children here.”

There was a long pause on Felix’s end. You almost thought he’d put the phone down and left until he responded. “Then tell me your side of things,” he asked in a low voice. “Things here are very… hostile. I have Aro in my ear telling me not to believe you if you try to convince me otherwise. And now I don’t know what to believe.”

A pit of anger began to form in your chest at the news of his “master” trying to convince him that you weren’t to be trusted. “Okay love, I’ll tell you everything.”

And so you did. You told him of when Bella came back from her and Edward’s honeymoon sick and already with a baby bump. You told him of the details of the pregnancy, and the delivery - at least, what you witnessed. As soon as she went into “labour”, you stood there in shock. You followed them all into the delivery room Carlisle had set up. You saw Rosalie lose her cool at Bella’s blood. And you saw Edward use his teeth to get to the baby. That part of the story drew a shocked noise from Felix on the other end of the line.

You also explained how she aged quickly, and that she had a heartbeat. “And that’s everything I haven’t told you,” you concluded your story, anxious to hear his reaction.

It took a while for Felix to respond. “If… if what you’re saying is true, then this changes everything about what’s going to happen,” he spoke in a low, urgent voice. “Y/N, I’ll probably get Jane’s torture treatment for telling you this but… the Volturi aren’t coming to hear the Cullen’s side of the story. They’re - we, are coming for an execution.”

Your hands started shaking as you sat up straight. “But there was no crime committed!” you almost shouted, voice wavering.

“That doesn’t matter; my coven has had it out for the Cullens for quite some time now. Any excuse, any slight reason will do.”

You felt sick. You felt like you needed to run to the nearest bathroom soon. Or cry. Or scream. Or do all of those things in that exact order. “So there’s no hope, then?” you asked feebly.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen, mia cara,” he answered honestly, his tone now sad.

“I really am sorry for not telling you about all of this.”

“Hey now,” Felix began shooshing you over the phone. “I understand why you did it, and you’re being honest with me now.”

The two of you were silent for a moment, you taking a moment to steady yourself. I have to be strong, you thought firmly. Crying won’t get me anywhere, even if it’s a totally reasonable reaction to all of this. “So what happens now?”

“Now… I don’t know. I guess the next time I’ll be seeing you is at the trial, then we’ll know what exactly the truth is.”

“Wait…” you paused before continuing. “You do believe me, right?”

There was a pause on Felix’s end.

Too long of a pause for your liking.

You let out a humorless laugh. “You don’t,” you breathed, grinning bitterly.

“Y/N…” he began slowly.

“Don’t you trust me?”

“I do, of course I do!” you heard Felix curse away from the phone under his breath. Another voice could be heard faintly on the other line. “I just… I can’t think of a reason Aro would lie to us. I’ve been under his service for decades… I just cannot wrap my head around the possibility of even him stooping so low as to deceive us all, even with his grudge against the Cullens.”

Closing your eyes, you drew a deep breathe to calm yourself before replying. “But do you believe me?”

“I believe you’re telling me the truth now, I really do,” he said, being careful to choose his words.

The other voice in the background was louder now. You could hear them say, “We have to go now!”

“I’m sorry, I need to go. We’re preparing to leave soon,” his tone was apologetic.

Shaken, you nodded even though he couldn’t see it. “Felix?”

“Yes?”

“I care about you,” you said softly.

A small sigh could be heard from him. “I care about you too, more than you know. Whatever happens, that will never change.”

The line went dead. You flopped back down onto the bed, your chest tight with anxiety. You felt strongly for Felix - part of you even began to conclude that you even loved him. But you’ve never said it, preferring to save that for when you come face to face again.

But now, you wondered if you’ll ever get the chance to.

[downbythewater-beachblondee]

19| Budha couldn’t do it

Elijah

Moments like these I wish my ma planned a fucking wake. Who plans a funeral without a wake? A hint to her own insanity, it was.

It was around 8 o'clock. Everyone in the house had their own agenda. Black was the new black in everyones attire except mine. Yes, I wore black but I tightened a purple tie around my neck worse than Esther ever could. I did my best.

"Fuck," I concluded, hoping to escape the memories dwelling inside of the bedroom my dead wife and I shared only a week ago. For once, I had envisioned those sloppy seconds of ours as more than a duty or task to complete because of our unspoken commitment. I wanted her, sure. But a need was of better essence. Anyone who knew me knew that Esther was something I needed and whenever I needed something I always had it. Which is why I refuse to accept that she's gone.

See. It doesn't even sound right.

My mothers heels clacked in the ever long fashion they always clacked. She headed into the kitchen picking up anything in her way and placing it back down. It was as if she were searching for an explanation underneath every item miscellaneously situated on the kitchen table.

"What," She badgered, looking up at me once.

I shook my head. This was probably the first time in a long time that I'd actually faced my mother head on without Esther's arms locked into mine. She couldn't say the right things anymore so I used her conscious.

"That tie is ugly." She said, waltzing over towards the living room mirror. "Change it."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"I said no. I don't have time to argue with you about anything today."

"...I know that face."

She crawled closer to my presence like the true feline she was.

"You're feeling guilty." She purred, prompting my heart to cave in and beat within itself.

"Yes, baby. You're feeling guilty...and I know the reason why." Her fingers inched towards my left ear slowly. I'm guessing this was her way of soothing me after all of these years.

"Because you are guilty." Her voice boomed contrastingly deeper and scarier than her primitive sound. A light squeeze pinched at my ear as she gritted her teeth.

"You should have done more. You were a horrible husband."

"Mom-"

"You wasn't studden that girl. I'm glad she's gone. That way her and her baby can rest in peace without even the possibility of you fucking anything else up."

"Dinah, where's my tie! Damn it!" My father howled. Just like my mother, he was everywhere...searching for something in nothing.

"I don't know, nigga. Borrow one from ya son." She answered, patting her lion padded feet elsewhere. "And where is every got damn body? Rosetta!"

"Hah!!!!" My sister called from upstairs.

"Get yo ass down here! All ya'll get down here and stand in a single file line. Now!"

Rosie, my brother, my dad, and I scurried towards 'getting ready' until we stood shoulder to shoulder in a line facing the queen herself.

She peered at us with the most emotion and deficit that I'd seen in ages. She played with her mouth. Whatever was about to seep out of it was finna be important. If we didn't take heed she'd have one of our heads plastered onto the wall for all to see. I didn't want to be on the receiving end.

"Play your parts, people. Everyone will be at this event this evening and I need zero fuck ups. Zero."

"It's a funeral, mama." Emended Rosie.

"Fuck up number one...Rosie keep your mouth shut. Cover your tattoo's. No one wants to know who you're sleeping with this month and for Gods sake do something with that nasty hair of yours."

Rosie, usually the one to object anything Dinah had to say, rolled her eyes and accepted her defeat as if she were still in middle school. For Esther's sake.

"Titus Jr...I don't have to worry about you. Keep your mouth shut and your face pretty. The only thing I want to hear you talk about is school."

Like the momma's boy he was, he smiled comically. "You got it mama."

"Husband...darling." She hummed, caressing my fathers face with her claws. "Keep your eyes to the sky...not on anyone else. Not tonight. And if you even think of pulling that 'trip to the bathroom' trick...you'll be sleeping on the couch for a month."

Next, it was my turn.

"I suppose you've suffered enough guilt as is, my Elijah...but please. Keep your conversation to a minimal."

"Listen, I don't have to answer to you. My wife is dead. I'm sure I can handle myself just fine."

My father and siblings couldn't even look at me all the way, perhaps in fear that the lioness would greet them with a jab at the jugular. But whatever it was, I did it and they were amazed.

"You think you're tough shit. I don't care what you do Elijah," She continued. "This is my rep on the line. This is stupid! This entire situation...looks stupid. How do you think it makes me feel when your fathers entire congregation is asking me what happened to my daughter and what drove her to suicide?"

"Why does it bother you so much mother? One, she isn't your daughter. Two, my fathers congregation is null and void. The entire church was torn down so whatever preconceptions they have about you, I'm sure Esther's death is the least of their worries."

"Everyone has an opinion, silly boy. Tonight is the night we create new ones. Regardless of what your father did, we still have impressions to fulfill, yes? Sort of like that job you have. Preconceptions, you say? Los Cabasas is full of them. Everyone knows about Esther's death."

"Oh yeah? And I wonder who told the news about it? Was it you?"

"No."

"I have the call log. 1-800-CabasasNewsArea shows up perfectly. Would you like to see it, Mrs. Dinah."

"You sick shit." She reckoned, tucking her fat bottom lip between her teeth. "What do you want. An award?"

"Mama, why would you do that?" Rosie questioned as if we were in a play and her que were an aside.

"Because this is a game, children." She snorted. "Play it well. Everyone would have found out sooner and later so it was best I did what I did to clear up any confusion by allowing a public announcement. For Esther."

"Bullshit. Dinah, this is an amusement park for you. You. It's all about how you want everyone else to feel about you."

She trailed closer to me still clothed with those slits in her eyes.

"For all of her life...Esther trailed in your faux reign. For a small portion of her death...let her have her own...even if it is through me..."

_____________

The funeral was of quintessence. I kept my head down, afraid that an ocean would tear at the protective sheet in my eyes.

'Going up Yonder' would be the death of me, and I meant that with all of its entirety. If I had been hit with a bag of bricks, maybe I would've believed Esther was finally gone.

But that funeral was ton of cement. Now, she was hiding from me and never coming back. That made things worse. I could talk about how I almost broke down because no one knew how guilty I was. I could talk about how I wanted to die in the casket alongside her or how innocent she looked in that white dress. I could mention how I didn't deserve to live or attend that very funeral.

But I couldn't because none of that happened. In fact, I was numb due to the fact that I had taken 3 Xanax's earlier that morning.

During the repass, I excused myself because I hated greeting strangers.

As I made my way out of the mens room, I noticed a familiar smell. Coco butter and pop rocks. Sounds about right.

"Oh my God...thank you for coming." I heard my sisters voice coo.

I saw her hugging a girl much shorter than her with wild tendrils tucked around a flower crown.

"Anything...if you need anything please ask. Where is Elijah?"

"Right here." I announced, noticing her beautiful brown face under a slither of makeup. Noticeable enough for me to recognize but she still looked the same.

"Sanaa....what are you doing here?" I asked, afraid that my mothers serene cock blocking skills would soon tear this building to pieces with everyone in it diced and sliced to perfection.

"Your sister has been a great friend of mine. She told me about what happened and I came right away. Elijah, I am so...so...sorry."

"It's fine. I'm fine."

Her hands gathered into mine, causing a few glances shot towards us. I can only imagine how livid mama would be if she saw Sanaa embracing me right now. Yes, Sanaa was my woman but everyone else would see her as a concubine. No one else knew about Esther and I's 'sleeping arrangements'. She had her situation and I had mine.

I'm sure Sanaa would understand.

"Baby...not right now."  I whispered.

"Elijah, I need you to-" My mothers incessant voice was abruptly halted by the sight of Sanna's honey colored fingers laced into mine.

"Who the fuck is this?" She summoned. Now everyone started to observe. Funeral drama must've really been a main attraction for some people.

"I did. She's a friend of the family." Rosie squeaked.

"A little too god damned friendly. Do she know Elijah wife just died?"

"She does. And I'm right here." Bucked Sanaa, standing toe to toe with my mom.

I would've came to her rescue, regardless of the fact that Sanaa was literally my concubine at my wife's funeral. But I didn't have a chance to.

Rosie reached behind her shoulders. "Okay, that's enough. Mom, this is Sanaa. Sanaa, this is Dinah. Our mom. She's just mourning. We're going to go sit, now."

Sanaa and Rosie walked away.

Like always, Rosie came to my rescue. Even though I don't think she knew about Sanaa and I's relationship completely, she dissolved any confrontations that would've set this church on fire. Singlehandedly, I realized I was dependent upon the women around me.

Furthermore, Sanaa and Rosie must've had a pretty tight relationship. They talked the entire time.

[stripestheboar]

Why Him?

@bublp0pr, my boy. My beautiful bouncing baby boy. You are an absolute saint for being as patient as you are. Thank you for sticking around through all my shit. Hopefully you enjoy this. 

It took a bit of planning, but it’s finally finished. The ultimate crackship. My boy..... enjoy. 

Word Count: 4,257

Summary: Flowey finally discovers someone who can make him feel something for the first time since his creation. However, it may not be all that he was hoping for.

Flowey considered himself a being higher than all others. With his gift to turn back the clock, he didn’t see a reason why he wasn’t. After all, he was practically immortal, wasn’t he? Why should he be considered as low as them if there was no way to truly be defeated.

Okay, well, there was Sans, but we’re just going to pretend he doesn’t exist at the moment.

Undyne, is another, but for now, she’s non-existent as well.

Oh yeah, and Frisk, but we can just throw them into the non-existent pile, too.

Also Asgore, but that’s only because- okay, we’re getting off track here. All that you need to know is that Flowey is a hard ass.

Anyways, Flowey was the self-declared most powerful monster in the Underground, and all due to his lack of an actual soul, thus leading to a lack of compassion for most of the monsters in the Underground. Even when Frisk brought him up aboveground, he still found himself lacking any real joy or excitement for the time. His pessimism had him convinced that any minute Frisk would decide to go back on their word and screw the entire world over with another reset. Any semblance of joy that he felt was short, shallow, and almost artificial, just like every other “emotion” that happened to slip past. Even when it was becoming increasingly apparent that he wasn’t going to change his ways anytime soon, everyone was still so adamant over sticking by his side no matter what. It was frustrating, really, just to see all these monsters with better lives and more potential waste their time on him. It almost made him physically ill just to experience it. Even Sans refused to give up on him, and he had practically given up on himself already. But just because Flowey was annoyed with it didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy it. He had promised to stop his torment of others, after all, and when Frisk was involved, he just didn’t seem to have the will to break it. He just wanted to see how everything would play out. Yeah, that’s why. The only one he knew would truly understand what should be done in these types of hopeless situations was Chara, but she couldn’t exactly speak as of now.

However, like with most rules or laws of the universe, there is somehow an exception to everything. It took nearly a year after the Pacifist End to get to that exception, but it eventually came. No resets had come, and now he was faced with a factor he hadn’t expected to see ever in his lifetime.

When Flowey had first seen him in the Underground all that time ago, there had only been a passing glance. No torture had really been involved, as usual, as this monster in particular was a naturally passive, but had the negative trait of being rather… unbearable. Despite that, after each and every time he loaded a save file, he could feel something begin to bloom inside him. He couldn’t describe it, as he just didn’t know what it was. But, with time, he soon discovered that this feeling was much unlike the spite and malice he held towards most, but instead like the feeling he had whenever he had been around Chara, the only person he had really felt a connection to. And yet, there he was, unable to help the sense of a true bond forming between himself and this… thing. He hated him with every fiber of his small being, and yet this monster was somehow able to make his soulless being melt at a simple glance and smile in everything he did. It infuriated him to no end to not know why he held such an attraction to this monster. He hated everything about him, but at the same time wanted everything to do with him. This monster was like no other. He made Flowey feel a happiness or joy he hadn’t fathomed in years. He made him feel a sort of compassion; it was love, even. As much as he hated to admit it, he felt love for this crude monster. He was the one that could bring Flowey into happiness, and yet they didn’t even know each other. He was short, a bit on the wider side, and did nothing but laze around and complain. He was perfect. He was amazing. He was everything Flowey needed to feel complete. He was his soulmate.

He was Jerry.

Now, Flowey knew just how repulsive this urchin was; almost no one could bear to stand him. However, he found himself unable to bear his attraction as time went on, the feeling of spiritual need for this monster in order to make him feel something was undeniable. And so, it was decided: one simple meet up couldn’t hurt, right? After all, Jerry must’ve been a lonely monster. He should be bowing and kissing his roots for even allowing him to spend time with him.

Guilt struck Flowey at that moment, one of the biggest downsides to this whole ordeal. Even thinking bad of this monster made him regret ever thinking of it in the first place. It was torturous, really, but he was convinced that a simple date with Jerry would cause those wretched emotions to subside some.

And who knew? Maybe it would all be worth it in the end.

Fourteen months to the day of their ascent up to the surface, Flowey finally decided that it was either do it or live a life craving love and affection he could never get. He had found Jerry at an internet café, idly clicking things on the computer while occasionally glancing down at his phone with a bored look. He didn’t even seem to notice when a small flower broke through the floorboards next to him and cleared his voice.  

“Howdy, Jerry,” Flowey began, catching the monster’s attention. The slightly bigger monster turned in his chair, breathing heavily as he looked down at the flower. “You may not know me… you may not even bother to care who I am. But, I know you.” He looked down at the ground, taking in a large breath. “I’ve been watching you, as creepy as that may sound. And I, well…. I have this strange feeling for you. A feeling that I can’t tell just really what it is or what it means, but it makes me feel… complete, you know? It may be hard for you to understand, but I just chance, you know? So… I can’t believe I’m saying this but, will you go on a date with me?”  

He closed his eyes, the fear of rejection rising up within him. Actual, genuine fear rushed through his stem and his roots, not wanting to be denied the chance to be happy again. The feeling was almost euphoric, really, but he didn’t know what he would do if he was turned down.

He sat there, the silence only staged off by the various humans and monsters typing up on their computers. Jerry said nothing, and Flowey feared that this would be his end. He didn’t want his chances to end here, mere days after he had gotten his first taste of love and joy in years. The fear continued to well up as Jerry said nothing, but he couldn’t bear to look up at the small monster. All these years of being alone with only himself to relate to had left him hungering for any type of emotion, but for the first time, heartbreak was what terrified him the most. He was scared.

The seconds ticked by. Jerry continued to keep silent, only increasing the tenseness within Flowey’s roots. He didn’t know what the monster was thinking, but at this point, he was dying for any small bit of closure. So, with an inhale, he forced himself to look up.

Jerry wasn’t even looking at him. He was on his phone, typing away at something while Flowey sat there dumbfounded. ‘What the hell?’ he thought to himself. ‘Had this buffoon even heard a word of what I said?’

“Hey!”  

Jerry blinked and looked down in confusion. “Huh?” he mumbled, his voice annoyingly nasally as he took his eyes off his phone for those few rare moments. “You. Me. Date!” Flowey demanded, making it as simple as possible. Jerry merely wiped his nose. “Does your house have Wi-Fi?” he asked, glancing at his computer. “Yes! Yes my house has more Wi-Fi than you can shove up your fat litt- ahem.” Flowey closed his eyes and cleared his voice. “Yes, my house has Wi-Fi. I’ll even give you the password. Just one date is all I ask. How’s that?”  

“Sure. Whatever,” Jerry shrugged, logging off of his computer and getting off his chair. “Where are we going? Hopefully not somewhere lame.” Flowey felt something die inside of him as he realized this may have been the biggest mistake of his life.

“Well, yes, I had an idea,” the flower offered. “How about to my house? We can get to know each other more before we go on our first date.” Jerry just shook his head. “Nah, I have a better idea. Let’s go out to Mettaton’s Burger Emporium. I’m pretty hungry right now.” Flowey’s smile faded some at the thought of going to such a costly fast food place right now, but he just sucked it up, replaced the dull expression with a fresh smile, and gestured to the door. “This way, then. It’s just a few blocks away, so we can talk while we-“

“Wait. You want me to walk all the way there?” Jerry interrupted, his already fat lips sticking out some like a duck’s bill. Flowey blinked in confusion, not exactly expecting that response. “Well… yeah. That’s okay, right? I mean, it’s just a short walk. It’s not like you’ll-“

“You didn’t even bring a car?” Jerry scoffed.

“I… I can’t drive. I’m a flower,” Flowey said slowly. However, he knew he had to fix this. If not, Jerry would surely reject him here and now. “Well, I can get us a ride! In fact, I know someone who knows a shortcut there!” He quickly pulled out the phone Toriel had gotten him for his birthday, quickly finding Sans’ number. As much as he hated that trash bag, he needed to salvage this already disastrous meet up. Jerry just sighed and got back onto the computer. “Make it quick, dude.”

Once the skeleton’s number was found, Flowey was quick to call him. After a few rings, Sans answered, which was a surprise. He usually just ignored the phone calls altogether.  

“Hey,” Sans greeted in his usual slow drawl. “Watchya need, weed?” It took every ounce of strength not to berate Sans right there in the middle of the café. “Tra- Sans, I need a lift to Mettaton’s burger place.” He heard the other’s signature stunted chuckle of the other on. “Heh. Alright then. But it’s gonna cost ya.” Flowey grimaced, his inventory already empty of any G that he didn’t want to spend on their food. Glamburgers were expensive, after all. “I don’t have any money,” he growled, making sure his voice was low so he didn’t discourage Jerry fully. “It doesn’t cost much. Just a simple ‘please’ is all I need. Oh, and add a ‘Sans is the ultimate punmaster’ at the end there for good measure” The plant’s reaction was immediate. “What?” he hissed. “C’mon, Sans. Cut me a break!” “Oh it’s just a few words,” Sans mocked. “Flower you going to survive?” Flowey felt his patience thinning. “Sans, just pick me up now!” he spat, only to be met with the sound of crinkling tin foil on the other side. “Oh no, I think our phone connection is dying,” Sans said in mock anguish, squeezing the crumpled up tin more on his side of the call.

“God damn it, fine! Please pick me up and you’re the ultimate punmaster!” Flowey exploded, seething in anger due to his already short temper.  

“Heh, alright. I’m convinced.”

The call was soon dropped, and within seconds, Sans entered the café, his grin cockier than usual. “Alright, weed, let’s get a move on. Tori’s making pie. I wanna be at her place before it gets cold.” He looked around, his vision skirting around Jerry. “So, who’s your ‘friend’? It’s not the Ice Cap, is it? Those things really need to learn to chill. Heh.” Flowey gave an annoyed sigh and gestured to his date. “It’s Jerry.” Jerry just gave a wave from his computer, still focused on Undernet. The tops of the skeleton’s sockets raised some, but he gave a slow nod. “Him? Alright then. C’mon Jerry.”

Jerry merely grunted as he continued to search on his computer. Flowey sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “Jerry! Now!” he demanded, making the monster sigh and get down from his chair, waddling over to Sans and wrapping a small, thin hand around Sans’ thickly-boned one. It was clear from the skeleton’s expression that he had only now realized just how greasy Jerry’s hands were. He seemed to grimace, his actual permanent grin not fading as he quickly bent down to pick up Flowey. The flower dislodged his roots from the cracked surface of the wooden floor and latched around Sans’ arm. And with that, they walked out.

They soon found themselves in front of the fast food place. The moment Sans was able to shake Jerry off of his hand, he wiped his carpals all over his jacket to get the grease off. He set Flowey down, who quickly planted himself down in a nearby potted plant. “I should need you in about an hour or so. Stand by your phone, okay?” Flowey told him, only to get a chuckle in response. “Heh, sure thing. A ‘thank you’ would be nice, y’know. Well, enjoy your… whatever.” Sans spun on his heel and promptly walked off.

The two walked inside the cooled restaurant, the smell of greasy Glamburgers and fruity Starfait hitting them instantly. Flowey didn’t need to eat magical foods, but he definitely could, so he thought that just downing one small meal wouldn’t be so bad. They got into line, Flowey latching into Jerry’s arm so he didn’t have to keep breaking the floorboards and having to make Toriel pay for damages. Jerry didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he didn’t even seem to notice, just texting on his phone. Flowey was the more disturbed one, really, as he could feel his roots beginning to soak up the oily substances and sweat that just seemed to coat Jerry’s entire body. If he had a gag reflex, it would definitely have been triggered by now.

The line shortened fairly quickly, and by the time it was their turn, Jerry was still on his phone, texting away. A quick nudge from Flowey caught his attention, and he looked up at Burgerpants, who watched him with a twitching, forced grin. “Welcome to MTT’s Burger Emporium!” he forced out in phony enthusiasm and excitement. “What can I get for you two?” Flowey looked over at Jerry, giving him a polite smile. “How about you order first, huh?” Jerry just nodded and looked up at the menu. “I would like uhhhhhhh……” He gazed dumbly up at the words displayed on the screen, a small hand placed under his fat chin as he thought of what to order. “Give me… hmm… well…….. can you give me uhhhh….. no…. well, I want a….”

This went on for a good minute before Burgerpants forcefully turned his attention to the flower. “I’ll give him a minute. And what would you like little buddy?”

“I wanna fucking die,” Flowey sighed. The cat monster just sighed and nodded in agreement. “Same.” He pulled out a flask, unscrewing it and takin a quick swig of its contents. “Same.”

So, Flowey ordered a Starfait, deciding to just have something to keep the poor man busy as Jerry continued to stare like a buffoon up at screen. Finally, his date ordered three Glamburgers, and two orders of Fab Fries, telling Burgerpants to leave off he salt because he was watching his weight. He was somehow oblivious to the truck loads of irony. Once their order was served, Jerry got pissy when he realized that his Glamburger had cheese on it, something he had allegedly ordered to leave off because he was lactose intolerant. Burgerpant disputed the fact that he had said this, only making it worse for him. When he tried to tell Jerry that it was all magic food anyways and the cheese wouldn’t even have any affect off his body, he was ordered to make it again. Flowey, all the while, was just sulking by himself.

“That’ll be five-hundred G,” Burgerpants sighed, his expression twisted into one of anguished impatience as he eyed the angry mob of hungry customers behind Jerry. However, he wasn’t getting out that easy.

Flowey took out the needed G and handed it over, watching the cashier subtract the money from the total. He glanced at his date, who blinked and glanced back, not paying for his food. Flowey furrowed the little brow he had. “Well? Aren’t you going to pay?” Jerry gave him an annoyed look. “Pay? I don’t have any money.”

Flowey wilted over and sighed in defeat.

A bit of digging around for G and a bit of convincing Burgerpants was what it took for their tab to be paid off. Flowey was drained of money as they took their food and walked away, ignoring the mob that soon overwhelmed the poor cashier.

That entire transaction had taken thirty minutes.

Ha, just kidding.

It was an hour.

Finally, they were sat down at a table, and Flowey was ready to drink a gallon of weed killer to end it all. Still, all he needed to do was look up at Jerry to find hope rising back up inside him, urging him to not give up and continue forth. Still, he couldn’t help but stare as Jerry was gobbling down his meal, picking up each individual fry and stuffing his mouth with it. And then, after each fry, he would stick out his tongue to slowly lick up each of his stubby fingers to lick off the grease and crumbs, his surprisingly long tongue working between each and every crack and crevice, before he would eat another fry and start the cycle over again. It was so disgusting, and yet so… beautiful.

God, kill him now.

This must be some prank. It had to be. It was a prank from Chara. This was some giant middle finger to him from the grave, as one last “fuck you” just to mess with him.

And it was almost like a blessing.

He mentally slapped himself. No, no it wasn’t.

So just watched Jerry, absolutely disgusted, and yet unable to tear his gaze away in fear it would be disgracing his love.

“You gonna eat that?” Jerry grunted, gesturing to the Starfait. Flowey blinked and looked at it, only having remembered it just now. Well, it did sound pretty tasty…

“You can have it,” he sighed, pushing it over. Damn it, Flowey. Jerry didn’t say anything more as he took the cup and downed it without a second thought, making weird slurping noises and he poured it all down his gullet. After he was done, he smacked his lips noisily and ate the rest of his food. This was what love looks like. This was the perfect monster.

“Alright, so to your place?” Jerry asked, pulling out his phone to type something with his wet, still greasy fingers. “Yeah! Sure thing!” Flowey said, uncharacteristically  enthusiastic, pulling out his phone and calling Sans again. It didn’t take as much prodding as it did last time to get him to come. Once again, Sans sauntered through the doorway and forced himself to grab Jerry’s hand, wincing at how wet his palms felt. Flowey grabbed onto him as well, almost wanting to apologize to him.

In no time, they were at Toriel’s home, where the boss monster lived with Flowey and Frisk. Upon entering, Sans was quick to shake Jerry off and wipe his hand off on his jacket. “Sans? Is that you?” they heard from the kitchen, the smell of freshly baked pie hitting their senses. This seemed to attract Jerry the most, because to Flowey’s horror, the small monster immediately waddled over to the kitchen to grab a slice. Needless to say, Toriel wasn’t expecting to see him come over with a hand out expectantly.  

“Oh, you must be Jerry,” Toriel hummed. “I’ve… heard about you. What are you doing here, dear? Did Flowey bring you here?”  

“What’s that?” Jerry instead asked, pointing to the pie he could just barely see over the high counter. “Oh, er, that’s pie, dear,” she told him politely, folding her hands at her front. “It’s already cooled down and ready to eat. My child, Frisk, and I already had a piece, and I was just about to cut Sans one. Would you like a slice?” She reached for the pie cutter, but she wouldn’t need it. Jerry was way ahead of her.

Sans and Flowey walked in just in time to see Jerry stick his hand into the part of the pie tin that had a slice already removed, sliding his fingers under the crust and removing a large chunk of the dessert. He immediately began gobbling it down bear-handed, once again licking his fingers once he was done. He waddled back over to Sans, who just stared at him with that grin frozen over his face. Toriel didn’t even look like she believed what she had just witnessed.

“Okay… not gonna lie. That was probably the most disgusting think I’ve ever seen,” Sans stated bluntly, watching Jerry skitter over to the pantry to raid it for chips and snack, before going over to the TV with his chips to watch something entertaining with his wet hands all over the remote. Flowey slowly looked up at Sans. “I’ll give you five G to pour a bucket of weed killer onto me,” he offered. “Make it fifty G and you’ve got a deal,” Sans sighed, walking in the other direction. Toriel looked as though she was about to offer him some pie, but stopped when Jerry came back over and carved out another piece with his greasy hands. Flowey really hand no choice but to detach himself from Sans and latch onto Jerry again, forced to hear the monster’s heaving breathing as he shoved potato chips into his mouth and licked his lips of any salt and crumbs. Oh god, how he wanted that tongue to lather against his petals and-

Okay, okay, hold on just a minute.  

Flowey stared wide-eyed straight ahead, bewildered at his own thought. This had to be the work of Chara. No god was evil enough to bestow this curse upon him. It just wasn’t right, even for him. He looked up at the ceiling, wanting to cry and scream at the same time. “Of all people, Chara,” he hissed to himself, feeling tears enter his eyes. “Finally. Finally someone makes me feel something again. And it has to be Jerry?” He closed his eyes, bowing his head. “This is your fault, isn’t it? Even in death you can’t stop playing jokes on me and making life hell. What? Is this payback for back then? Ha. Ha. Very funny. Bet you feel real proud of yourself right now.”

“Yo, can you shut up?” Jerry commented to him. “You’re talking over the show.”

God, why did someone so repulsive have to be so beautiful?

Toriel didn’t bother them again. Flowey sat there in a sort of limbo state, listening to Jerry noisily smack on his chips. Eventually, it grew dark, and Jerry got bored of their channels. He got up, a mess of crumbs and crumpled up chip packages spilling onto the floor. “So, like, this whole date was pretty lame,” Jerry shrugged, yanking Flowey off. “But, you guys got good Wi-Fi and lots of snacks. So, like, how about a second date? Tomorrow?”

No. No. No no no no no, for the love of all things sacred, no. He couldn’t bear another day. He just couldn’t.

“Sure!” he said cheerily. “I’ll pick you up at two?” Mother. Fucker.

Jerry gave a nod. “Sure, whatever. I might be asleep, though, so just wait outside for me until I wake up, okay?” He looked out the window. “Ugh, I don’t wanna take the bus home. Can I sleep over?”

“Yeah, of course you-“ Flowey’s acceptance was cut short as Toriel soon walked up to the two, grabbed  Jerry by the giant lump protruding from his head, and promptly went to the door, throwing him out without hesitation and slamming the door, locking it. Ignoring the pawing she heard at her door, she walked over to her son, gingerly picking him up in her arms. Flowey wasted no time in leaning against her bosom, his eyes wide as he realized what he had just done. He had a second date tomorrow.

He had a second date tomorrow with Jerry.

“Shh… there there,” Toriel whispered to him, listening to her son burst into tears. He knew now there was no hell, as nothing could ever be more wretched than this.

God, why did he have to end up with someone so lovable and amazing?