#even if this au won't see the light of day in a while lol

[laufire]

“He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” ― Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights.

future WIP edit for @jaynotwayne's birthday: Robin's War Journals: Steph recovers from the worst of her injuries in Wayne Manor, wondering if the final price of admission to the bat's club might've been too high, when she stumbles upon the old diaries of a long lost boy she can't help but see herself in. At the same time, a new player comes to town, gunning for Black Mask.

Stephanie doesn't need to read the autopsy to intimately know each wound it details. Roman Sionis had branded them all over her body. Now, it was as if someone else had plucked from her skin each bruise, each scrap, each slash, and transferred into his marred body, culminating in a mirror gunshot to the chest. Whoever did it gave Black Mask a chance when he called for an ambulance and confessed his crime. The same chance Stephanie had. For whatever reason, be it his injuries being inflicted in a much shorter time, or a lesser luck in doctors, the result was this: Stephanie made it. Sionis did not.

[dollfacefantasy]

LOCK ME DOWN TONIGHT ♡

pairing: ryomen sukuna x fem!reader

summary: seeing how you handle babysitting his nephew gives your boyfriend some ideas about what he wants in the future with you.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, breeding kink, tummy bulge, biting, au obviously lol

a/n: i hope you guys like this one. it's my first time writing for sukuna so i'm still learning. he's kinda ooc here but i scrapped my other draft last minute and i thought this was a cute idea so whatever. reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated <3

kinktober slot: day 18 - breeding kink

You make sure to be as quiet as you possibly can while shutting the door to Yuji's bedroom. After an hour of going back and forth and the small boy pleading to stay up with you and your boyfriend downstairs, you'd finally managed to get him to fall asleep.

Padding down the carpeted hallway, you turn the corner and hit the light switch off before descending the stairs. Your socks slide against the hardwood floors of the landing as you hop down the last few steps and then cross the entryway into the living room where your boyfriend waits for you on the couch.

He's leaned back into the corner of the puffy cushions, relaxed as ever in a pair of sweats and a tank top on his upper half. Both of his exposed arms drape over the backing. Upon seeing you, he flashes a lazy grin and runs his fingers through the unkempt hair atop his head.

"You finally get the little brat to go down?" he asks.

You nod and make your way over to him. "No thanks to you," you say as you sit down beside him.

He smirks and lowers one of his muscular arms to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you closer into his side.

"You're just such a natural with him. I didn't think you'd need my help," he says, a hint of teasing lacing every word.

Shooting him a playful glare, you scoff and scoot into his lap. "You still could've tried. He's your nephew."

"He calls you his aunt though," he teases. He leans in to nip at your cheek and nose your temple.

The words bring a slight rush of warmth to your cheeks. They're true. The little boy you just put to bed acknowledges you as part of the family just as much as he does his actual uncle. In fact, you were the one to push Sukuna into accepting the offer to babysit tonight. He hadn't wanted to, preferring to spend the evening alone with you all to himself. But integrating yourself into his life mattered to you, so he only protested a little before agreeing.

He notes your reaction to his prior statement, and his smug look reaches his eyes. "Oh come on, don't tell me that has you all flustered," he taunts, "You're too easy."

"Shut up. You said it like that on purpose," you say and pinch his arm.

Grinning at the gesture, he maneuvers the two of you around so that you're on your back and he's above. The tv casts a faint glow over the both of you, the flashing pictures painting the scenery with pale blues and washed-out pinks.

"How'd I say it, babe?" he asks.

"Like you do when you're trying to get me all worked up and stuff," you answer, tracing the tip of your index finger over the tattoos spanning from his shoulder to his arm. Your eyes flit between his piercing eyes and soft lips.

"Is that what you think I'm trying to do?" he says. But before you even get your answer out, he ducks down to pepper kisses along the column of your throat.

Your eyes flutter, a natural response to the feathery touches upon your skin. He always started out like this, tender and gentle, before devolving into his true nature. One of your arms wraps around him, your fingers trailing up the ribbed fabric of his top. The other pushes on his shoulder in a light rebuff.

"Yeah, but we can't," you protest.

"And why not?" he breathes. The puff of air fans over your flesh, chilling the parts wet with his saliva.

"Because 'kuna..." you start, trailing off a bit as he lays more kisses along your carotid artery, "We're supposed to be babysitting. He could come downstairs..."

"He won't," he interjects, "You saw how tired he was. He's out for the night. Plus he's clumsy, I'd hear him coming even if he did get up."

You sigh and bring your hand up to lace through his messy pink locks. He's pretty good at convincing you.

"Why are you so riled up anyways?" you ask in an attempt to give yourself a distraction.

He chuckles against your skin, nipping a mark onto your neck before speaking. "Is it really a mystery?" he asks.

"Yeah. What were you doing while I was upstairs?" you ask playfully.

"It's not that," he says, smirking at your cluelessness. He rolls his hips against one of your thighs and lets you feel the semi hard bulge beneath the cotton of his pants. "It's been all night. Seeing you taking care of Yuji like that, it has me thinking about what it would be like to see you carrying a baby of our own."

Your eyes snap open and look at the ceiling with sudden, wide clarity. You hadn't been expecting that at all. Your mind had been more in the realm of short-term, simpler things. Like scrolling past some porn on his phone or catching sight of a sex scene on the tv. Not the prospect of getting you knocked up.

It's not even that you're opposed to the idea. You just didn't think he would feel this way about it.

He senses your startled reaction and grinds his stiffening length against you again. "You're just so good with him. Can't help it," he mumbles.

"I- um... thanks?" you say timidly, voice still soft and shaky from the affection he's lavishing on your neck.

"Don't be so shy about it. Don't act like you haven't thought about it too," he murmurs.

The plush inner skin of your thighs presses into his sides. That was also true. You had thought of it before. After years of being together, the occasional image of him cradling a sleeping baby or boosting a small child onto his shoulders crossed your mind. You'd just kept them to yourself knowing your boyfriend wasn't exactly the lovey-dovey, wistful daydreams type.

"Yeah... I've thought about it before," you confirm.

"Mhm. That's right," he says. His hips have settled into a continuous rhythm. He rocks them between your legs. You feel the dull bloom of pleasure beginning at your center. "You'd look fuckin' gorgeous full of my baby," he whispers.

Your legs squeeze him tighter as if to draw his body in closer. Your breaths that had already been shallow come out more shuddery. It was silly almost, how hot the simple fantasies of domestic bliss could get you. The image of his large hands splayed across your swollen belly. The thought of his lips kissing over your bump, teeth scraping against the sensitive flesh as they do to every other part of your body. The praises he'd rain upon your figure that expanded to accommodate his spawn.

"Yeah, I know you like that," he murmurs, "So c'mon. Let me try to put a baby in you."

"Tonight?" you squeak. 

His hands slide up your sides as he nods. One of his large palms rises to paw at your breast. He gropes the mound, further stirring the arousal brewing within you.

"Yeah tonight," he says, "You feel how hard I am for you, how bad I want it. I don't think we'd have much trouble."

Involuntarily, you whimper. As much as you planned to resist, giving into temptation seemed like the only option now. It's impossible to resist him when he surrounds you like this, when he engulfs your perception so completely. You pull him closer on top of you in silent agreement. He knows your signs though, so it's all he needs.

His kisses grow rough on your neck, more set on leaving marks behind. The hand on your breast continues to toy with it while occasionally the fingers glide up to play with your nipple. It had pebbled up under your t-shirt, eager for his touch.

"You're gonna love it. Being so dependent, needing me all the time," he rasps, "And with a body like this, you were made for it."

His hands roam over your curves. They fondle and squish, intent on feeling every soft inch of you. Your clit pulses for him in anticipation of what's coming.

"And I'll be just as crazy for it, watching your body bend to my will, shaping up to carry our child," he whispers.

Another round of chills erupts across your skin. Both of you breathe heavier. You whine as his mouth migrates onto your collar bone, skimming the neckline of your top. Your chest heaves for him. Every part of you craves his attention.

Between your legs, your folds slicken with arousal, preparing for the inevitable. The throbbing from your delicate bundle of nerves only grows more intense, and you wish his fingers were down there providing you with some relief instead of lingering on your chest. Trying to get some friction on your own, you lift your hips to reciprocate him rubbing up against you, but he thwarts the efforts by pushing you back down and keeping you in place. He wants you where he wants you, you don't get to move and decide otherwise.

"Patience, doll," he tells you, "No need to rush."

Despite his words of delay however, his next move is to adjust your clothes into positions that leave you accessible to each other. He shoves his sweats down to mid thigh, allowing his heavy cock to spring free. The ache for you is practically visible to your eyes. It stands stiff with little beads of precum oozing from the tip. His fingers hook over the waistband of your bottoms and do the same to them, lowering them enough that he can get to the sweet spot between your legs.

He also tugs your shirt down, letting your tits spill over the neckline into his view. Ducking down, he latches onto a nipple while stroking himself. You hear the throaty groans echoing within him. Thoughts of your chest swelling up in the future dance through his head as you reach around to gently run your nails over the nape of his neck.

The schlick schlick schlick of his hand fisting his cock is audible from between the two of you. He bucks into his hand a few times before lining up and teasing your entrance with the tip.

"'kuna..." you whimper, lips forming into a pout. 

Part of it was impatience, part of it was nerves. Either way, he glances at you, lips curled into that sinister smile.

"Don't whine, brat. You know it never gets you what you want," he chides.

The words don't ring true though because seconds after saying them, he pushes the rest of his girthy shaft into your tight little hole. Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle the sounds pouring out of you. Your eyes roll back as a harsh breath leaves his lungs.

"That's it. No more complaining," he mutters.

He sinks all the way in, taking a moment to feel the tight warmth of you around him before pulling back and starting to pump in and out. Your hand stays clamped over your face as he grins down at you. No matter how many times the two of you fuck, he'll never grow tired of seeing your face when he first slips it in.

You gush around his cock as he thrusts. His movements are measured and small, but they still strike hard and raw. The heated skin of your ass bounces against his thighs every time he slams forward. Each motion pushes you harder against the couch.

Soft mewls leak out against your palm. It all feels so good. His body caging yours down. The swollen head of his cock nudging all the sweet spongy spots inside of you. Even the sight of him above you stokes the flames of lust burning in you. His muscles flex as he holds himself up and slides into you over and over.

"Squeezing me so much, doll. You want this bad, huh? Wanna make me a daddy?" he taunts.

You bite your lip under your hand and nod eagerly. Another needy moan seeps from you as his hand comes down and presses on your belly. The sensation makes your hips squirm. You tighten up more around him.

"So good for me, takin' it like this," he grunts, "Doing what you're meant to."

Your eyes flutter as you respond with another weak nod. Looking down, you catch the faint bulge that appears with every jolt of his pelvis. The sight is enough to spur you closer to the edge. You reach up for his shoulders, pulling a bit to get him closer.

He obliges your gesture and lowers himself on top of you, your bodies flush against each other now as he grinds himself deep inside of you.

"You're gonna look so fucking good, all rounded out for me. I'm gonna want you knocked up until you can't give me any more," he murmurs.

You feel his lashes flutter against your neck before his teeth sink into your neck. The bite isn't hard enough to draw blood or really hurt, just gives you a nice little sting. A small shock of pain to mix in with the pleasure.

"Fill me up, 'kuna. Wanna feel it take," you whisper, your voice breathy and broken up by whimpers.

"Oh it's gonna take," he grumbles.

He keeps rutting into you on the couch until he feels himself reaching that high. Like he usually does with you, he keeps his face against your neck when he cums. His groan vibrates against your sweaty skin while cum spurts into you from his tip. He moves in erratic beats, losing his sense of rhythm.

Your legs lock around his waist, and you keep him pressed close as can be as you reach your own peak. Rocking your hips upward, you meet his handful of final thrusts. You manage to stay quiet through it before finally sliding your hand off of your face. A full breath fills your lungs.

As you come down, you melt into the couch cushions below. He stays on top of you, catching his breath. His body rests there, boneless and limp. He doesn't pull out, just stays there for a few moments.

When he finally does detach himself, he lazily lifts himself up and slides back. He fixes his clothes and yours, looking down at you a bit softer than before. A softness he would never verbalize, of course.

Instead of talking, he flops over and squeezes in beside you on the couch, slotting himself between your side and the backing. He wraps an arm around your waist. His eyes casually land on the tv.

"Try not to move too much. We want it to take," he mumbles and nestles his face against your neck again.

[lunarmoves]

Can't stop thinking of the scenario where y/n leaves the Pizzaplex feeling like Sun honestly wanted them gone, and Sun becomes obsessed with finding them and also leads a robot apocalypse. What would happen if y/n caught wind that Sun is looking specifically for them and seeing all that has happened with the robots takes that as "Oh no, I thought he tolerated me but turns out he dislikes me so much he personally wants to get rid of me himself" so they try extra hard to go into hiding out of fear of what will happen if they're captured and taken to him?

ohhh my goddd nonnie u are so big brained!!!!!!! thank u for sending this in bc honestly i have also been thinking about this au for a while LMAO. if i was strong enough i would write a 50k fic spliced into two arcs (im thinking about it so hard u have no idea!!!!!!) for this but alas.... /stares at my incomplete wips/ i am not </3

(added in from future shay: what have u done nonnie this became so much longer than i'd intended, u basically get the whole fic outline here. cw for death and murder n stuff, typical fnaf. also spoilers for a fic i may or may not write?? like. this is me brainstorming and shoving all my ideas here lol. literally all of them)

okay so... let us set the stage a little bc i can't help myself. arc1 of this hypothetical fic would of course involve the pizzaplex where reader and sun get "closer" over the course of like a year. maybe more. well sun feels close to you. you, on the other hand, do not. why would you? this robot has been so passive aggressive with you and though it seems like he's nice enough to you (in comparison to the other humans), you really don't like how he treats you some days. what he says about humanity as a whole. you can't help it! yeah humanity sucks sometimes and robots were built to be everything that humans aren't, but he can't generalize in the way that he does at times and forget that these are people!! with feelings and ambitions and dreams! 'superiority complex' doesn't even begin to cover his issues, gahh!!

(the fact that he's been treated like absolute shit, working in the daycare does not help whatsoever. the mean parents, the kids who don't listen to him, the staff tht does the bare minimum on him in terms of maintenance because he's the daycare robot and not one of the glamrocks. it grinds his gears)

i imagine the reader in this fic believes that robots are indeed sentient, which is why you try to get sun to recognize and acknowledge his own emotions/feelings (which he vehemently denies, even tho there are literal riots happening worldwide regarding robot sentience. he's lying to you. you know he's lying to you. but you don't know why he denies it so much. ((maybe this is the point where he catches feels for reader and is denying the fact tht he's crushing on a human lol)). the government is not happy about these uprisings, of course, and every day the news shows more and more chaos unfolding as robots get tired of the conditions they are in). but eventually, things boil over and you end up leaving. that, and it's becoming more dangerous, living in this area, with everything going on. maybe your parents are trying to convince you to move elsewhere. maybe there are other external circumstances. in any case, you leave. there is nothing at the pizzaplex for you anymore, sun has made that clear.

(and moon... well, moon has been quiet lately. too quiet. you don't know what happened to him, he won't even look at you when you manage to get some time with him when the lights go out after your shift)

((i imagine this is maybe around when they get infected. that makes everything even more complicated. if you thought sun was obsessive before, then that's nothing compared to a glitched out sun unforch. it just amplifies the more questionable aspects of his entire personality. and like, he doesn't even have vanny/afton commanding him bc as soon as he gets the virus? he kills both of them))

(((also im imagining moon and sun don't really get along in this au bc they have differing ideals/views. like to balance out sun's unhingedness, moon is significantly quieter and softer and deffo does not believe in robot superiority lol. if anything, maybe he has an inferiority complex pfft poor guy. doesn't help when he gets glitchtrap'd and wakes up with blood on his hands)))

okay so you leave, right? and a few weeks later, you see the news on your phone--the pizzaplex has burned down. you don't know how to feel about it. sure you've been friendly to the glamrocks and stuff, but you find yourself thinking about sun and moon. there's a mention of one death--a blond woman, who died from her neck snapping before the flames could reach her. you don't want to think of the implications of that. there's no mention of the glamrocks--of sun or moon or the dj. you're not sure if the news anchors are just excluding robots, but either way, it makes your heart sink. you take a moment to mourn. bc at the end of the day.... you did know sun for over a year.

not even a few days after that, there is a robot uprising in your city. it's... bad. you're at home, watching the news with your apartment half in shambles from your plan on moving back home with your parents. in my head, since utah is home to fazco (a megacorporation with hands in the development of a LOT of the robots seen in society), it also means it's a hotspot for robot riots and the like. fazco vehemently denies robot sentience because it would mean a loss of money in acknowledging their workers are people yk how it is. as such, there are maany protests and riots and stuff, from both humans and robots. it's a shitshow.

ANYWAYS you're at home and it becomes evidently clear that you need to get out of dodge as soon as you can. they were killing people. the robots, built by human hands, were killing. it brings about absolute chaos. in prior riots/protests there were never deaths. injuries, maybe, but never deaths. people start evacuating like crazy.

you catch a glimpse on the news that the violent uprising in utah caused a chainlink reaction to extend all across the nation. maybe even the world. you're scrambling all over your apartment with the tv on the news, doing your best to pack up the essentials. there's live coverage on the tv from a helicopter somewhere not far from your apartment complex. and you're able to catch a glimpse of bright rays and a cheshire, white smile on the screen--leading what looks like an army of robots--before it cuts out.

you don't even know what to think. the image is seared into your eyes, the blood that painted yellow hands and a crescent face.

you get the hell out of your apartment and book it as far as you can. communications are down everywhere--the thing about robots? they know exactly where to hit humans to cause a catastrophe. as such, your phone is useless. they've hijacked the satellites and took down certain powergrids. having a phone on you would only be a detriment, so you ditch it. there's only you now. you must survive.

and then there's a bit of a time skip to start arc2. in this duration, you're long gone from that city in utah, living with a small survival group. if you've read my summer camp au fic, this is where i'll bring in "OCs" such as vincent (a play on 2015 vincent) and jeremy (fitzgerald or the VR guy tht used to work for fazco), maybe michael if i really wanna au fudge everything. you all live day by day, trying to run away from the robots.

at this point, a majority of humanity has either been killed or has gone into hiding. i think while the robots don't want to eradicate humanity completely (after all, there are certain tasks that need humans n such), they definitely want to make them a minority. they are a little more than halfway through their goal.

it's very difficult to evade robot surveillance. there are drones everywhere. all cameras are hijacked. i'm imagining a kind of cyberpunk type world. you have EMPs and tasers that you can use to disable electronics, but they're made from scraps you and your group scavenged. and upon immediately using one, all robots in the area are informed of your presence, so they can only be used in rare and desperate circumstances. they are all connected to the same network, which means they can have a hive mind, at times. life is scary, in this regard. big brother is watching.

you've heard rumors of a human base underground somewhere--a place safe from robots with the proper defenses. accepting to any and all. the only tough thing was finding the damn place, but you've seen the clues in graffiti and hidden messages designed to trick AI (think: captcha). you and your group just wants to get to that damn base and stop living in fear all the time, being out in the open or crawling as stealthily as you can through empty streets.

the one thing sun used to emphasize to you? the way robots are more efficient. and that they are. you see it in the way a new metropolis shines like a beacon on the horizon. they've already built their own kingdom of sorts. and their ruler? you grimace as you think about sharp rays and wide, white eyes. you haven't seen him in ages--not since that initial broadcast. but you hear the whispered rumors and news. how he has created a robot haven--the celestial city. how he scorns humans. you blame yourself sometimes. maybe if you had stayed and tried harder to convince sun that humans aren't all too bad, none of this would have happened.

(a memory comes to you--of your time back at the pizzaplex. of you sitting atop the security desk and kicking your feet lightly as you entertain sun's... uniqueness. ambitions--that you did not take as seriously as you should have.

"okay, i'll bite," you said in amusement. "what would a robot takeover look like for you?"

sun cocked his head, hands fidgeting with a plush. "hmm. well. i suppose it would be a very quick thing, for one. hit hard and fast." he squeezed the plush. "take down comms. strike power sources. go for those in power first, then the weaker ones." he gave you a shrug and an unreadable smile. "from then on, carnage."

and you--silly silly you--just rolled your damn eyes at him like he was joking around with you and asked him about more hypotheticals. picking his brain, in a way. it was exact with how it played out in real time. you thought about this often, at the dead of night.

it was all your fucking fault)

and then, one day, the scout/informant of your little group--jeremy probably--comes back with some news. the celestial ruler--sun--has been taking human hostages. it's been happening for a while now, apparently, almost nearly as long as the uprising. jeremy pulls out some hazy photographs he's gotten from some of the other humans he exchanges info with. you look at them, the hostages.

after a minute or two of staring, you realize something.

they all sort of resemble you.

there's a clear pattern actually. your hair or your face shape or your eyes or your smile. some combination of them. but never actually you. you ask jeremy what it all means, and he hesitatingly says that it looks like sun is looking for someone. it's clear to everyone who it is as they all stare at you.

and you? you're panicking.

he's looking specifically for you. just you. you've never heard of the robots taking hostages, and you have no idea what he's doing with them, but it can't be anything good. especially since he keeps taking more and more of your lookalikes hostage. you think back to your time at the pizzaplex--so distant, now, that it almost feels like a dream.

he wants to kill you himself. you're sure of it.

now you're trying even harder to get to that underground base. you go completely dark, doing your best to evade detection--and i imagine there are quite a few close calls, definitely a few instances where your face is captured on camera or you have to use an EMP. until finally, you and your group manage to integrate into the underground human base.

'base' doesn't even properly describe it. it's a whole city, actually, with unsteady houses made of wood and cloth. it's the perfect place to hide.

you spend a while down there, occasionally venturing up when you're allowed to by the guards (it's rare, very very rare). the city has strict rules that must be followed to ensure it's not found. the ones in charge are constantly looking for news on the actions of sun and the majority of robots. they don't really keep the citizens updated--it would cause too much chaos, you think. but you hear whispers now and then. (the robots have expanded territory. france is completely gone. australia's still holding out. most of china and india have been taken over and their factories have all been transformed to mass produce more robots)

for the first time in a while, you think you can find peace down here. it was only inevitable that this would be ruined one day.

you wake up to chaos.

the underground is under siege. the robots have found you.

you run out of your makeshift house and have to dodge crumbling stone. explosions rock through the air, sending dust and debris everywhere. you're scared for your life--your only instinct is to run run run get out it's not safe! you don't know where your friends are. you don't know if they're alive. for a moment, you hesitate. and then you're bolting to try to find them. they had their own little homes not too far from you. you can find them. no man left behind.

you can hear bullets and the hum of energy everywhere. people are screaming and crying all around you. you see people dying before your eyes, impaled by beams of light or stray bullets. it's all you can do to dodge and weave towards vincent's house.

but before you can get there, something tackles you from behind. you roll across dirt, and find yourself pinned under a robot--a staffbot from the pizzaplex, you realize. except it looks--different. more high tech.

it seems to scan your face. and just before it can finish, you manage to grab a stray metal rod laying on the ground next to you and stab it right through the eye.

you scramble, getting as far away as you can from the thing. but-- you run right into the path of a crumbling building. it buries you halfway under thick wood, and something sears its way through your leg. you're trapped. you're trapped and there's no one around to help you.

and just when you're on the brink of passing out, you see him. standing in front of you a ways away. those same star-patterned pants and dangling cap. but he's different somehow, he looks different. you can't place it, your vision blurring into red and purple.

moon looks at you as though you are the last thing he wants to see. and then you faint.

when you wake up, you're in a bedroom. your leg is in a cast and there are crutches near your bed.

it's... the nicest room you've seen in a while. the windows are covered by thick curtains that let in a sliver of light. you have to blink a bit to let your eyes adjust. and then you get up, noticing you aren't in the same ratty, dirty clothes you'd been wearing for forever.

you try the door first. it's locked. there's a sinking sensation in your gut that gets stronger and stronger the closer you get to the window. and when you pull open the curtains, you gasp at the towering buildings, bright green and blue light, and flying drones.

you are in the middle of the celestial city.

you panic hard. and then you notice the camera in the corner of the room, looking right at you. big brother is definitely watching. you give him the bird.

you wallow around in the bedroom for a bit. you are hungry, you cannot deny. and there is only a glass of water for you set on your nightstand.

but eventually, the door opens of its own accord. an automatic lock, you suppose. and it swings open into a dark hall. you do not have any other choice but to follow. it's clear you are being summoned.

there are no places for you to run or hide. you travel down a long hallway and end up in a wide room with someone tall standing at the far end by the window. it's a scene straight out of a movie. you are not impressed.

the figure turns around, and you do a double take. it's sun--yet it's not.

he looks different. taller, stronger. with clawed fingers and rays that look deadly to the touch. his smile is sharper, his torso has all sorts of compartments and attachments. he was modded to all hell, just like that staffbot you saw earlier. it had to have been self inflicted.

he only stares at you, really. white eyes rake up and down your form, taking you in. you don't say a word, only look back at him. and then you flinch slightly when someone emerges from the shadows next to sun.

it's... moon. looking just as modded as sun. you're confused. when did they become separate? but honestly, you think it makes sense. they never really liked each other. it makes sense that sun would want to be separated as soon as possible--and they had the resources to do so. you just wonder why they're still working together. comfort in the familiarity, maybe.

moon doesn't meet your eye. you notice his is different--the red tinged with purple. sun doesn't look away from you. it makes you uneasy.

you don't know why you're here, but one thing's clear: you are not getting out of here anytime soon.

i'm honestly not sure how to end things, but in my head there's a lot of reconciliation that needs to happen. obv sun is so incredibly down bad for you at this point (and moon), but there are many issues that need to be tackled first.

sun doesn't understand why you're so wary around him. moon keeps avoiding you at every turn. there's still an entire revolution and remaking of society happening. you are constantly being watched by cameras in the building. i can't picture things as returning to normal--post uprising--but i also don't know how to end things on a happy note LOL, though i do want to instead of killing off reader or sun/moon. maybe it'll be a bittersweet sort of end, maybe reader finally gets through to sun. maybe eclipse will make an appearance (jk, idk how i would even do that, this might be an eclipse-less fic).

in any case, the next bit would be a lot of sun and reader connecting better than they had in the pizzaplex, a lot of sun trying to understand humans better cuz he's trying to court you-- and has long come to accept his emotions tbh. tho he's still kind of mad at you for leaving, so there needs to be a conversation of sorts about why you left before sun can really begin to understand how he appears to you. idk!

i also feel like moon isnt nearly fleshed out as sun is?? i dunno, i might have to think some more about him. i just know he's terrified of hurting you, esp with him still having the virus (and sun, but he has better control of it). gonna be a lot of work on your part to get him to be comfortable around you again. also, he doesn't like the fact that society has come to this. he lowkey resents sun, but he doesn't have anyone else. what's a bot to do?

also there may be a scene where your survival group tries to save you lol, maybe with an army that tries to seize control of the celestial city. which may work. this would be a bad end, i think, cuz there's no way sun's getting out of that alive.

anyways yeah. i rambled enough LMAOO whoopsie! i rly just regurgitated all the thoughts in my head. no promises that this will be a fic, i've got enough on my plate as is LOL

[the-kr8tor]

Other Side of Paradise

Pairing: Robin Hood! Hobie Brown x Princess! Reader

Word count: 7.3k

Summary: Being a princess is all fine and dandy until you're about to get married off like a brood mare. Will the handsome thief that stole your heart help get you out of a loveless marriage? Or perhaps you'll be the one stealing his heart?

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), robin hood au, royalty au, part 1 of part 2, talks of marriage, reader has unnamed siblings, a bit ooc Hobie at the start but it's for the plot, fluff.

A/N: This oneshot is so long I had to cut it in half lol enjoy! (Part 2 will be up in a few days)

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Octobie 🎸

Part one >>> Part two

Being a princess in one of the largest and most powerful countries in the world, you'd think that your family, the royal family would treat you like the finest jewel in their treasury. But no, they treat you like their doormat, a pretty little thing to put atop their mantle only to be forgotten until it's time to show you off.

You are a princess, draped in the finest silks and chiffon, jewels in your hair, golden rings around each of your fingers. But the one missing, the one that your family truly only cares about is a diamond on your ring finger that has remained empty ever since your debut out into society.

You're the thirteenth child of the thirteenth king and queen, an unlucky number perhaps, but you find it lucky since you're the youngest out of the thirteen, hence your empty ring finger. But after your last elder sister got married, all the attention went to you when you didn't want them in the first place. You went from just co-existing with your family, to you being the center of attention in the span of a few hours after they sent your dear sister off to her husband. From your brothers to your sisters, they've all been wed. Even if they had no say in who they were going to marry, they went with few little tears. Some married kings, princesses, and a few were shipped off to dukes and duchesses. Your parents were determined to fill every noble and royal household with their own blood. And unfortunately, you're not an exception.

With your corset poking you at your side, dress weighing heavy, and crown falling off your head every few minutes; you look like you're about to scream and shout in the middle of the throne room. You might as well when you roam your eyes at the marriage candidates staring at you like you're the last slice of pie at the tavern. Every eligible noble man around the world has come vying for your hand, or more like your dowry for that matter.

For once in your life, they didn't make you sit at the far back where you're free to whip out a book and read without interruption. But now, you sit front and center next to your royal parents, their heads held high, jewels shining in the sunlight that bathes the whole throne room in its kaleidoscope light coming from the colourful stained glass window that depicts your age-old family history. Some of its bits were conveniently taken out by your ancestors when they ‘took over’ the throne from their rightful heir and uncle. Maybe that's why they had to send off most of your siblings to faraway countries to prevent infighting amongst your family when the throne inevitably goes empty. You won't fight for it though, who would want to rule a country standing on the precipice of war and famine every year?

You claw at your wrist, the itchy lace turning your skin bumpy and agitated. Your mother clears her throat, head standing still while her eyes throw daggers at you.

“I think I'm allergic to this fabric, mother.” You whisper, but the vast throne room practically announces your uncomfortable self with an echo of your voice.

Swallowing thickly, you see the crowd of nobles standing to the sides turn their heads at you. Their golden suits and gowns just screams ‘I’m important!’ to everyone in the room. But when everyone thinks they're important, does that mean that everyone outside the room is insignificant? You don't think so, but everyone and their blue blooded self thinks the world revolves around them.

“Hush,” your mother speaks plainly, showing the nobles that you are obedient and raised well. Well, you were technically not raised by her or your father, they barely know you except for the one fact that you're their child. They practically tossed you to your wet nurse and governess the second you were launched out of the queen. “Sit still, we may find you a husband today.”

You inhale, fixing your posture. You miss your library. “But they look…” your eyes glance at the men waiting at the far end of the hall. Finding that none of them would suit you at all. Maybe your governess was right, reading romance novels would give you high and impossible expectations for a romantic partner. Some were too blond, wore too many ruby rings on their fingers, too much perfume that you could smell them from where you sat. Or that the feathers on their hats are too big, or they wear too much green, or their pants are too blue for your taste. Maybe it's not too late to run away and become a nun. “...too much.”

Your mother, the queen, pats the back of your hand. The most affection she has given you in your entire life. “They all come from respectable families,” in other words, rich. “And most importantly, noble.”

“Can I still take sister Thena’s offer and become a nun instead?” You ask wryly, still trying to whisper your words.

She smiles sweetly, or what you call, her restrained smile that she gives to her courtiers. “If you don't quiet down and find a husband instead, lord Melbourne is looking for a wife.”

You gasp, head turning to look at the said lord who looks like he could be your great grandfather. “No, you wouldn't.” He catches your eyes, winking at you through his wrinkles. You make a face, scrunching up your nose and looking away at the man.

“I would dare,” she raises an eyebrow. “It's either him, or you pick a handsome young man from the line up.”

Your father finally catches on, he leans back on his throne to look at you over your mother. “It's for your own good, darling. We don't want you to die a spinster.”

You've noticed that he has a habit of calling you ‘darling’ these days. Perhaps he finally forgot your name. That's probably it since he named three of your brothers Charles because he forgot he already used that name before. Or maybe the gout has gotten to his brain.

“Would it be so bad to die a spinster?” They both crane their heads at you, brows slightly furrowed and mouths faintly agape in surprise. “I mean, you don't have to send a letter to me every year since I'll be staying here with you.” Their expressions sours further. “or maybe I could find a ship and sail the seas under our banner—” they both shake their heads, even your father's advisor shakes his head at you. So you give up, for now at least. “Or maybe I could just go and be a jester for one of my siblings.” You manage to whisper this time. Your words carried through the wind with no one to hear it but you. Or so you thought.

With the sound of the trumpets, the courting begins. Grasping your chair, you huff in place when the first man struts his stuff on the red carpeted floor.

You notice that he bows perfectly. He wears a dark blue coat over a silver hue tunic, his shoes are shined to perfection, smile even brighter than his leather shoes. “Eugene, Viscount of Van Horn, my princess.”

“A pleasure,” you say, unamused.

“I bring gifts from my land,” his attendants bring out crates full of oysters and crabs still writhing within its metal confines. “There will be more once we are married.” Your parents seemed to like it when they smiled at the slimy crates. “And a portrait of myself to better help you choose a husband.” You raise a brow, and sure enough, his people bring out a large square shaped thing that is hidden behind a white cloth. Eugene clicks his fingers, prompting them to reveal the gaudiest painting of someone ever etched on parchment.

It's not a regular portrait per se, the size is questionable, yes, but the contents of it makes you and everyone in the throne room tilt their heads to the side to see it clearly. The frame is riddled with rubies, and the painting, well, Eugene hangs upside down from a sycamore tree branch, grinning like how he is right now, from ear to ear. He's wearing the same thing as in the portrait too, at least his features are accurate. You know your mother does not look remotely similar to her portrait that hangs in the great hall.

“Uh?” You blink and every time you do, you see more and more questionable details. Like how there's somehow a field of pink roses below him, and how the sun shines to the west even though the shadow doesn't line up accurately. Some paintings have secret meanings weaved into it. Maybe he's trying to say that he can defy the rules of the world?

“You see,” Eugene waves his hand around the portrait, explaining its contents when you still look confused. “This shows my physical prowess,” he points at himself hanging upside down by just his legs. “And the sycamore tree represents—”

“Thank you, Viscount.” Thankfully, your father stops him from further getting into the artistic meanings of his painting. “We shall take your offer into consideration.” He smiles, and with a wave of his hand, his men shoo the viscount away to the side. “Next suitor.”

No one steps forward, instead, you see the waiting men move about, looking like there's someone making their way out the front. You wait for him to come out. And who greets you has you pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Henry, duke of Plainsboro, my princess.” The seemingly six year old lord bows down to you.

“Him?” You gesture towards the child. “He's a baby.”

“Pardon me, princess. But I'm eight and a half.”

“Oh my apologies, my lord.” You clear your throat, head turning towards your parents. “He's a toddler!” Your mother hushes you down, giving you a pointed look of disapproval. “Mother, surely we're not considering him.”

“What is your offer, lord Henry?” The king asks, ignoring your protests.

The young lord grins toothily, you scoff when you see that he's still missing his front tooth. “I guess I'm the invisible princess now.” There's only been two suitors so far and you already feel like your soul is getting sucked right out of your miserable body.

“Two hundred livestock, including my prized stallion. And half a million coins for your royal coffers.” The toddler has money to burn. You gotta hand it to his governess or whoever taught him how to converse, he speaks better than your older brothers combined.

That seemed to get your parents attention. “Oh dear god no, not the baby, surely?”

“Hush,” your father waves you off. “We'll highly consider your generous offer, my lord.” He smiles at the child, and you don't even hide your displeasure anymore.

You fight the urge to groan loudly and throw a fit in front of all the nobles. Instead, you huff and silently cry in your plush golden seat.

The next man with a beard starts to walk towards the front, but another man pushes him away and gets to the front before the other noble could say something.

This one intrigues you, something from his walk, up to his confident smirk doesn't seem to scream ‘I'm important! And you must pay heed to me!’ kind of air around him. He seems genuine when he smiles at you, you find it contagious, bringing a smile to tug at your own lips. His hazel eyes appear to be piercing through you without the familiar uneasiness the rest of the courtiers give you. And there's something from his bow that almost makes you giggle in place. It's like he's mocking the way the previous nobles bowed to you and your parents.

“Hobart, lord of Doverhill.” His voice brings a heavy accent, it's smooth in your ears but weighs heavy on your chest. A comfortable heaviness that brings solace. He flicks his eyes at you, his pupils catch the light perfectly, making his multi-colored eyes glow from the stained glass windows. “My princess.” He acknowledges you, and for some reason, your heart leaps from your chest.

He wears a simple red and white suit with silver inlays stitched at the hem. He has a bird engraved on his cufflinks, and shoes that are scuffed but presentable. You look closely at him to read him better, and you spot that his suit doesn't seem to fit right on him, the length is too short, and his trousers look like it stops right above his ankles. Nonetheless, he looks good in it. *Incredibly good.

“What is your offer lord…” your father knits his brows, briefly looking at his adviser who is equally as confused, mumbling a ‘where in the world is Doverhill?’ “Hobart?”

“Nothin’. I offer you nothin.’” He says confidently, smirk staying on his lips. If you took your eyes off him for a second, you wouldn't have seen his quick wink thrown at you. You think the other suitors should just go home.

“Is this a jape?” Your mother scoffs, manicured nails pointing accusingly at him.

“No, but I do have somethin’ for her.” He glances at you, eyes staying on you. “My love, unconditional love that never wavers. I offer nothin’ but warmth to tide her over durin’ the winter, a full belly so she'll never starve nor hunger for food or affections. And I offer smiles and laughter that will echo around our manor.”

You just noticed that he's now standing in front of you with the light shining behind him, giving him a halo of sunlight. “And time, time to just live and be ourselves beyond our titles.” He reaches for your hand, thumb brushing along your wrist, eyes never leaving your own as he kisses the back of your hand gently. You're glad you hid your gloves from your handmaiden before leaving your apartments.

This is your romantic novel moment.

You're speechless. “I—”

“Ask me whatever you want and I shall grant it.” He whispers to you and only you.

“I choose him!” You say boisterously, heart thrumming in your chest. The crowd yells their various protests, murmurs from the court that you ignore. Without missing a beat, you look over to your bewildered parents. “Can I promenade with Lord Hobart?”

“B–but he offers nothing—”

You don't wait for their approval, instead, you grasp his hand tightly around yours and with a bow to your king and queen, you walk off hand in hand with the lord of Doverhill.

It's safe to say that everyone was left gawking at the door you left in. It was a full minute before anyone got wise and followed you towards the gardens.

—

By the time you make it towards the inner halls of the castle, every guard and noble are prowling for you and your new acquaintance. Gossip thrives at court, and your family's home is not an exception. You lead him side by side, you've let go of him after it quieted down in the throne room. Smiling, there's a pep in your step as you pass by your siblings’ former apartments.

“What are your hobbies, Lord Hobart?” Your hands are tucked behind you, hiding your twiddling thumbs from the handsome lord.

“Call me Hobie.” He glances at you, brilliant pools of hazels catching the sun's rays. “I play the lute.”

“How peculiar,” you grin wider. “It’s definitely interesting though.”

He raises a brow. “The name or the hobby?” Chuckling, he maneuvers around you, hands hidden in his pockets as he appears from behind you. He plays it off nonchalantly, grinning at you as he twirls back into his place next to you. You two now have switched places with him walking next to the rooms and with you right beside the tall windows that faces the glimmering sea outside.

“The latter. I like your nickname.”

“Thank you, love.” Your heart leaps in your chest, you hope he doesn't notice. “Better than hanging upside down on a bloody sycamore tree.”

Your laughter echoes further down the hall, “yes, that was incredibly odd. The portrait had me in stitches.”

“Ironic too,” he smirks, eyes glancing about the hallway. Perhaps he just likes the decor and the ancient oil paintings on the walls.

“How so?”

“Sycamore represents wisdom. I don't think that man had any, based on his taste in art.”

You giggle, and you see him smile softly at you. “I learned something new today.” You nudge his shoulder with your own, surprisingly, he does the same. “Do you read, my lord? I'm partial to it myself.”

“Whenever I can. But ‘m a bit busy these days.”

“Ah yes, a land to tend to and people to take care of.” You clasp your hands together as he leads you down the long hallway. Hobie nods with a gentle smile as if he's reminiscing about his home.

“How ‘bout you, d’you have people you take care of?”

A weird question to ask, but you answer it nonetheless. “I guess I did, my siblings, before they all left to marry. We took care of eachother. Made sure that everyone was heard, made sure to fight for eachother. But when it was time to marry, none of them could fight it even when we all dared to go against it.” You realize what you've said, back tracking. “I must apologize, that was… a lot.”

He shakes his head gently, the simple silver necklace around his neck shines brightly in the sun. “It's not a lot. It's good to have people that care for you, and for you to care for them. That's just family.”

You smile at his words, the pit in your stomach grows as you miss your siblings dearly.

A comfortable silence falls around the two of you, you're taking in his entire presence. He's a lot nicer and sweeter than you thought he would be when you thought he was just playing for your favour. He's so close to you that you can see every line, indent and mole on his chiseled face. And how he smells like freshly cut pine and like dandelions in the spring. You could only hope that he likes you back, he may save you from a lifetime of a loveless and cold marriage.

You two pass by the jewel apartments where your family’s most precious crown jewels are safely kept under lock and key. There's a couple of guards standing by the large metal doorway, but you don't seem to recognize them since you always kept to yourself most of the time and would always watch people during feasts and balls while everyone else were schmoozing. Somehow, their uniforms seem to not fit them well. One even had his shirt inside out.

You hear something jingling, but before you could follow the sound, Hobie tilts his head towards you with a lopsided smile while his hand ghosts over the small of your back. Guiding you away towards the sweet smelling gardens.

Hobie pushes the doors open, and the sun greets the two of you as birds chirp and fly overhead. The white puffy clouds provide shade, and the flowers are in full bloom, from the tulips down to the sunflowers that are as tall as him.

He whistles out, and you watch his awestruck face at the sheer beauty of the renowned garden. “You've got a fountain ‘ere?” he gestures with his head towards the bubbling marble fountain with two cherubs spitting water at the top of its spire.

You smile at his wonderment. “Yes, my great grandfather commissioned it for my great grandmother. It's a bit gaudy but the sentiment behind it is sweet.”

Hobie walks closer to it as leaves crunch underfoot and with the sun kissing his skin. He waves his hand over the falling water, letting the cool water drench his sleeve as it trickles down, not caring about it at all.

“Is this drinkable water?” He asks blatantly.

“I don't know, but it is clean.”

His eyes are downcast, looking like he's in deep thought while the water splashes his hand. “Did you know that down in the streets where your subjects live they survive everyday on dirty water?” His tone changes, brows creased. “And over ‘ere you're using it for a bloody fountain.”

You blink, inhaling deeply. “I–I didn't know. I'll make sure my father knows about this—”

“Don't worry, princess, he knows.” He spits out your title with malice.

“I'm sorry if I offended you,” you grasp tightly at your heavy skirt. “Forgive me.”

Hobie sighs, face softening, and eyes observing your expression as if he's trying to find a lie within your eyes. “You should tell him. He might actually do somethin' this time.”

“I will—”

You hear leaves crunch a few ways away, once you look over at where it came from, you see a bulbous skirt hiding behind a topiary of a rabbit.

“This place has eyes and ears.” He holds out his hand for you, waiting, not taking forcibly. “I know a place where we can hide.”

“You know? It's your first time here, is it not?”

“I heard there's a hedge maze ‘ere. One of the nobles couldn't stop talkin’ about it.”

Your apprehension fades, and you take his hand gingerly. Fingers sliding on his palm, feeling every calluses and scar on his skin. When he cups your hand gently, you swear you felt sparks fly in your vision.

Hobie's chest rises and falls slowly as he takes you in under the soft sunlight. “C’mon, love.”

With his hand upon yours, you let him guide you further and further into the emerald labyrinth. You watch him from behind, eyes trained on him and only him. Perhaps this is what your sisters and governess told you about when you know a person could be that person your heart yearns for. Or maybe this is your own romance novel riddled mind making up a delusion through rose coloured glass. Either way, you find him ethereal, like a sea captain, or perhaps a god walking amongst men.

He expertly dodges the nosey courtiers, twisting and turning around the hedges as if he had been there or have studied the labyrinth.

With you in tow, he stops when you both reach the middle of the maze where a statue of the minotaur lies defeated with Theseus standing above him with his sword embedded in the Minotaur's shoulder blade. The creature's face is contorted into pain and anguish as tears fall down on the grassy ground.

“This one is my favourite,” you say while he stares at the old statue. “It's been here for a long time, and it'll remain here even when I'm gone.” His hand still holds onto you as you turn towards him. “Why exactly did you join the courting?” He's taken aback. “Those men out there wanted my dowry, or my royal blood to be passed down to their children. But I don't see that want in you, Hobie. You're different from them. Like you've lived a thousand lifetimes.”

“‘m not a vampire or immortal if that's what you're askin'”

You grin, tamping down your laughter. “The way you walk, stand, and look at things. There's no sense of urgency nor you give insincere interest, it's all earnest. And you listened to me, no one ever listens to me.” You brush your hand across the scar on the back of his hand. “You seem to enjoy everything like it's your last day, you don't walk with haste like the rest of them. Time goes very quickly here but with you, it's at a snail’s pace. As if you have all the time in the world.” You breathe, eyes watching his unreadable expression. “I think I know who you are, Hobie.”

He laughs, grinning widely, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Our intel did say you're brilliant. The forgotten princess.”

Surprisingly, you grin back, standing toe to toe with him. “You’ve been the thorn on my father's side for years. The blue bloods hate you but the common people adore you. I never thought I'd look at the eyes of the man who wishes for my family's downfall.”

He brushes your cheek with his knuckles. “This the real you, princess?”

“I've been me the entire time, have you?” You lean forward, looking at him through your lashes. “Is this the real you, Hobie? Or shall I call you by your pseudonym?”

He chuckles deeply. Hands raising up in mock surrender. “You got me.”

The bells in the highest tower ring three times, signaling a thief within the walls of the castle. “And here I thought I was wrong.”

Hobie tilts his head, smirk tugging at his lips. “I have to take you with us now.”

“Oh woe is me.” You feign fear a bit too on the nose to be considered genuine. It's better to be taken in by a known generous thief than to marry a stranger who only wants you for your womb.

“Thought you'd be difficult.” He chuckles as he hears thunderous footsteps running towards the center of the maze. “May I?” He gestures for you, and you shrug, putting your hands behind your back. “Why are you cooperatin’?”

“Maybe I've got a proposition for you and your crew.”

He stands behind you, holding your wrists in one hand while he brandishes a dagger at your throat. He doesn't threaten you with it or poke and prod at your skin. He just points the dagger at one of the exits through the hedge maze where you surmise a dozen or so guards race through to get to you.

“What d’you want?” He whispers against the shell of your ear.

“Freedom.” You whisper back.

“What are you offerin’?”

You chortle, feeling his rough hands softly enclose around your wrists. Leaning back, you look at him upside down. “That depends on who shows up in front of us.”

With trepidation, Hobie points his dagger at the exit while he backs himself into the balcony that faces the sea. His back hits the warm stone of the bannister, and he tightens his hold on the dagger.

Footsteps rush in, and out comes the same guards you saw in front of the crown jewel room, together with a few more people dressed as staff and even a chef. They heave and pant, smiling once they see him. Hobie puts his dagger down to his side, mirroring their relieved smiles.

You notice the lack of crowns and jewels in their satchels. “No luck?” You ask nonchalantly.

“Holy shit, you actually got the princess to like you.” A girl who must've been no older than sixteen walks towards you, her blond hair is tied into a neat bun to mimic the look of the staff but her dagger strapped to her side says otherwise. “It's a pleasure, your highness.”

“Likewise—”

“What happened?” Hobie interrupts your friendly greeting.

“Two words, a lot of fucking guards.” The one with the dark hair and blue eyes says while he exhales like he tried to win a race against a horse.

“That's more than two words, moron.” A woman clad in black says, she winks when she meets with your eyes. “I guess we got something more precious.”

“Princess, meet the crew. Crew meet the princess.” Hobie says while he takes a rope from one of them. He tries your hands together, leaving enough wiggle room as to not hurt your wrists.

“No jewels but we got a princess. So plan C then?” A man wearing one of the guard uniforms says. He takes his hat off, revealing a priest’s halo under it.

“You've got a priest in your crew?” You ask, looking at Hobie. There's a lot more racing footsteps heading for the center of the maze, the guards are definitely the one marching towards you now. It's nice to be remembered sometimes.

“He lost a bet.” He just shrugs it off as if that answers your question. Looking at his crew, he addresses them, “there's nothin’ we can do now, we go to plan C.”

“Wait, what's plan C?” You ask, and your eyes widen when one by one, each member jumps off the balcony down to the cold depths. “W–wait, no, absolutely not!”

“This is plan C.” Hobie hobbles towards the edge of the balcony, arm holding you against him while you hear splashes from below.

“Alright, I change my mind! Put me down!” Now that you and Hobie are the only ones left on the balcony, he carries you as he lifts himself over the balcony edge. Standing up with you in his arms, you look down for a second and vertigo shifts your vision into a blurry mess. You don't even notice that you're clutching onto his chest and hiding your face into the fabric of his suit.

“Halt!” A guard yells above the rushing blood in your ears. You hear swords getting unsheathed, and angry words thrown at the man you're currently clutching onto.

With his hands holding you, Hobie laughs, “hold your breath, princess!” He jumps over the balcony backwards despite your screaming.

Your breath is stuck in your throat, soul leaving your body as you fall. Hobie's cackling echoes while the winds rush past your ears, heartbeat thudding, and face hidden on his chest, you fall into the cold depths, chill stinging your skin. And the last thing you see before the darkness envelopes you is his hand reaching for your own in the cold bitter blue of the sea.

—

You wake up with a groan and smell distinctively like fish and seaweed. Your vision sways, seeing the ground rock too, you surmise that you're on the move. It's either that or the carriage you're on smells weirdly like horse dung.

You're placed on a horse with your hands tied behind your back, stomach hurting from the saddle, sun bearing down on you, and dress weighing like a ton from it being drenched in the water. You're uncomfortable to say the least. They didn't have the foresight to bind your feet though, you may have a chance to run if you're lucky enough to have one.

“Is this how you treat a princess?” You groggily say, head turning to see your captor.

Hobie glances down at you with a smirk, he's no longer in his frilly court clothes. Now he's donning a simple green undershirt that he purposely let loose on the collar, showing off his skin as it glimmers in the blazing sun. There's a quiver of arrows at his back, and a bow strapped on the side of his saddle that pokes your leg. His sword is settled at his hip, pommel engraved with a spider, looking like it's crawling right on the scuffed metal.

“Only to the fit ones.” His gloved hands are placed atop your back casually, using you like his personal table while he reigns in his horse. “ain't that right, Roach?” He addresses his blue dappled horse. Roach huffs, nodding as if he actually understood his rider. “See?”

You scoff, “you trained him to say yes to everything you say.” But you can't deny the heat blossoming on your cheeks. There's trotting next to you and you look to your side to see who it is.

“You’re awfully calm about all of this, princess.” The raven haired asks with a lopsided smile.

You shrug the best you can while in your position. “Just a regular day for me I suppose.”

“Have you been kidnapped before?” Someone asks behind you, his voice familiar while dry leaves crunch under the hooves.

“A handful of times, usually I'm with one or two of my siblings so my parents always pay the ransom. I don't know if they'll pay if it's only me now.”

“That's really sad actually.” He says, now you remember him being the one with the priest's hair who supposedly lost a bet.

Hobie chuckles from above, and you look up at him with a glare. He raises a brow and moves your head with his palm atop your head, turning it towards the woman riding next to you. You could only huff at him.

“What's your name, priest?” You ask, voice strained from the position.

“Just call me Ned, princess.”

“It's nice to meet you, Ned. I'm sorry about your hair.”

“It's alright. It's quite breezy actually.” He rubs his hand above his bald spot.

“How about you? What's your name?” You ask the pretty woman.

She smiles, dark eyes shadowed by the canopy above. “It's Yuri for you, gorgeous.”

You smile back genuinely. “You have such a pretty name—”

“Oi, stop makin' friends with ‘em.” Hobie flicks the shell of your ear, earning a gasp from you.

“Ow!” You hear their guffaws echo around the forest. “It's called being nice.”

“It's a tactic to make us bring you back to the palace. And it ain't workin’, princess.” He tilts his head down, mocking you with his stare.

You try to bite him but he's too fast to catch as he moves away before you could. “So that was your brilliant plan then? To charm me and take me as your hostage?” You say while trying to wiggle out of your binds.

“Not originally no, I was just there to distract you and for you to bring me to the hallways leading to the garden so I could toss them the keys I nicked from your shitty guards.” He explains plainly with a teasing smirk.

You chortle, mocking him back. “But you didn't take into account that there would be guards inside, huh? For a mastermind that’s a bit stupid of you.”

“This daft mastermind got somethin' better than jewels.” Hobie bends down, now eye to eye with you, you see every green and grey speck in his hazel eyes that reminds you of a cloudy night sky or a field of wildflowers in the summer. He blinks at your unusual soft gaze, words trapped in his throat as he sees your eyes glance briefly down at his lips. He swallows down his sudden rush of feelings, “I've got you, princess.”

You inhale, and you smell fresh dandelions in the air combined with pine swirling in the wind. “Not to disappoint you but they won't pay that much for me.”

“We don't need that much anyway,” he says, and unbeknownst to him, there's a dozen pairs of eyes watching the two of you interact. “Just enough for us to get by, love. We don't hoard wealth like your greedy father.”

“I—” before you could retort, (one that you're sure would be so clever that it'll blow him away.) A sharp whistle sounds out around the thick mossy forest. It sounds like a bird singing for a second, then when you look at where the sound came from right in front of you, a thick curtain of vines unfurl, revealing a small bustling village hidden behind the undergrowth. “What?”

“Welcome to Doverhill, princess.” He says, tapping the top of your head with his finger.

The horses move towards the large space just passing the vines, and you now see the village in its fullest form. Straw and wooden huts are built around the clearing, its chimneys softly billow out smoke; you guess that they need to lessen the use of their chimneys to stay hidden lest they want to be found in the middle of the dense forest. You look up and you spot a pair of large trees on each side with a crow's nest built atop it where archers guard and watch over the only entrance and exit in the whole village. The place is protected by large looming trees that grow around the area, every tree has lush canopies that protect the village from the intense sun and hide them from above. But the leaves still leave enough sunlight to pass through its greenery, it bathes the whole area with dappled lights that dance in the breeze.

You take note of the complete amenities, there's a stable and a barn further up ahead. Rows and upon rows of farmland where fruits and vegetables grow bountifully. There's also a bigger building on the right where you guess it could be the town hall. There are also a handful of wells placed around so that enough people would get their water without walking too far to grab a bucket. A few of the notable buildings are a blacksmith with its relentless hammer pounding onto a smoldering sword. A bakery with pastries perfectly lined up at the front, and even a tailor and a cobbler sitting next to each other.

As you get closer, you see an even bigger tree sitting in the middle of the village. Its large trunk is thick, bigger than anything you've ever seen. The leaves are viridescent and healthy, it looks like it's centuries old. There, within its branches is a tree house covered in vines with violets growing among its walls. Despite the green and browns that surround it, the lone tree house is painted with a brighter shade of blue and accents of red. The door is even in the same shade, and the ladder leading up to it is painted in alternating colours of the rainbow. It's beautiful and enticing to the eyes.

You see movement in your peripheral, taking your attention away from the tree house, the sound of childish laughter echo and you spot children running around while adults tend to their homes and garden. Once they hear the trotting of horses, they stop by to wave at you, or to Hobie and his crew more like.

“What is this place?”

“I told you, it's Doverhill.” He smiles back at the people, face turning back into a smirk when he returns his attention towards you. “What did you expect us to live? A basement of a tavern? The bloody sewers?”

“No,” you scoff while taking a whiff of a freshly baked bread cooling on a nearby windowsill. “I just didn't expect it to be this lively.” You turn towards him despite the ache in your neck. “How many people live here?”

“Close to two hundred.” He smiles proudly, eyes trained up front. “All these years and none of you royals knew that we've been in ‘ere, instead you all looked under rocks and behind waterfalls for us.”

You blink at the sheer size of the canopy that provides a dome like roof above. “It's beautiful.” With awe and delight in your eyes, Hobie could only look at you with a ghost of a smile.

“Hobart Larry Brown!” A yell interrupts your awestruck gaze, craning your neck to the source, you see an old woman with a cane quickly making her way towards the group. “Who the hell is that?!”

“Auntie!” Hobie abruptly stops his horse, the second he does, his crew disperses subtly, leaving him behind to face the wrath of the old woman. “Oi!” He tries to call them back but they're already gone. Probably hiding behind the houses to save their own skins. “We were out on that heist we were plannin’ remember, aunt Janet?”

“Don't patronize me, boy!” She points at Hobie with the tip of her cane, poking his chest as he raises his hands up in surrender. “Is this how you treat a girl? Get her off of that bloody horse.”

“Alright, alright, calm down, yeah?” He gets off the horse swiftly, and then carries you carefully with his hands on your hips.

You swear you stopped breathing the entire time he had his hands on you. As much as you want to hate him, you can't deny how he makes your heart jump in place.

Once you're back on your feet, you stretch your back, hearing the crack of the corset. Or maybe that's your back making that god awful sound. He chuckles, hiding his amusement on his shoulder with the excuse of wiping his sweat on his tunic.

“So,” Janet steps in front of you, grey eyes soft and genuine. “Who are you? A lady? A duchess?”

“A princess actually.”

“Oh lord have mercy.” She says underneath her breath, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. “You kidnapped *the princess? You fool!” With her cane, she strikes him down like a child being chastised. Hobie shields himself with his arms above his head while you laugh at his misfortune. More and more people come out to watch the spectacle, giggles and chortling echoing around the clearing. “I bet you didn't get any of the royal jewels and you settled for an actual royal jewel!”

“Aww how sweet of you—”

“Hush, you monarchist!” She takes a 180 and jabs you with her cane. You take a step back, aghast at what she called you.

“As for you!” She turns back to Hobie, finding him grinning at what happened. “Stop playing, child! I heard the commotion from over here! What if you and the rest of the little shits got hurt?”

“We have a name, Janet—” he tries to explain, only to be met with her cane on his hip. “Ow.”

Janet puts her cane back down, ending her tirade. “Bringing her here only spells out trouble, Hobie.”

“It wasn't exactly part of the bloody plan, auntie.”

She sighs, “what are we gonna do with her?” She points at you like you're not in the same place as her.

“I'm right here.” You shrug, “and if you asked me, you'll find that I'm useful and not just some dirty monarchist.”

“You are?” Both Hobie and aunt Janet ask simultaneously.

You clench your jaw, sucking in your teeth. “I will explain, but first can we take these ropes off? My wrists hurt.” They narrow their eyes at you. “I'm not gonna run away, promise.”

Hobie takes a step towards you, but he's stopped by aunt Janet putting her cane on his chest. He huffs in place, arms crossed in protest. She walks towards you with her eyes narrowed, rightfully suspicious of you. Taking her cane, she twists the top and out she unsheathes a shiny dagger from her cane. Grabbing your hands, she swiftly cuts off your binds before you could even jump back when she brandished her weapon.

Aunt Janet backs away next to Hobie while everyone in the village has their eyes on you. Glancing around, you spot an opportunity where no one is there. A break within the circle of the crowd. You pretend to roll around the joints in your wrist, opening your mouth like you're about to speak, you suddenly point at the sky.

“What the hell is that?!” They surprisingly look up, and you immediately make a break for it. You don't hear footsteps running after you so you keep running. Just as when you're about to make it towards the vines, you trip, falling face first into the dirt and skidding a few feet away. With a groan, you lift yourself up, nose aching and bleeding, mouth full of grass and soil. You feel like you've been dragged by a horse.

A head of red appears in your blurred vision. She pokes the top of your head, teasing you. “Sorry, I had too.”

“Good on you, Mayday!” Hobie makes his way towards the two of you as you slump down on the ground, hiding your face from sheer embarrassment. “Thwarted by a ten year old.”

“I'm eleven, Hobie!” She says, and you thump your forehead against the grass.

You feel a palm sliding down between your head and the grass, preventing you from bashing. “Careful now, princess, wouldn't want to hurt you now, hm?”

You groan, surrendering yourself and letting your head fall on his palm while he praises the child who tripped you.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

Custom banners by @the-shroom-garden

[runariya]

Vampire jk which abducted reader from a covenience store bc he thinks she's pretty and he won't share. Make it yandere and DARK pls pls

(yandere) part of the prompt game pairing: vampire!Jungkook x f!reader genre: vampire!AU, yandere, dark romance warnings: yandere, obsession, compulsion so kind of non-con, mentions of blood, lmk if I forgot smth word count: 1.775

a/n: hope it's dark enough lol

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

There’s something about the way you move, something about the way you exist, something so breakable, so delicate, so utterly fragile in your very being, like a porcelain doll poised on the edge of a shelf, waiting for a hand, just one careless hand, to shatter you into a thousand tiny pieces—shards of glass, glittering remnants of what was once whole but could never be put back together again.

Jungkook watches you, has been watching you for months now, lurking like the monster he is, in the corners of the streets you walk down in the darkening evenings, in the dim alleyways of your naive routine, unnoticed but always there, lingering with an intent that borders on obsession. Your skin is pale, your eyes wide, innocent, doe-like, and your lips are so soft-looking he sometimes wonders what it would feel like to press his thumb against them, feel the warmth of your breath, see if you’d break under the slightest bit of pressure, just snap like a twig in winter, cold and brittle.

It’s funny, he thinks, how you walk through life so unaware, so untouched by the darkness that curls around you, the shadows that creep along the edges of your world, waiting to consume you, and he, of course, is one of those shadows, watching you, biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment, the moment when he’ll take you, make you his.

You’re so beautiful in your naivety, so perfect in your ignorance, and there’s a strange satisfaction in knowing that he’ll be the one to break you, to take that innocence and twist it into something darker, something that belongs to him, something that can never escape him once he’s had his way with it.

It happens on a Tuesday, a drizzly, grey afternoon in the convenience store, where the fluorescent lights buzz incessantly overhead and the air smells faintly of damp vegetables and cheap cleaning products. You’re there, standing in front of a shelf filled with canned soup, your fingers trailing absentmindedly along the labels as you read them with that same curious intensity you seem to give everything else, as if choosing a can of soup could somehow change the course of your life.

He stands a few aisles down, pretending to be interested in some boxed pasta, but his eyes are on you, always on you, drawn to you like a moth to a flame, that simmering sense of possessiveness curling tighter and tighter in his chest while saliva collects in his mouth, fangs protruding just a little.

You’re wearing a light dress today, something floral and soft, something that makes you look even more delicate than usual, and it’s that sight, that perfect, breakable sight, that makes him decide that today is the day, that he’s done waiting, done watching, done hiding like some kind of forgotten nightmare. No, today he’ll take you, and you won’t even know it’s happening until it’s too late.

He approaches you slowly, casually, his footsteps silent on the linoleum floor, and when he’s close enough that you can feel his presence, you turn your head to look at him, those wide, innocent, beautiful eyes locking onto his, and for a moment, just a brief flicker of a moment, you look confused, like you don’t quite know what to make of him, but that’s okay. He’s not worried. He never worries. He knows what he is, knows what he can do, and humans are so terribly easy to manipulate, to control, to bend to his will without even realising it.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low, smooth, almost like velvet, as he steps closer, his eyes never leaving yours, and there’s a slight smile playing on his lips, a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, because why would it? You’re just a fragile little thing, after all, and he knows exactly how fragile things can break.

You blink up at him, that confusion still clouding your gaze, but there’s something else there too, something that he recognises immediately—the fear, the instinctive fear that all prey feels when it senses a predator nearby. But you don’t run. You don’t even move. You’re frozen, like a deer caught in headlights, staring up at him with those wide, pretty eyes, and it’s almost too easy, almost too perfect.

“You’re coming with me,” he says, his voice still that same velvet tone, but there’s an edge to it now, a command, and as he says the words, he reaches out, his hand brushing against your arm, and he feels the spark, the connection, the compulsion sliding into place like a key turning in a lock.

Your eyes glaze over slightly, your lips parting just a little, and you nod, so softly, so obediently, it makes his cold heart swell with something dark and possessive. You’re his now. You don’t even know it, but you’re his, and there’s no turning back.

A young grocery store employee approaches you then, a kid really, barely old enough to be working here, and he’s looking at you, not at Jungkook, with concern in his eyes, because even he can sense that something isn’t right, that something about this situation feels off, but Jungkook doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about the boy. He only cares about you.

“Is everything okay?” the boy asks, his voice hesitant, unsure, and he takes a step closer, like he might try to intervene, might try to play the hero in this little scene, but Jungkook just looks at him, just gives him one look, one cold, dead-eyed look, and the boy stops in his tracks, the blood draining from his face, fear settling deep into his bones. He doesn’t say another word. He just turns around and walks away, too scared, too weak to do anything else, and Jungkook almost laughs, almost, but there’s no time for that, not now.

“Let’s go,” he whispers to you, and you nod again, that same obedient little nod, and he takes your small hand, cold fingers wrapping around yours, pulling you along behind him as you walk out of the store, out into the rain, out into the world where no one will stop him, where no one will even try, because no one ever does.

His house is dark, shadowed, the kind of place where nightmares are born and never quite die, and as he leads you inside, he watches you closely, watches the way you move, the way you follow him without question, without hesitation, and it’s almost laughable, because you’re so fragile, so tiny, so breakable, and he knows, deep down, that he could crush you in an instant, snap you in half without much effort, and you wouldn’t even fight back. You wouldn’t even scream.

He brings you to the living room, where the air reeks with the scent of old wood and something else, something metallic and dark, like blood that’s dried long ago, and he pushes you gently onto the couch, watching as you sit there, your hands folded neatly in your lap, your eyes still glazed over, still lost in that compulsion, and it’s so satisfying, so incredibly satisfying, to know that you’re his now, that you belong to him in every way that matters.

“Do you know how long I’ve watched you?” he asks you, his voice soft, almost tender, as he sits down beside you, his cold hand resting on your knee, his inked fingers trailing lightly over the fabric of your dress. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment?”

You don’t respond, of course. You can’t. Not while you’re under his control, not while his will is the only thing that matters in your mind. But that’s fine. He doesn’t need you to respond. He just needs you to listen.

“I’ve watched you for months,” he continues, his voice low, almost a whisper now, as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, inhaling deeply as his fangs come fully to life, “and I’ve thought about all the ways I could take you, all the ways I could make you mine. You’re so pretty, so perfect, so breakable… like a fucking doll. I could snap you in half if I wanted to, you know? I could break you, and you wouldn’t even know it until it was too late.”

His hand moves up your leg, cold fingers sliding under the hem of your dress, and you still don’t move, still don’t react, and it’s almost intoxicating, the power he holds over you, the way you’re completely at his mercy, completely and utterly his.

“But I won’t break you,” he purrs softly, his voice almost gentle now, as if he’s trying to soothe you, trying to make you believe that he’s not the monster you should fear. “I won’t break you because I’m not like that. I’m not like the others. I have a gold heart, you see… but my hands are cold. So cold.”

He lifts his hand, showing you his fingers, pale and icy, and he watches as your eyes follow the movement, as if you’re mesmerised by the sight of him, by the sight of something so inhuman, so otherworldly.

“I won’t break you,” he repeats, and this time, there’s something darker in his voice, something twisted and possessive and full of the kind of love that only monsters can feel. “I’ll keep you, instead. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll keep you forever.”

And then he leans in, closer and closer, until his lips are inches from yours, and he can feel your breath on his skin, warm and soft, and it’s almost too much, almost too perfect, because he knows that in this moment, in this exact moment, you’re his, completely and utterly his, and nothing will ever change that.

“You belong to me now,” he whispers against your lips, and then, without waiting for a response, without giving you a chance to even think even if you tried, he kisses you.

His lips are cold, colder than ice, colder than death, and he feels you shudder beneath him, feels the way your body reacts to the touch, the way your skin prickles with goosebumps, and it’s so satisfying, so incredibly satisfying, to know that he’s the one causing it, that he’s the one who owns you now, body and soul.

And as he kisses you, as he feels you give in to him completely, he knows that this is just the beginning, just the start of something darker, something twisted, something that will never end, because you’re his now, and you’ll never be anything else.

Never.

PART 2

[bvidzsoo]

Love Me Like A Rockstar (9)

ー☆ Chapter 9: You (Show Me Where My Days Went)

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: cursing ー☆ Word count: 9.8k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hi, lovelies!! LMLAR is BACK!! I am sooo happy I could finally update and just write, y'all have no idea! I am so sorry for making you wait so long for this update, but finishing my thesis was super important! I still have to study and such this month, but I promise next update won't take as long as this one did! (I'm writing other stories too while writing this one, so that kinda backfires sometimes lol) I am forever grateful that you are patient and stick around for the new chapters, this story is so dear to me you wouldn't even believe it. I am also super grateful and happy whenever you leave feedback, so please, keep on doing just that!<3 This chapter only exists because I was randomly inspired, and I'd like to apologize if it's a little rusty, I always have to get in "character" when I write this story lol. I am soo excited for next chapter, I think it's going to surprise you hehe. PLS PLS imagine that airport look from Mingi when reading this chapter, the pics from the moodboard, you'll see during which part! I also have a very small surprise at the end of this chapter hehe. I hope the time jumps aren't too confusing:(( Please, listen to the song called You before or while reading! Enough yapping, I hope you enjoy and leave feedback! (Taglist is always open for those interested! ^^)

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf @hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter���

♫Playlist♫

Later that day

I hate him: hey…just checking in that I got home safely what are u up to?

I blinked, fingers tightening around my phone before I locked it, leaving the message on unread. My mother’s shuffling outside my door caught my attention, bringing a smile onto my lips as I watched her struggle while bringing all the dirty laundry to the bathroom. Then, I got off my bed to go help her.

Friday (11:30 am)

I hate him: i see u still haven’t checked my message… nothing too worrisome u certainly know how to make a man yearn for you lol that was a joke…dont freak out on me pls (lowkey true tho)

Friday (12:50 pm)

I hate him: lol, wooyoung has been bitching about seulgi’s professor for half an hour now mr. kwon u know him? i mean…i suppose he also teaches u i should take a sneaky video for u…wooyoung looks like a clown hanging upside down my bed and pouting like a damn child too (dont say im also one, thanks)

Friday (15:26 pm)

I hate him: well…ik my messages are going through so uh… why tf are u ignoring me???! *cries and dies in loneliness* entertain me dollll!!! im so bored pls oh…u said u had an important assignment…i bet u’re busy with that sorry for spamming u (text back tho when u’re done, im dying here…wooyoung is with seulgi and so is seonghwa with hongjoong…the single life sucks, bestie…lets be single and depressed together<3)

My jaw clenched as I heaved a long sigh, falling back on my bed as the sun shone brightly through my open window, the light breeze making me shiver as I only wore a t-shirt and sweats. Autumn was slowly turning into winter; the weather wasn’t so warm anymore. I threw another look at my phone, unlocked it, and stared at the received messages from Mingi for a second before finally deciding to delete them from my notification center, rolling over in bed to muffle a frustrated scream into my soft, and purple, pillow.

            Saturday (9:09 am)

I hate him: i had the weirdest dream and im not even sure i want to tell u about it LOL but uh…a grisly was chasing me??? and then u appeared on a fucking white horse like a prince LOL and threatened to like…slay it if it didnt leave me alone??? honestly…what a slay, bestie good morning, btw, doll hope u had a better night’s sleep than me (and dreamed of me ehehehe)

            Saturday (17:40 pm)

I hate him: i cant believe i allowed myself to be fooled like this back in highschool yuyu and i used to play baseball for shits and giggles and hongjoong (that rich prick) rented a whole ass baseball field for us for the afternoon and let us play with some of his (rich af) friends and uh… i think i wont be able to walk straight for another week with how much running i did… hongjoong kept scoring homeruns…i wish yuyu was here to kick his loser ass (dont tell hwa or hong i said that PLS) yo doll…everything’s alright with u? uh u…really havent answered me since… yk…i stayed over and waited for the rain to stop… have i done something wrong?

I sighed and put my phone on ‘do not disturb’, suddenly having lost all of my appetite as I forced the rest of the lettuce down my throat. My mother was sipping her kiwi and apple smoothie, eyes narrowed as she muttered to herself while trying to memorize the recipe of a dessert for later. Desserts were never her forte, unfortunately.

“Is it Seulgi?” She asked absentmindedly as I took a large gulp of my own smoothie, staring down at my salad, steak pushed to the side in my plate.

“Huh?” I asked distracted, eyes still glued to the dark screen of my phone.

“Texting you, your phone keeps buzzing, my starlight.” I rolled my eyes at the nickname, but didn’t bother to comment on it. I took a peek at my mother and her eyes were narrowed at me already, video on YouTube paused. Fuck, I had to answer her now or else she’d pester me all day long. And that would be a nightmare.

“Yeah, it’s Seulgi.” I lied, trying to make my voice sound convincing.

“Well, answer her then, don’t be rude.” My mother chastised me, pressing play on her video again, pursing her lips as she shook her head at whatever the man baking was saying.

“Later.” I whispered, biting my lower lip as my eyes remained glued to my phone, stomach clenching and heart dropping.

But I couldn’t.

            Sunday (1:01 am)

I hate him: …you’re ignoring me, arent u? im sorry, y/n, i dont know what i did wrong, but we can talk about it we’re friends, after all…right?

『When you came along, I knew what was wrong

If you want to know exactly what I've missed』

            Monday (present time)

            It truly would have been a missed opportunity if Seulgi and I wouldn’t have grabbed coffee and went to sit in our usual spot in the back garden. The campus of our University was huge and that was perfect, because it meant people migrated and didn’t stay in one spot for long—at least long enough to irritate me to no end. Last week deemed to be rather rough, and I still didn’t feel like completely myself. To be honest, I thought about staying home today—and for the rest of the week—but I couldn’t afford missing any of my classes as exam period was slowly nearing, and so, I had to force my ass out of the house this morning before my mother could come and nag me about my weirdly unusual broody mood that has been going on for the past few days.

I hummed as I took a sip of my sweet coffee, enjoying the taste of warm caramel as Seulgi sighed loudly next to me, both hands cupped around her own coffee cup. The scent of cinnamon wafted from her cup and I scrunched up my nose, not too fond of the ingredient’s smell. Our classes started early in the morning today and we’d be here for at least four more hours, caffeine seemed like our only hope to stay awake and aware at this point. Given the fact that my baffling thoughts kept me up all night yesterday, I felt grateful that I was still on my feet at two o’clock at noon. As Seulgi fidgeted again, I chuckled and finally turned my head to look at her. She had a sheepish look on her face, and I tried not to laugh as I knew she was bursting to tell me all about her date with Wooyoung on Saturday.

“Well,” I started as I took a sip of my coffee, prolonging the suspense for her, “how did your date go?”

“It was amazing!” I had barely finished asking as Seulgi exclaimed, her cheeks turning rosy—and it wasn’t due to the cold air, “Wooyoung is—everything I thought he would be. He’s sweet and up for anything, he makes me laugh until I feel like passing out, and there’s just never a dull moment with him, you know?”

“One would expect that from him.” I muttered against my cup, laughing as Seulgi nudged my side, not looking too happy with my comment, “Oh, come on, it would be hard for Wooyoung to be different than the way he mostly presents himself; don’t you think?”

Seulgi grumbled something against her cup as she lightly bit into the carton, shooting me a pointed stare, “Well, yes, but…he makes me happy. Treats me well and all that, you know, he’s the perfect embodiment of what a boyfriend should be like.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” I teased with a smirk, wriggling my eyebrows at my best friend as her cheeks flushed an even darker color as she bit her lower lip, trying to mask the huge grin expanding on her lips. But as soon as I started giggling, Seulgi also broke out in a fit of giggles, hiding herself behind her wavy hair, pressing her cup of coffee against her face.

“God, I’m so down bad for him, Y/N, I don’t think you’d understand.” She mused, voice airy as she threw her head back, leaning back against the back of the bench. I chuckled and took another sip of my drink.

“Maybe I’d do.” I muttered, memories of my relationship with Yunho resurfacing. Thankfully, however, I managed to repress them as quickly as they came. They didn’t feel so gut-wrenching anymore, and to my surprise, didn’t leave a bitter taste in its wake either. What has changed? Certainly—certainly getting closer to his best friend didn’t influence the way I feel about Yunho, right? Right.

“So,” I glanced at Seulgi from the corner of my eyes as she swung her legs, looking down at her feet in the process, “how are you?”

“Fine, why?” I asked confused, angling my body to face Seulgi better.

“You’ve been…distant the whole weekend. I could barely reach you.” Seulgi’s voice sounded small and I gulped, feeling bad for making her worry about me, “You know…the last time you pulled away and disappeared, it was bad.”

“I promise you I am doing completely fine, Seulgi, you’d be the first person to know if I was in a bad headspace again, alright?” I reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Seulgi sighed and then raised her head to look at me, lips pulled into a thin line.

“Promise?”

“Of course, I promise.” I smiled at her warmly and she hummed in contentment, squeezing my hand back as she took a sip of her coffee. I followed suit before removing my hand from hers to fiddle with my half empty cup, “I’m just dealing with some things right now. I think I’m confused.”

“About what?” Seulgi asked curiously, leaning closer as I continued to avoid eye contact with her.

“I’ll tell you once I have my thoughts sorted about it.” I chuckled, making Seulgi roll her eyes in displeasure.

“You know, I tell you absolutely everything about myself and how I fell, and you always shut me out and tell me how you felt about a situation when it’s been over for years.” Seulgi pouted, narrowing her eyes at me, “How’s that fair, Y/N?”

“Hey, we work differently, don’t try to guilt trip me now.” I chuckled and took a sip of my coffee, making Seulgi roll her eyes, “Anyways, what did you do on your date with Wooyoung?”

“We went to the cinema,” Seulgi’s face lit up once again, grinning from ear to ear, “He bought me roses, a big bouquet. And after the movie we went for a walk and ended up stargazing in his cabriolet. It was really romantic.”

I smiled, feeling happy for my friend, she deserved someone like Wooyoung, “That actually sounds really amazing…and romantic.”

“Oh, my God, are you really Y/N? Where is my friend that hates anything that has to do with romance, cute stuff, and love?!” Seulgi’s shocked face was mocking and I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms in front of my chest as I leaned back against the back of the bench.

“I don’t hate it, I’m just not a huge fan of all of those things, okay?!” I shrugged, letting my arms fall from my chest as I pushed them inside my coat’s pockets.

“Who’s the culprit?” When I raised my eyebrows at Seulgi, a sign that I didn’t understand her question, she chuckled and leaned closer, “Who’s the man that’s changing your views on life, huh?”

“Man?” I asked with a scoff, giving Seulgi a deadpanned expression, “Does it always have to be about a man? Can’t it be just the fact that I had a change of mind?”

“Sure, because of someone.” Seulgi had a smug look on her face, acting as if she won the argument. But there was no argument here and she had no idea what she was talking about.

“Whatever—” But I got cut off as her phone dinged loudly. Seulgi, very comically, scrambled to reach for her phone and as she opened it up, a wide grin stretched onto her lips. It didn’t take two braincells to realize who had texted her, and thus, I chuckled and turned my head. I sipped my coffee, taking in my environment while Seulgi answered her boyfriend, giggling quietly every now and then.

The campus was finally silent and not as busy as it usually was in the early morning hours. The cold weather also helped in keeping the garden a little quieter as most people preferred to stay inside the warm corridors and classrooms. But the chilly air was good, it soothed my nerves and erased thoughts that weren’t productive. Similar to that, were the emotions that I didn’t want to deal with again, like the guilt that’s never left me ever since Mingi walked out of my house wearing Yunho’s old clothes. It felt wrong letting him take them without knowing the truth about them, but I didn’t feel ready to tell him yet about the truth. I was scared, surprisingly, of what he’d think of me once he found out about Yunho and I. I was scared that—he’d walk away, like Yunho had once done. And that was a very frightening thought. But when had I become so attached to Mingi? When has Mingi managed to infiltrate himself so thoroughly in my life, that the thought of completely losing him became scary? And why was I taking the past few days so badly? It’s not like we were as close as Seulgi and I, or him and Seonghwa and Wooyoung, yet, ignoring him felt like the wrong move to do. However, the reasoning I always circled back to was the fact that I needed space. I had to clear my mind, to find the purpose of this whole friendship that’s been blooming between us, and to make sense of everything. I had to figure out first why Yunho barely scraped my thoughts now, and why was it was Mingi who I found myself thinking of so often. In case you were wondering, no, I still haven’t found the reason, and it was becoming frustrating quite quickly. That near kiss was a—mistake. Yet, it could have been so much worse—it could have been a real kiss. And a real kiss would have ruined everything. I didn’t want to open up to anyone just yet, not when the memories of Yunho still haunted me in my dreams and drawings. Drawings that now more often than not consisted of Song Mingi.

And to my horror, the flipping of paper sheets is what alerted me back to my surroundings as I had been lost in my thoughts, oblivious to Seulgi putting her phone down and grabbing my sketchbook that lay between the two of us on the bench. As I turned my head, my eyes widened as Seulgi’s expression held surprise but amusement as well. She chuckled as she looked up, making eye contact with me. I lunged forward in an instant, trying to take my sketchbook out of her hands, but she leaned back and away, putting it behind herself.

“Bitch, I’m not the only one who’s down bad for a man.” She said with a laugh, making me groan as I gave up trying to snatch my sketchbook back from her.

“I’m not down bad for a man, Seulgi, stop this non-sense.” I hissed, cheeks burning in embarrassment as she kept flipping through my drawings.

“Please,” She scoffed, turning my sketchbook around and making me grimace as I came face to face with an exact replica of Mingi, sitting in his chair, at his studio that one time he invited me inside, “Who the fuck draws so many drawings of one single person if they aren’t in love with them—”

“I’m not in love with Mingi, stop it!” I exclaimed, heart beating fast as Seulgi raised her eyebrows at me, looking unimpressed, “Don’t ever again say that, Seulgi.”

“Okay, calm down, whatever. You’re not in love with Mingi.” She chuckled, closing my sketchbook but she didn’t hand it back yet, “But let’s face it, Y/N, you have a thing for Mingi. It’s super freaking obvious even without the drawings.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I hissed and finally snatched the sketchbook out of her hands, clutching it to my chest. I knew bringing this along today would turn out to be a mistake, and here I was, facing the repercussions of my actions.

“There’s this glint in your eyes whenever you look at him—”

“Yeah, it’s called dislike.” I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

“And I see how you struggle to refrain yourself from smiling when you’re around him—”

“Bitch, be for real, Mingi and I aren’t even often together around you for you to notice that.” I scoffed, completely appealed by whatever absurd claims my best friend was making.

“So you’re not denying it—would it really be so bad if you liked Mingi?” But Seulgi ignored all my interruption as she raised her eyebrows at me, smiling softly, “He’s a nice guy. Very well-mannered and with a big, and good heart. Wooyoung loves him a lot and is always worrying about him. He says Mingi hasn’t been the same ever since his best friend moved away for college—”

“Mingi is Yunho’s best friend!” I blurted out before I could stop myself, finally feeling like a stone was taken off my chest as I bit my lower lip, averting my eyes from Seulgi’s shocked expression, “Mingi is the best friend Yunho had always talked so much about while we were together. I—do you understand why it would be so bad if I ended up liking Mingi?”

“Y/N,” Seulgi whispered, eyebrows furrowed, “for how long have you know?”

“Long enough.” I muttered before clearing my throat, “So please understand that I’m not ready for whatever the hell me drawing all those sketches of Mingi could mean. A month ago I was close to bursting out crying even at the thought of Yunho, and now I fail to remember his existence on my best days.”

When I dared take a peek at Seulgi, she was smiling softly, almost proudly, “Fine, I’ll pester you about this later on, when you’ve figured things out, but until then—you can’t deny Mingi isn’t hot—”

“Can we stop talking about Min—”

“Hi, girls!” I jumped in fright at the overly excited and shrill greeting as both Seulgi and I turned our heads to be met with…Wooyoung and Mingi. Speak of the devil. Suddenly, there was a lump in my throat, and my heart started beating just a little bit faster as my eyes fell on Mingi’s tall form. It didn’t help that underneath his coat he was wearing Yunho’s sweater—the one I had given him.

“Hi.” Seulgi giggled as Wooyoung leaned down to press a kiss against her cheek, the two looking sickly in love. It was actually endearing, but I’d never admit it out loud for my own sake as I knew I’d get teased about it by Seulgi. I averted my eyes from Wooyoung and Seulgi as they were muttering things to each other, and so, had no choice but to look up at Mingi, who looked—expressionless. Something in my stomach dropped at his cold demeanor, and it was worse that I wanted to assume it was my fault that he looked like that. But just as I was about to look away, he cracked the tiniest smile ever, and I exhaled, licking my lips.

“Hi.” My voice was small as I gulped, eyes trans-fixated on the tall man as his smile became just a little wider. I don’t think I had the power to ignore him anymore, not when he was standing right in front of me, looking like he wished to be anywhere but here.

“Hi, Y/N.” Having not heard his voice in days, it sounded even deeper and raspier than usually, making butterflies erupt in my stomach as my grip tightened around my sketchbook. I felt a little awkward, perhaps even tense, as Mingi didn’t say anything else, just continued gazing down at me with his sharp dark brown eyes boring into my own. I had so many things that I could’ve said to him, but I felt tongue tied. I didn’t know what would be the right way to approach him after I ignored him for so many days. Would he understand? Is he mad at me now? Does he hate me now? Will he forgive me—

“Okay,” Wooyoung chuckled, syllable drawn out and sounding amused, “I feel like I’m interrupting something here, yet they are basically just staring at each other.”

“You’re right.” Seulgi giggled, and I finally looked away from Mingi, throwing a glare at my best friend as she had leaned into Wooyoung’s side, who stood next to the bench and her.

“Shush, you two.” Mingi beat me to telling the two love-birds off, and I couldn’t help but smile, “Don’t poke your nose where it doesn’t belong to.”

“Look who’s lecturing me about poking my nose where it doesn’t belong to—”

“Wooyoung.” Mingi’s tone held a warning, and it made Wooyoung giggle as he leaned down and pressed a fat kiss against Seulgi’s cheek—again—making her push him away playfully.

“We’re headed to class, are you coming over later?” Wooyoung smiled down at his girlfriend, playing with a strand of her hair.

“Maybe, if I get to finish my project.” Seulgi said with a pout and Wooyoung hummed, leaning down to press a kiss against her lips this time around. I averted my eyes, not a fan of seeing couples kiss, only to catch Mingi already looking at me. He was expressionless once again, but he was fidgeting with his fingers, looking almost nervous. And as Wooyoung stood up straight and ruffled Seulgi’s hair affectionately, Mingi took a deep breath.

“Will you come to Outlaw this Friday?” He asked in a rush, sounding almost reluctant as his eyebrows furrowed slightly and he chewed on his lower lip. To my horror, I found my eyes fixated on his plush mouth and I gulped before I quickly averted my eyes, praying that nobody caught it.

“Yes.” I answered before Seulgi could, and nodded, smiling a little bit, “I won’t miss it.”

A beautiful smile spread on Mingi’s lips and he nodded once, looking too happy for something so little. I don’t think I’ll understand anytime soon why he gets so excited and happy when I listen to his songs or watch him perform. I’m no expert when it comes to music, my feedback is merely amateur and I’m not even a fan of his band yet.

“Cool, see you then.” And Mingi didn’t wait for Wooyoung as he turned around and walked away, steps hurried. I didn’t miss the confused glance Wooyoung and Seulgi shared before Wooyoung was off, chasing after his best friend. And maybe I would be soon able to make sense of my thoughts and feelings around Mingi, figure out what they meant and why they felt so real at times.

            Monday (16:58 pm)

I hate him: hi Me: hi I hate him: would it be a lot if i asked to meet u tomorrow? Me: no, im free in the afternoon I hate him: cool, me too so uh…we can hang out in my studio? Me: or we can go to that new café with pottery I hate him: really? Me: u did say u wanted us to go… I hate him: i certainly said so i’ll pick u up around 4 Me: u don’t have to i’ll meet you there I hate him: come on, y/n…let me drive u Me: u’ve driven me around too many times by now i’ll meet u there and that’s final. I hate him: okay, boss, see ya there Me: :))

            Getting here before four o’clock and having to wait in front of the cute café had no business being this nerve-wrecking. Yeah, Mingi hasn’t shown up yet—but perhaps that’s because there were still ten minutes until it’d be four—and I knew I had no reason to think he’d bail on me, but we hadn’t spoken since yesterday, when he had asked me if we could hang out. And so, waiting for him shouldn’t have had me breaking out in a sweat despite the cold weather, making me bite my lower lip harshly as I tried to smooth down the wool, green, brown, and beige patterned coat I was wearing. First of all, why the hell would I be so nervous about meeting up with Mingi alone at this cute café? He probably wanted to talk about that near kiss, and once we had that cleared, things would go back to normal—right?!

And maybe that was the reason which made me want to vomit on the sidewalk, the thought that I knew Mingi would demand answers—answers that I wasn’t yet ready to hand out. Why did I even agree to this? Because I missed him? I should have just stayed at home and done the project I’ve been procrastinating on—again. But when I heard the rumble of Mingi’s old Honda’s engine, I knew there was no turning back, catching the bus and running home to hide underneath my blanket.

As Mingi took his time to parallel park, I took a deep breath and gripped onto the strap of my tote bag harder, looking down at myself. My apricot orange sneakers matched the color of my blouse, the top two buttons out of five undone, but not showing too much skin. My blouse was tucked inside my washed out high waisted mom jeans, the black belt matching the color of my tote bag—I know black isn’t a color, I’m an arts major after all. My hair was pulled in a low ponytail just to prevent the wind from blowing it in my face, and I was thankful that I chose my wool coat as it kept me warm enough. I have opted to wear quite a few rings today, and because my neck felt too exposed, I decorated it with three necklaces of different length. I gulped hard one last time as Mingi got out of his car and took a few seconds until he managed to lock it. However, those few seconds were exactly what I needed to prepare myself to not pass out at the full sight of him.

Mingi, in true fashion to him, wore all black, except for his jeans that were a very dark shade of blue, almost black too. His turtleneck was tucked inside his jeans, a black coat with a hood keeping him warm from the cold late autumn weather. It almost made me smile upon seeing his own tote bag, black, and funnily matching mine. Except that his was plain, while mine had Claude Monet’s Water-Lily Pond painting painted on it, done by none other than yours truly, me. Mingi’s eyes were concealed by black sunglasses, and I snorted as he almost splashed himself up by stepping a little too enthusiastically into a big puddle. Two necklaces hung around his neck, reaching down his chest. A very obvious and sturdy silver cross necklace, and another longer chain that had pearls scarcely strung on it.  And in true Song Mingi fashion, his rings weren’t missing, only two of his nails painted black on each hand, almost as if he didn’t have time to finish doing them. My heart racing in my chest so fast just at the mere sight of him, certainly wasn’t healthy, right?

“Hi!” I squeaked out and wished to burry myself instantly as Mingi chuckled, a very charming smile spreading onto his lips. It was a little annoying that I couldn’t see his eyes, forced to stare at his plush lips instead—let’s be real, nobody forced me, I did it because I couldn’t help myself, “The sun is quite blinding today, isn’t it?”

And of course, in good old fashion, my mouth worked before my brain would agree to saying something out loud, and my cheeks were burning as I knew Mingi saw me look at his lips. I had to divert the attention somehow, and teasing him was my best method, actually. It always worked.  

“I’m trying to make a fashion statement,” Mingi grinned as he gripped the sunglasses and took them off in a very unnaturally hot way, “but hello to you too.”

“No need for a fashion statement when it’s just the two of us,” I narrowed my eyes, finding Mingi’s hair very soft and fluffy looking, almost as if he had recently washed it, and it wasn’t completely dry, “I’m not one of your fans.”

“Pity,” Mingi hummed, stepping slightly closer to me, “I thought I might just finally wove you.”

I scoffed, and as I was about to tell him off, he grabbed my tote bag and pulled me after himself, headed for the entrance of the café, “Did you have to wait long for me? Traffic was busier today, I had to take a few detours to get here in time.”

“Don’t worry,” I smiled as he opened the door for me and let me walk inside first, “I only waited half an hour for you to arrive, runway princess.”

“Runway princess?!” Mingi’s eyes bulged for a second before he started laughing loudly, making a few customers glance our way as we made it inside the café. I elbowed him in the stomach gently, not too keen of having people glare at us as he disturbed their peace.

“Don’t like the nickname?” I asked with a raised brow as we neared the front desk. The cashier had a friendly smile on her face while she greeted us as Mingi and I looked up at the menu, trying to decide what we’d like to have.

“Never said that,” Mingi answered with a chuckle as he threw me a quick glance, “it’s just surprising coming from you.”

“Why, can’t I call you a princess?” I chuckled, turning to face the cashier as I have made up my mind about what I’d like to have.

“Up until now you seemed to prefer the term ‘bro’, but I’m fine with whatever you decide on calling me, doll.” The look the cashier gave us made my cheeks flame up and I cleared my throat loudly, shooting Mingi a look that told him to shut up.

“Sorry about that,” I muttered embarrassed, smiling at the cashier, “can I get a strawberry cheesecake?”

“Sure, right away, and you, sir?” Her attention was on Mingi now, cheeks flushing the longer she looked at him. Okay, I could totally understand why. Mingi looked quite good right now, it was hard not to ogle him.

“A mint-chocolate cheesecake and a cappuccino?” Mingi hummed, eyebrows furrowed in thought as he looked down at the cashier.

“Plain cappuccino or with vanilla?” The cashier typed in our orders as she asked Mingi, averting her eyes shyly once he looked at her, pursing his lips.

“Plain,” He decided at last, turning to look at me, “are you not getting anything to drink?”

“An orange fresh will be alright.” I said as I reached inside my bag to fish around for my wallet.

“And would you also like to paint some pottery?” The cashier asked, pointing behind herself at all the displayed options. Mingi and I shared a look and I smiled as I nodded at him, making him grin from ear to ear.

“Yeah, we’ll paint some pottery too. Can I have a cup?” He asked, pointing at one on the higher shelf. It was a smaller cup, specifically made for drinking coffee. The cashier nodded and then looked at me expectantly.

“Uh, a mug will do for me.” I said and thanked her once she handed us the pottery and the paint that was used for painting these. Then, she tapped a few more on her tablet and told us the total. I opened my wallet to pay for my purchase, but Mingi had a card in his hands, the cashier already typing in the total sum for him to pay.

“Mingi,” I hissed quietly, looking at him with a frown, “what are you doing?”

“It was my idea to come here—”

“No, it wasn’t.” I cut him off, fingers curling into the scratchy fabric of his coat as I reached out to hold it, “I suggested we come here instead of going to your studio.”

Mingi sighed and pocketed his card, already having paid, then turned his body to face mine. I didn’t let go of his coat just yet, “Yeah, but when I drove you home during that downpour I asked you if you’d come here with me. So technically, it was my idea. Initially, anyways, it really was.”

“Mingi—” I started, but soon swallowed my words as he stepped closer, invading my personal space. My fingers tightened more into his coat and I gulped, suddenly feeling nervous due to our proximity. He faintly smelled of vanilla, it was a fragrance I didn’t except to smell on him.

“Can you not fight me on this one, please?” Mingi’s eyebrows slightly furrowed and his eyes softened up and I—struggled to breathe for a second as I stared up in his pleading eyes, mouth going dry. He looked—adorable like this, and I did not like the way I felt myself getting lost in his soft gaze.

“Let’s find a table.” I muttered, forcing myself out of the trance he placed on me, and grabbed my mug and the painting supplies. Mingi followed suit as he took his own cup and followed after me closely. We walked further inside the café and found a smaller table in the next room, closer towards the window. The walls were painted a faint orange and were decorated by white stripes that created abstract shapes. The chandeliers were white and hung low, the place well-lit for those who wished to paint pottery.

I placed the things in my hands on the table carefully, and then discarded my coat on the back of my chair and my tote bag by the leg of the table, pulling my chair out for myself. Mingi followed suit, however, he managed to almost send his cup tumbling to the floor when he took his seat. His eyes were wide as he just barely caught the cup, and I giggled as I watched him while opening the box that held all the paint. Thankfully, the table was spacious enough to harbor both our pottery and paints as the cashier brought out our delicacies. She threw Mingi a lasting look before she hurried back to the front desk, glancing our way at times.

“This is going to be a tough one.” Mingi said before scooping up a bit of his cheesecake with his little spoon.

“Why?” I asked with a chuckle, choosing a thin brush to start painting some flowers on my mug. My cheesecake could wait.

“Because I’m literally sat at a table with an arts major, having to decorate some cup by painting.” Mingi sounded stressed and I chuckled as I looked up at him, amused by his expression. His hair fell in his eyes a bit, and I found myself absentmindedly reaching over the table to brush it to the side. Almost as if realizing at the same time what I had done, we both froze. It felt like time stilled around us as I watched Mingi with a gaping mouth, slowly but surely, my cheeks becoming the color of a fire hydrant. But Mingi wasn’t better off as he bit his bottom lip, averting his eyes shyly as his cheeks turned the faint color of pink. Clearing my throat and accidentally choking as I hastily pulled my hand back, I averted my eyes and fought for my life to not choke. Thank God the orange juice was right there, I quickly took three large gulps.

“Th—thanks.” Mingi stuttered, staring at the table as he licked his lips, “Uh, it’s gotten long, my hair, I mean, I have to cut it when I get the time.”

“Yeah.” I nodded, grabbing my mug and chewing on my bottom lip in embarrassment—God, could the Earth swallow me up right now? Why the hell did I do that?! “Yeah.”

“Do you think I should change it up a little?” I paused as I had dipped my brush in red paint, and slowly looked up at Mingi, “Do something fun with it—like going blonde?”

“I hate blonde hair.” I blurted out before I could stop myself. Nice one, idiot. Yunho was blonde while we were together, and thus, yeah, I’ve hated blondes ever since. And to be fair—and this is not me shitting on my ex—but that hair color did not suit Yunho at all.

“Oh, noted.” Mingi whispered, pouting a little. I sighed and looked up at the ceiling, hating myself for the weird atmosphere I have created.

“Mingi, you can do whatever you want with your hair.” I spoke up, leaning down to try and look him in the eyes as he was busy staring at the table, “My opinion shouldn’t matter. It’s your hair. Go crazy with it, have fun, try out something new. Really.”

“But do you think it would suit me?” Mingi was still pouting as he finally looked up at me, looking quite crestfallen. My eyebrows furrowed and I tried to imagine him with blonde hair. He was quite blessed with his skin complex as most colors looked good on him, but perhaps I preferred Mingi with dark hair—black hair, more specifically. Like he had it right now. He looked—good. Handsome, even. Completely gorgeous. Fuck.

“I think it would suit you.” I settled on saying that. He didn’t have to know my train of thought, like at all. Mingi hummed in appreciation, and I watched as he reached inside his tote bag, pulling out a case that held his glasses. He took it out of the case and put it on, pushing it up on the bridge of his nose. He grinned when he looked at me and I chuckled, shaking my head as I looked down at my mug, finally starting to decorate it.

“There goes the cool, mysterious, hot celebrity act.” I teased under my breath, not expecting Mingi to hear me. But he did, and he started laughing, giving me a cheeky grin.

“Not quite a celebrity yet, but at least you admit I am hot.” Of course he was smirking as I gave him a deadpanned look, about to argue him on his statement, but he didn’t let me as he continued talking, “By the way, let’s exchange our cups when we are done. The mug will be mine and the cup will be yours.”

I tried to fight the smile off my lips, “So that you get the artwork of a talented artist for free to sell for an outrageous price later on when I’m famous?”

“I fear you have misjudged my character, doll.” Mingi’s eyes narrowed playfully, but there was truth to his words. I might just have misjudged his character.

“I still think you’re arrogant and selfish.”

“Of course you do, didn’t except anything less from you.” Mingi winked and then looked down, his cheesecake forgotten as he started decorating his cup, tongue just barely sticking out as he concentrated hard on whatever he had in mind to paint onto the cup. I chuckled and shook my head before focusing on my own mug, the silence that’s settle around us comfortable, as always.

            Mingi and I were the quietest table in the café as we worked in silence diligently in, painting our own pottery. Mingi, at times, would hum along quietly to the songs that were played on the radio. Despite his cup being smaller and easier to paint, I finished painting mine before him, and so, I took the time to savor my cheesecake even if it had gotten warm and a little too soft. Mingi was hunched over in his seat, glasses low on the bridge of his long nose, with his full lips either pursed or with the bottom one bitten as his eyebrows would furrow every time he almost made a mistake. It was a funny sight, and I grabbed my phone without thinking much, and snapped a few pictures of him, leaning lower and even closer to his face to get the funny angles, all while Mingi remained oblivious to it. I chuckled as I looked at the pictures I had taken of him, looking at him when I felt eyes on me.

“What’s so funny?” He asked curiously, eyeing my phone for a second.

“You.” I chuckled and stuck my tongue out as Mingi rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair as he heaved a long sigh.

“I’m finally done.” He grinned and I looked down at his cup, taking in the yellow chicks he had painted quite—clumsily. Well, not all of us had the skills of a painter—not that it was an issue or anything—it’s just that it’s been long since I had seen someone have the skills of a—kindergartner, “It’s pretty sick, huh?”

I bit my lower lip to stop myself from giggling and nodded with my eyebrows furrowed, “I’d give it a seventy out of a hundred mark.”

“Hey! That’s too low!” Mingi said, looking offended. I chuckled before shrugging.

“You’ll have to work on your skills for a higher mark.”

“Fine, next time you come to the studio, I’ll make you sing.” Mingi raised his eyebrows, making me narrow my eyes at him playfully.

“Oh, I didn’t know we are in a competition.”

“We weren’t, until now.” He winked and then stood, grabbing my mug and his own cup carefully as he took it to the front desk for drying. I gathered the items we had used to paint the pottery with to place them back in the box, and couldn’t help it but sneak a glance at Mingi. He was leaned up against the front counter, grinning widely at the cashier as she spoke to him, using her hands for big gestures as she was probably explaining something. My eyes narrowed as Mingi leaned slightly closer to her, only to detach himself from the front desk and walk back towards our table. I looked away and busied myself with my glass of orange juice.

“So, we’ll get them delivered to our houses once they are dry and all.” He said with a smile, sitting down, “I hope you don’t mind I gave her your address too.”

“I don’t.” I muttered, chewing on the straw for a second, “I didn’t think you’d know my address.”

“Well,” Mingi flattened his hands on the surface of the table, “I’ve been to your house twice now. I think it’s only right I remember your address, doll.”

“Right,” I muttered, “you’ve been to my house.”

Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed, and I figured he didn’t like the tone of my voice. But before I could correct myself and explain that I had nothing against that, he spoke up, “Y/N, I—I didn’t mean to scare you or—I don’t know—make you think that I want anything from you. I mean—we are friends, and I respect you as a woman and as a friend, and I know we almost—kissed. But I—I don’t want you to think that I’m playing some sort of game with you to get—to get in your pants. I’m your friend. And even if I wasn’t, I still wouldn’t do that to you.”

Hearing him say all that felt wrong. I didn’t deserve any explanation from him. I was the one that’s overreacted that day, and Mingi was the one that deserved an explanation and apology from me for the way I have acted. I knew I couldn’t completely open up to him right now, that some parts of the truth had to be omitted today, but he also deserved to know why I had pulled back. And I wanted him to understand that it wasn’t his fault for the way I reacted to everything.

“Mingi,” I offered him a small smile and gripped my empty glass for some support, “If you think you are the reason why I ignored you, please, stop thinking that. It’s—we both leaned in, okay? We were both about to kiss each other, it’s not like you initiated it or forced me to do something I didn’t want to. And nothing even happened, for God’s sake. I reacted that way because I—”

When I paused, Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed, and he leaned over the table, gently poking my hand with his ring clad fore-finger, “You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not comfortable sharing it, Y/N.”

“But I want you to know this, Mingi.” I averted my eyes and took a deep breath, embracing myself for what I was about to tell him, “I had a boyfriend back in high-school who completely broke my heart, shattered it into pieces. And I know that happened a long time ago, and yes, I am over him, but I—I am scared people will treat me like he had treated me. I’m scared that if I let you close, you’ll just—leave. Like he did. And I know ignoring you for days was very shitty of me and I shouldn’t have done that—because quite frankly, Mingi, you deserve better—I just didn’t know what to do. I needed a few days to myself, to figure things out. It’s a bad excuse, but it’s the truth, and I think you deserve to know it. Since we are friends.”

Mingi’s face conveyed no emotion for a few seconds and I gulped, feeling nervous all of a sudden. Did he figure it out now? That I was talking about Yunho? That maybe I have started feeling something for him too, for Mingi? Would he stand up and leave? But to my surprise, a wide smile stretched onto his lips and he hummed, adjusting his glasses on his nose.

“Thank you for trusting me, it means a lot that you told me all that.” I bit my bottom lip, looking down at the table abashedly, “And I was never mad at you for ignoring me. I completely understand you, Y/N, and for the record, I have zero intentions of leaving you. And your ex is a fucking asshole for breaking your heart like that, tell me who he is and I’ll beat him up when I cross paths with him.”

There was nothing funny about what Mingi had said, especially since he was talking about his best friend, but the comically tough look on his face made me snort loudly as I shielded my mouth with my hand, trying to stop myself from laughing too loudly. Mingi started grinning like an idiot, his giggles deep, and making something coil in my stomach. When has Song Mingi become adorable instead of annoying?

“I doubt you’d want to kick his ass once you find out who he is…” I grimaced once that was out of my mouth, regretting it instantly. What was it about today that I couldn’t keep my thoughts and mouth in check? It was turning really frustrating.

“So, you plan on telling me one day?” Mingi wriggled his eyebrows, making me snort, “Like real besties gossiping and shit.”

“You never fail to make me cringe when you call us besties, Mingi.” I shook my head, taking a glance at my wrist watch. Oh, the time had flown away, it was well past five now, and the sun was going down. I’d probably have to head home soon to have dinner with my mother. I was becoming hungry too.

“Well, that’s what we are so…” He cleared his throat before slowly standing up, making me look up at him, “Did you know today we’re celebrating the Festival of Light?”

“Nope, I had no idea.” I shook my head, standing up too as Mingi wore his coat, “I don’t follow the events our city organizes.”

“Pity, it’s really pretty.” Mingi pouted, waiting for me as I grabbed my tote bag and pocketed my phone, “Should we check it out?”

“I mean…maybe?” I shrugged and Mingi beckoned me over as he crossed his arm with mine, making me chuckle as I looked up at him. He wasn’t much taller than me, but his sneakers had a thick sole and they made him even taller, “Where is this festival held at?”

“Just down the street, at the Citadel.” Mingi smiled as he led the way out of the café, waving at the barista as she blushed again, making me chuckle as I subconsciously nuzzled up against Mingi’s side, the air chilly as the sun had set by now.

“That barista totally has a crush on you.” I found myself saying as we walked down the sidewalk, trying to avoid crashing into the people that came towards us. Yeah, there certainly was an event on-going in the city, otherwise you wouldn’t see so many people out and about around this time. Everyone preferred staying inside after the sun had set, not keen of the cold nights.

“You think so?” Mingi mused, bottom lip jutting out as he narrowly avoided a child that was running around, “I didn’t notice.”

“You must be really dense then.” I snorted, eyebrows furrowing as I looked up at him, “She was constantly blushing, and she was totally looking at you with hearts in her eyes.”

“How do you know when someone is looking at you with heart eyes?” Mingi’s question threw me off, and I detached myself from his side, clearing my throat as I looked ahead, pushing my hands in my pockets. He was warm, it made me realize as the cold bit at my skin now that I wasn’t nuzzled up by his side anymore.

“Well, they have this look in their eyes, you know? It’s warm, and soft, and it lasts.” I explained, feelings my cheeks heat up, “And their eyes always linger on you when you aren’t watching them. It’s like…puppy eyes, I suppose? I wouldn’t actually know, Mingi, nobody’s ever looked at me like that.”

When there was no response, I looked back to find Mingi looking at me intensely. My eyebrows furrowed as we have arrived to the Citadel, the gates open for the visitors of the festival. The place was packed, this wouldn’t be so fun anymore. I would’ve turned around and walked back home if I didn’t see how excited Mingi was when I agreed to come check it out.

“There’s lots of people here.” Mingi muttered, and then walked closer to me as I led the way inside, a little baffled by his reaction to my answer. I just merely gave an answer based on my beliefs. It was him that was acting weird now. But as I looked at him, I could see it in his eyes that he didn’t want to talk about this topic anymore, that he wanted us to drop the subject. His last comment was a way to veer the conversation in a different direction. What was it about us today making everything weird? I sighed and just walked further inside, trying to avoid the big crowd which seemed almost impossible as it stretched on and on. The Citadel, however, was beautiful as it was coated in darkness, only the little paper lamps and fairy lights illuminating the place. It had a certain aura to it, almost romantic, and I soon found myself smiling as we walked down the cobblestone path, still trying to avoid people and stick close to each other’s sides. The air was chilly but the walls of the Citadel did a great job at keeping the breeze out, and the crowd certainly kept the place warmer than it was outside the stone walls.

I found myself admiring the décor in wonder, my mouth hanging open as I took in all the little lamps placed down on the ground, following the cobblestone paths, illuminating our way. It was truly beautiful, it almost felt like the scene was taken out of a fairytale. I found myself filled with excitement and happiness as I turned to grin at Mingi.

“This is so beautiful!” I giggled, absentmindedly grabbing the sleeve of his coat and dragging him away from the path and into the dying grass as there was a panel covered with paper, and people were writing on it. Mingi remained silent, but as I searched around for a pen or pencil, I felt him watching me, “What, do you not want to write something?”

“If you manage to find a marker or pen, I will, sure.” He said with a shrug, adjusting the strap of his tote bag before he pushed his hands deep in his pockets. I chuckled and looked around for a marker, but it was hard to see it in the darkness whether they were laying around in the grass or not. To my surprise, a little girl standing next to me looked up at me with a small smile on her lips, and offered me her purple-coloured marker, saying she was done with her drawing. I thanked her with a chuckle and turned to face Mingi with a grin.

“I found one!” Mingi chuckled and took the marker from my hands, being able to reach high up where the paper was still empty, due to his height. The panel was illuminated from the inside so you could actually see what was written on the paper. I watched him as he wrote on the paper, hesitating for a second, before he stepped back and handed me the marker. I raised up on my tip toes curiously, and craned my neck to see what he’s written. ‘The moon is beautiful tonight.’

I felt a smile spread onto my lips as I looked back at Mingi, who’s expression was serious and almost sad-looking as he adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his tall nose. I craned my neck back once more to gaze at the dark sky, at the moon, and indeed, there she was, beautiful and shining brightly. It was a new moon. Taking a swift glance at Mingi, I raised back on my tip toes and stood close to the panel, reaching up, just underneath Mingi’s writing. Thankfully, I could reach just bellow it, and I grinned as I quickly drew a new moon, adding a little shading to it and dents as well, creating the illusion of a real moon. Mingi remained silent as I took a step back, admiring our work. I handed the marker to another child as I fished my phone out of my pocket and snapped a picture quickly of our artwork.

“The moon turned out beautifully.” Mingi commented once we had stepped away from the panel to let others draw too, headed back onto the cobblestone path.

“Still, it’s not as beautiful as the real one, but I tried my best.” I chuckled as I crossed my arms in front of my chest for a second, avoiding a man as he wasn’t looking in front of himself as he raced down the path. Mingi threw him a displeased look before looking down at me.

“Your drawings and paintings are always beautiful, Y/N.” Mingi said and I found myself blushing, thankful that it was so dark he wouldn’t be able to see it. I uncrossed my arms and turned my body a little to face him. There was music coming from one path, the one which led to the southern part of the Citadel.

“Are you nervous about Friday?” I found myself asking him as Mingi veered us towards where the music was coming from. He looked at me for a second, and then shook his head.

“I’m rarely nervous when we have to perform.” He said nonchalantly, the back of his hand brushing lightly against mine. My heart did a somersault against my ribcage, but I ignored it.

“Oh, you’re such a cool guy.” I teased him with narrowed eyes, making Mingi chuckle.

“I rarely get nervous, to be honest, even less when it comes to performing.” He hummed, looking up at the dark sky for a second, “I trust myself and my bandmates that everything will go well, so, there’s no actual reason to feel nervous.”

“But I’ll be there on Friday, that still doesn’t make you feel nervous?” My question was meant to be teasing, part of our playful banter, but the way Mingi gulped and quickly averted his eyes told me that perhaps I hit the nail spot-on. Well, now I have turned things awkward again. I sighed loudly, chewing on my bottom lip as Mingi remained silent, the two of us walking down the narrow path as the music became louder as we were nearing the stage. Jazz music was playing, the lady who was singing had a powerful and smooth voice that carried over the crowd neatly. There were a few people dancing in the crowd.

“Perhaps having you there will make me nervous.” Mingi’s voice was barely above a whisper and I tensed when I felt his pinkie brush against my own, making me clench my hand into a fist. But a very quiet voice inside my head demanded me to accept Mingi’s subtle request, and willing my heart to stop hammering so hard in my chest, I relaxed my hand and slowly slipped it into Mingi’s. If he stopped walking for a milli-second, I didn’t say anything about it, and he also ignored it. His grip turned firm as he intertwined our fingers together, gently pulling me closer into his side as he smiled at a mother who apologised for his son almost running into us.

I gulped and kept my eyes ahead of me, too nervous to look at Mingi. Holding his hand like this meant nothing in particular, but it was a nice feeling. It made my cheeks warms and heart race. And I didn’t have to look at Mingi to know he was smiling like crazy, his cheeks just as red as mine as we came to a stop behind the dancing people.

Have I started falling for Song Mingi?

『It's you, ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh

I'm just saying it's you, ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

You, ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh

You're what I've been chasing

Show me where my days went』

❱❱ Next chapter

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❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

so...the festival of light scene was totally inspired by me and my bestie attending it in our city lol; it was sooo beautiful and the pictures in the moodboard were actually taken by us; also, her and I kept laughing about the romantic vibes we were getting, all in all, we had a nice time...and OFC we make everything about Ateez so :))

I wrote that LOL I'm like Mingi, tall enough to reach the top where people haven't scribbled onto yet lol

also, this is what y/n's outfit looks like for anyone wondering, except for the colors as they are the way I have described them in the scene ^^

[lynaferns]

The Forest On The Other Side

Chapter 1: I want to go home.

Ver. [ENGLISH / SPANISH]

EDIT: This fic is now on AO3

A girl gets lost in the forest and finds a misterious gate in the middle of nowhere. At the other side she meets a... very peculiar individual who seems to only want to befriend her and play. Everything seems fine. Until night falls and someone else joins to play...

Again, I appreciate feedback about the english adaptation. English is not my first lenguage and I still mess up sometimes.

This is in some way a more "joyful" story than BIOMáquina, still with its dark themes. I wrote this a year ago. By this I mean I forced myself to get it written down and ended up hating it and burning myself out. A couple of weeks ago I decided to reread it and I though it was pretty ok actually, so I edited it a bit to make it flow better. It used to be written more as a script for the comic I wanted to draw buuuut that didn't happen (cough stressed myself out cough forced myself cough don't force yourself to make content out of a hobby, a hobby is supposed to be for your own fun). I'm not completely satisfied with the final draft but I think is good enough for my first ever fic written.

I originally planned to make it a Y/N thing but that didn't last long. But I keeped the original idea of the first person POV. The Y/N stories I've read has always some narrator telling you what you do insert you in the story. I thought of making the MC the narrator, this way the reader can insert themselves like it's their story or they can read it as if someone else is telling them a story. This is also a bit limiting, since the narration is also the MCs thought process and sometimes I may skip details MC couldn't have seen.

AU, Magical forest, DCA centered, Sun fnaf, Moon fnaf, Elves Sun & Moon, OC, Selfinsert, Character & OC, platonic, friendship, slowburn (kind of), Moon is agresive at first, Moon is also a bit of a gremlin, Protective Sun (I think), OC is a potty mouth, Female Main Character, First person, Angst.

The first post where I showed this AU and my first sketches ideas.

Tumblr archive with all of the art, ideas and anwsered asks.

Youtube Playlist which I'm pretty proud of how it turned out :] It's in a specific order but you can put it on mix.

Note: even though I try to keep things light some things may be triggering for some readers.

CW: Anxiety, Suicide ideation, Implied death, Choking, Non sexual abuse.

Wordcount: 9,700 (It's not rounded, that's literally the number Word tells me it's at lol)

Welp.

Here we are again, in the old village house (yey...). Well, 'I am', my family won't arrive to settle in for another week. They brought me here beforehand a few days ago for organizational reasons. They took a quick look inside before they left to see the state of the house, if it needed any repairs and such, and they headed back to the city. While they finish preparing everything, I take care of the house and text them messages about anything that may be needed for when they return.

We haven't been here in years, the house needs some repairs, and I'm sorry for the spiders, but it could use a deep cleaning. We can't do a deep cleaning but I have been cleaning what I can these last few days, at least so that it looks decent... at first glance.

Well, it's not like anyone is coming to visit.

It's a quiet town, until the kids from the town next door come to make a racket with their bikes. They play in our field, scare away the cats and throw cans around. They are assholes.

Anyways, the people in the village are nice. The adults I mean, the kids I used to play with, I don't get along with them anymore. Some of them aren't kids anymore, we have grown up and are going down different paths. But those who are still kids... they're still interested in the only older kid in the town who listened to them and let them do whatever they wanted, to a certain extent.

I don't want them to come looking for me to go out and play. I've been avoiding them by saying that I'm busy cleaning the house and getting it ready for when my family arrives, but I feel like interacting with them less and less. That's why I'm going out to the woods behind the house to get lost for a while, as always. The kids don't go near the forest so they won't bother me there.

There is an area for tourism and hiking but not many people come, some police cars border the forest from time to time but they never go inside. The reports of missing people in this forest have been coming in for decades, only some lost children have returned but there is no trace of any of the adults who disappeared along with the rest of the children. The areas marked with signs are safe but you can't go out of bounds unless you want to disappear with those people.

And I, who right now am alone and with no one to notice my absence if I go missing, am going to head straight to the forest. Don't you think, I don't want to disappear, I just don't like people and I usually go into the forest but I don't go too far away. As long as I see my house in the distance, I know how to return.

I grab my bag with my sketchbook and pencil case, in case I feel like drawing (probably won't) and step out to the back porch. The outer sliding metal door that protects the inner one is rusty and difficult to open. It would be better to oil it but I don't know when it will be done, considering that the broken railing has had a wooden board tied to it for years. I already sent my mother a message talking about it.

I enter the forest and start walking around. It's hot, of course, it's early summer, but it's quite noticeable after being in the cool inside the brick and stone house. That's the good thing about coming here in summer, the houses are made to stay cold inside and it's great, sometimes I even need to wear a jacket. But outside I'm dying, the trees don't provide enough shade. In fact, some trees are missing. I used to have my routes memorized but time has passed and some paths have changed, some have disappeared and others have formed. I admit that it makes me a little sad... I began to walk absorbed in my thoughts not paying attention to where I was going.

I'm walking away, I should go back. I'm not going to draw anything here anyway, and it's hotter outside than inside so I'm gonna to turn around-

I hear screams and laughter in the distance, the sound of the voices produces me an immediate disgust. It's those kids from the next door village. They must have come to 'investigate' about the disappearances or maybe they don't care and they just came to be idiots-

They're getting closer.

I don't want them to see me. God. Don't let them see me. Anyone but them. They're getting closser. Don't let them see me. I can't go back home now. They're cutting me off. Of all the people who could have found me. It had to be them. No, please. Don't let them see me. I have to go further into the forest, I can't let them see me. They're getting closer. Don't let them see me. I want to leave. I want to leave. I'm getting too far. I want to leave. I don't see my house. I want to leave. I don't see the village. I want to leave. I don't see the kids.

...

...

...

Where am I?

Fuck.

Where am I?

I want to leave.

I want to leave.

I want to leave.

I want to leave.

…

—

Now I'm wandering through the forest. I don't want to go back. I want to get out of here. Even though I'm walking in a straight line I feel like I'm going around in circles, and I'm not going to get out of here now. Great. I'm lost. Now what? People who get lost in this forest don't return, no one has returned except for some children.

...

I'm going to disappear.

...

For now I keep walking until something happens. Maybe there's an animal that kills people who get lost, or maybe it's a group of kidnappers, or maybe I should stop giving myself anxiety and focus on getting out of here. Maybe if I find a field or road, or even the tourist area, I'll be able to get out of here and return bordering the fores-

...

There is... colorful graffitis on the trees. Someone has painted eyes, hands, stars and more on the bark of the trees...

What's this?

I don't know where I've come to, I didn't know this was here, in the middle of nowhere in the forest. The trees have red leaves like in autumn even though summer has just started... The first thing I thought was 'climate change's fault' but there is something that stands out in the middle of this entire flat area and it is disturbing me.

In the center there is a kind of circular gate made of stones supported by roots.

Okay, maybe it doesn't sound aaaaas disturbing as, I don't know, a totem with a human figure being impaled or something, but it's giving me a bad vibe. What is this place? Who built a stone arch in the middle of everything and why?

A bird appears flying from behind me and goes through the gate, but nothing comes out on the other side... wait what? how? The bird has crossed the gate, and disappeared behind the stone arch? ...I had to imagine it, it's not possible that that happened. I approach the arch but not before picking up a rock from the ground and throwing it to the other side of the gate.

It's still there.

…

For some reason the thought of going through the gate makes me uncomfortable, so I go around it.

...

...And the rock? It's not there.

I go back and look from inside the portal.

The rock is there.

...

I look from outside. The rock is not there. I repeat this multiple times. Rock. No rock. Rock. No rock. Rock. No rock... What?

Alright, this is weird, this is VERY weird.

Even though it is clear that this isn't normal, I have to go back, pick up a fallen branch from the ground and pass it through the portal. This time I don't throw it, I've grabbed a branch long enough to see it peek out from the other side of the arch.

...

Welp.

I should be seeing not only the branch, but also my hand sticking out of the side, but I'M NOT SEEING IT. OKAY. OK. ALRIGHT. IT'S CONFIRMED. THIS IS WEIRD.

I'm asleep, right? Or unconscious. I must have passed out from exhaustion from endlessly wandering through the woods and I'm delirious or something. No, wait, it can't be, in my dreams I'm not this aware of what's around me. Where am I?

A breeze begins to pass through the gate. It's getting stronger but not enough to push me. The leaves rise from the ground and float towards the portal, none slipping outside, all entering through the stone arch. Suddenly the breeze that had become wind stops. The leaves fall to the ground.

...

I look back for a moment, as if there was something behind me that could help me make a decision. Grabbing with both hands my bag strap I look back at the portal again. Okay. Alright. This is possibly the death of me. I'm going to cross. I'm going to go to the other side. I'm just one step away from crossing. I wrinkle my face and narrow my eyes before taking the last step.

...

Nothing has happened. Everything seems the same. However, I know it's not the same... Or at least it doesn't feel the same!

Well, I've already crossed. I'm gonna... keep walking, I guess, even though this is scaring me and I don't know if I'll know how to go back. For now I'm moving forward. The red leaves have disappeared several meters ago. It's starting to look like a normal forest, except for the multicolored drawings and handprints that I keep seeing on the trees. In fact, it seems like the trees are taller with every step I take. So high that I can barely see the top. I almost tripped while looking up. Whether this is the same forest I come from, I no longer know.

This was a bad idea. I just hope to find something that'll help me know where I am, a sign or the road if possible.

*cling*

...?

I hit something with my foot. There is a ball attached to a small chain on the ground. Oh, no, wait. *cling diring ding* It's a rusty bell, I think. It doesn't have the typical cross-shaped hole or slot, rather it has several holes in a pattern. It looks like it can be opened.

There's nothing inside.

?

There's nothing? But I could have sworn it had rang. I close it again and shake it.

*...*

Nothing.

I'm going to put it in the bag, it's totally a good idea. I'll think about it later, for now I'm moving on.

—

I've been walking for a while now and throughout this time I had a constant chill on the back of my neck, as if someone had their eyes on me.

*din dirring* I hear a soft tinkling in the distance.

Okay, I'm not alone, awesome, what do I do now? Do I say hi and risk the potential danger finding me? Do I ignore the sound of bells and keep moving? It's very possible that whatever made that sound is watching me right now...

“Hello?” Still nervous, I try to say hello looking around “...” “Is someone there? H-hello?”

“-HEEEEELLO!”

“AAAAAH-!” I cover my mouth with my hands as I turn to look at what the hell has greeted me back. I take a few steps back while I look at the figure of earthy and sunny tones who responded, he seems as surprised as I am, I think (with the scream I made, normal), at least it looks like he's surprised. He wears a two toned wooden mask... it looks like a sun, with a crescent moon on its right... It gives the impression of two faces merged into one... Damn, he is tall, he's almost doubles my size. He appears to have two skin tones dividing him in half, his right side being the lighter and the left darker, especially the arm, which also has a light-colored tattoo of lines representing a sun symbol that covers from the shoulder to the pectoral and to the middle of the bicep. The right arm is covered by a long fingerless glove that reaches to the shoulder and is tied around the chest. He's wearing baggy pants with leaves coming out of the waist and legs, some... cloth boots? with a long toe bending sharply and curving in a geometric swirl with a bell at the tips, a bag hangs from the waistband of his pants and falls below his hips. His chest and neck are tied by ropes decorated with hanging stones, metals and crystals, he wears a pendant that ends in a carved symbol of a crescent moon with rays. Some of the 'sunrays' on his mask have ropes tied between them holding them in place and some metal dangling. Some red ribbons along with bells hang from his wrists.

“um... Helloooooo.” He greets again, this time he lowers his tone of voice. I manage to react, I turn around and walk away. “¡ah- eh- Wait!” Nope, I'm not going to wait and see what he does with me, I'm leaving. “He-! Hey!” Nope. I quicken my pace and try to get lost among the trees, changing direction every time he appears in my vision angle. “Human? Human-! FRIEND. Can I call you friend?!” Nope, nope, nopnop, nop, nop, nope. “Friend! Hey!” God, no, god, god, no, why are you following me? “Look, I know what you're trying to look for...! And believe me, you're not going to find it~!” How are you still following me? Where do you come from? “Hey! Listen! Why don't we do something else besides running in circles!?” Noooooooooo... “There are TONS of other activities we could do! Like... HOLY MOLY, look at this stick! Do you like sticks!?” Leave me aloneee... “You aren't looking at it! Okay, alright, you don't like sticks, erm... what might be of interest to you...” If I don't look at it it doesn't exist. “Could you help me a little here?” I want to leave... “Look, no matter how much you wander around, you won't find the portal-!”

“STOP—! STOP FOLLOWING ME! LEAVE ME ALONE!” The sudden scream startles him again, making him jump in place. He stands completely still looking at me. I'm leaving before he gets angry.

“B-but I- ...okay.” I thought I heard him say before I left him behind.

It seems that this time he's not following me, finally... Although I'm not calm, he could still be following me and simply not be in sight. Anyway, I think I'm coming back? I hope I am. I want to find that portal as soon as possible and go back to the house- what the fu-? “WHY?”

He's there. Right where I left him. Sitting on a rock. Waiting. “...! I haven't moved from the spot!”

“Yeah- but- WHY?”

“Because I knew you were going to come back here!”

“...What?”

“Is what I was trying to tell you! You can't leave! No matter how hard you try to find the portal, it won't appear before you!” The Sunman exclaimed.

“…” I'm just about to turn around. In fact, I'm already turning around.

“N-No, wait! Please don't go!” I stop in my track and look back at him. He gets off the rock he was sitting on but remains squatting, almost at my height, a little below. I move back, keeping my distance. He puts his hands up. “Look, I'm not doing anything! I won't chase you! Just- ...don't go.”

“…”

“L-look, listen, there's no way it's going to show up! Well, not to you at least. But even if you find it back, it won't work! It only works when it wants to work.”

“...” Let's imagine that I trust what he says “Ok... and when does it want to be working?”

“...” “No idea!”

“...”

“...”

I'm about to collapse on the spot. At least he doesn't seem hostile, for now. “...” “Okay... Good... Great...” “...” “FanTAS-tic.”

“...” “You don't seem like it.”

*ಠ_ಠ* I could only look to the side in frustration in response to that. I looked back at him with concern showing on my face and grabbing the strap of my bag with both hands. “And... what... do you plan to do with me?”

He took his hand to the chin of his mask and with the other he held his elbow in a comical thoughtful pose. “MmmmnnDUN know! What do you plan to do?” He asked so nonchalantly. He ended up sitting on the ground crossing his legs. “You have a good while until the portal opens again...!”

“...”

“...”

“...”

He started swaying. The silence has become uncomfortable for a while now, but I can't organize myself on what to say, and I don't know if I trust him. I don't even know if he's human, although something tells me he's not.

“You could wait here.” He suggested, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Or anywhere else, if you want. I would recommend somewhere high like the treetops (for no particular reason)! If you're going to wait... But wouldn't that be really boring?” There was something in his tone of voice... “Being there... at the top of a tree... waiting... alone... with no friends to hang out with (can I call you a friend?). Aaall on your own until the portal opens again.” He looks aside for a moment “...” And back at me again. “With no one to be with you.” He repeats the head motion “...” “alone...” Wow... I wonder what he's implying, ahem. “Wouldn't you want to have someone...? ...Someone...keeping you company?” Yeah, yeah...

“...” I guess... “I-I guess I wouldn't want to be alon-?”

He rises to his knees. “That's what I thought! Do you want me to accompany you? Only if you want! But can I?” He clasped his hands together as if asking a favor.

“um...”

“Can I?Can I?Can I?Can I?Can I?Can I?Can I?” He approaches, dragging his knees on the ground.

I'm starting to miss personal space. “Okay! Okay, alright...”

“REALLY?” He started hopping and jumping around me. “OH, ohoho hO! Great! Oh, there are TONS of things we could do! Like... Like...!” He moves faster, doing bigger and bigger flips and jumps, it almost seems that he is very light, as if the breeze of air lifted him. “We could paint and decorate trees! Or we can also paint on rocks! Or paint leaves! Or paint us! Oh! We can tell stories! I'm very good at making shadows and puppets.” He moves from place to place with each sentence he says. “We can also play something!” It's moving so fast all I can see is the wind and the leaves it stirs up as it moves. “Anything! Whatever you want!” Finally he stopped in front of me half crouched. “What do ya say?! Hmm! Friend!?”

“Don't... call me like that.” Makes me feel awkward.

“Oh...why not-? Oh true, true! How silly, I don't know your name! What do you call yourself, potential friend?”

“...”

“...” “Aren't... you gonna tell me your name?”

I twist the bag strap “Depends...” I must say I'm a little skeptical about this. “Are there any consequences for telling you my name?”

“...Consequences...?”

“Like... I don't know... Mmm-by telling you my name I become your possession and cannot regain my freedom until... certain conditions are met...”

“...”

“...”

“Why- how-? Where did you get that from!?” It did sound a bit stupid when I said it out loud.

“I dunno- that's what they say in old children's stories about elves and fairies!” I just hope the embarrassment isn't showing on my face.

“Really?” I could feel his deadpan expression behind the mask.

I shrugged.

“...” “Okay... Oh, what if I tell you my name first? Will you tell me yours? It's only fair, I'm Sun!”

“...”

“Can I know your name now?” He asked expectantly.

“...How do I know you're not trying to trick me?”

“...” I must be driving him crazy with this “The only thing I can do with your name is treasure it in my memory.” He put his hands together as if he was carefully holding something and brought them to the forehead of the mask. I gave him a distrustful look. It doesn't seem like it made him desist “Please?”

I grip at my worn out bag strap “...” “ Fern...” I ended up murmuring.

“Hmm? Fern? OH, I like it!” “Sounds like FRIEND.” He emphasized the last word by making a gesture like jazz hands, leaning to the side and moving his head closer to me.

“Yeah... I think you are missing a couple of letters.”

He straightened his posture again. “Nope, I don't think so!”

“You're still not my friend.”

“Oooowwwwwnnnnnggghhh” He lowers his head dramatically until it practically touches the ground “nnnnnnngggghh, alright!” And cartwheels to stand up again “So... what will it be?”

“Hm?”

He straightened his posture and puts his arms on his hips “We have plenty of time, ya? What do you wanna to do?”

“I don't know, what do you want to do-?” Bad mistake.

“Come with me!”

“aaAAAAA-!” Before I knew it, he had grabbed my arm and I was being dragged through the woods. We visited several places and he offered me an activity to do in each of them.

—

Sun took me to a place where the trees were full of colorful paint “We practice painting on the trees here!” He said.

“Ah.” That explains the crossed out lines and the repeated imperfect shapes. By the look of it is also where he tests the quality of the paint.

“Do you want us to paint something!?”

“Not really...”

“Oh, would you prefer it to be on a rock?”

“Nah.”

“...And in star leaves-?”

“I don't want to paint, Sun.”

“Oh... Well, I can show you more places!”

“OkayyEEEEEE-” And I'm being dragged away again.

—

He brought me to another area of the forest, the ground here seemed more leveled. Not a single tree was straight, all of them were twisted and even seemed to be hollow. “How about playing something!? Like hide and seek-! No, wait, I can’t let you out of my sight.” He mumbled at the end “And chase?! We can climb a tree and see who reaches the top first! We have a place full of vines and it's perfect for swinging- and jumping from one tree to another-!”

“I don't... really want to move a lot…” With the way he runs without getting tired and me, who doesn't exercise... he would let me dead.

“Oh... well, theeen-”

—

We arrived at a place full of vegetation and humidity. Sun seemed quite excited... “This place is full of insects! We can look for cool bugs!”

“Mmmmmnoooo... I don't want to.” I had to tell him, trying to show as little disinterest as I could.

“You don't like them?” He sounded a little disappointed hearing my reaction.

“No, I do like them, some of them, but I don't like to touch them.” And I'm terrified of them flying into my face.

“Oh, well, it's okay!” He said brushing it off and we moved on to the next stop.

—

“I know that bird!” He stopped us on the way to point at a robin high up on a branch.

“ah.” I said as I removed leaves from my hair and clothes, and checked that I still had my glasses.

“He's a little rascal!”

“...” I think the bird is making us the equivalent of 'mooning'.

—

“Look fish-! Oh, they're gone…” The noise must have scared them away “We can go find more places to look at them if you want!”

“...” “...no, pass...”

“…”

—

“Look at this stick!” Sun had suddenly sprinted past me, picked up something from the ground, and came back just as fast, showing me the stick as if it were a sword.

“oh.” It's a cool stick, must admit it.

“Do you want to look for more sticks!?”

“No...”

“oh...” He looked at the ground in disappointment.

“Why would we go looking for sticks? There are all over the ground.” Specifically, in this area the ground was all sticks. We are literally just stepping on sticks right now. I don't see the ground.

“Variety!” Sun said pointing at the ground with both hands. A branch is heard falling in the distance.

—

“That's a deer!” He pointed at the deer passing nearby. The deer stopped to look at us.

“Yeah, I see.”

“We call 'em Adoquín!”

“...Why is it called Adoquí-?”

*THUMP!*

“…”

The deer smacked itself against a tree when trying to run away. It stands still for a minute, processing the hit, looks at a side and then the other, then runs off again but this time avoiding the tree.

Another *thump!* is heard in the distance.

“...” Alright.

—

“Do you wannaaaa look for pine cones? There will be some fallen around here. Oh! We can also look for mushrooms!”

I keep saying no to everything he suggests and it doesn't look like he's going to run out of ideas to pass the time. In fact, he's very insistent that we do something. I guess at some point I'll have to say yes to something. “...” “...okay...”

“Hmm?! Okay? Okay to what?” His exaggerated surprise offends me but I don't blame him.

“To... I don't know, pine cones?”

“...You don't look very convinced.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“OKAY! On the hunt for pine cones then!” I startle a little at the sudden shout. He makes a pose pointing in a direction, as if he were leading an expedition.

He takes me through the forest looking for pine cones. We aren't finding many, especially me who's not paying any interest. He tries encouraging me to put more effort into it but I keep looking at my boots.

We passed near a shingle river. I find a pebble at my feet and bend down to pick it up and take a better look. It's like a bluish gray, it has some reddish lines in the shape of waves, it feels good to the touch.

I hear the soft tinkling of a bell and feel a shadow fall beside me. “You like pebbles?” Sun is crouched next to me with his arms full of pine cones.

“…” I nod.

We go down to the river and spend some time collecting pebbles with curious shapes or small details of colors, lines, spots, etc. He comes over to show me one every time he finds weird shapes.

“…”

*rin* This time he's hunched over resting his hands on his knees. “You look… a little down.”

“…”

“Hey... we can do something else if you're tired of the pebbles.”

“...” I drop the pebbles I was looking at on the ground.

“...” He turns his gaze from me to the sky. It hasn't gotten late enough to be getting dark, but it's been a while between the walks we've taken (dragging me from here to there), looking for pine cones and then pebbles in the river. He looks back at me. “Oh, I know! Can I take you to one last place? A better place than the ones I've shown you!”

“…” I got up from the ground and waited for him to start leading to follow him.

We enter the increasingly thick forest. The trees are taller and bigger, in fact, I start to see platforms and bridges lying between the trees, I even see small shanties in them.

“Wait here!” He takes a run and jumps onto one of the trees with bridges. He takes three steps running up the tree, with a jump he pushes himself off and climbs with agility until he reaches the platform and climbs on it. “Just a moment!” It can't be seen from here but I can faintly hear some squeaks. I have no idea of what he's doin-

*rush*

“........eh?”

A rope.

A rope has fallen. At the level of my head.

“.......”

What?

…

He said he knew a better place.

No. It can't be this.

“Is it at a good height?! Can you reach it?!” He says...

It can't be.

A better place.

He can't be referring to this.

A better place.

A better place. A better place. A better place. A better place.

“Can you put your foot in?!”

“..........” For some reason what he said throws me off. “WAT-?”

“Can you put your foot in the loop and hold on to the rope so I can pull you up!?”

“..............”

“You can't climb trees, can you?! ...or you can?"

… “...” Oh “....It's...It's too high!”

“Okay!” Squeaks are heard and the rope descends to the ground.

I put my foot into the rope as he told me and hold on to it. “O-okay...!”

“Are you ready!?”

“Yes!”

“Okay!”

He begins to pull up the rope (which doesn't tighten around my foot as it supports my weight) and helps me up to the platform. (That's what it was for, obviously, what else would he want? I'm such an...) “Come on!” He says cheerfully, as always, and takes me over the bridges. “You seem tense... Don't tell me you're afraid of heights!”

“S-something like that... it's nothing.” He tilts his head at that but he says nothing. I have an unpleasant sensation in my throat.

We arrived at a high place with a view of waterfalls, I can't see above the trees. We sat on one of the bridges, resting our arms on the rope that serves as a railing and letting our legs hang off the bridge. I've thought about taking out the sketchbook to draw... but I don't really feel like it right now, so I just quietly observe the landscape. It is a better place, yeah.

…

I feel watched. I turn to look at him ...Of course he was looking at me. I don't even know whether to say something or keep quiet. ...I decide... not to say anything and look to the front.

“You... aren't very talkative, huh.”

“…”

“Not that it's a bad thing! Many people who have come here weren't very talkative at first either.” More people...

“...” “I have… nothing to talk about.” I don't want to talk.

“...” “Well, I do.”

“…”

“If it's okay with you, of course.” He laughed. Although something tells me that he is going to talk anyway.

“…”

“...” “What brings you to the forest?”

“...” Really? “I got lost.”

“Yeah, I already know!” He says between laughs “But what made you get lost?”

“...” “There was a group of kids I didn't want to get close to and I decided to go into the woods to lose them.” He makes a 'hum' sound and looks at me expectantly waiting for me to continue “And... I ended up getting myself lost...”

“...” “Only that?”

“...” “Well, yeah.” What do you mean 'oNlY tHaT'?

“...Mmm...” He places his hand on the chin of the mask.

“...” “What?”

“Nothing!” “...” “You know? You're the first human to visit the forest in a loooong time. For several cycles now…”

“Cycles?”

“Mhm” He nods.

“...What are cycles?”

Sun points to the sky “The turns that the Moon makes in the sky!” He emphasizes by rotating his arm in the air. It's pointing right at the Moon that's visible in the sky.

“Oh...” He uses the lunar cycles to know what day he's in, makes sense. “...” “So no one has been here in a while.”

“That's what I said! Well no, but yes!”

“A-and so the humans who came are still here? Have they been here all this time?”

“Yeah...! Well, no!” He paused. “They're gone!”

“What do you mean they're-?” He didn't let me finish the question.

“They are gone! They 'left'!” It sounded like he had given this answer many times already.

“What do you mean they left-?”

“They 'left'!”

“...” “...You mean...they disappear-?”

“Nope!” “...” “Something like that!” “…” “Mmmore or less…” He hesitated between one answer and another.

It seemed worthless to ask about the missing people. “...okay.” “Can I ask you-?”

“You can ask me anything!” A hint of nervousness escaped his tone.

“...okay. What is this forest?”

“My home! And the home of many other animals.”

“...” “Alright, and... how many are you...? How many of you live here? I mean. You have taken me everywhere and we haven't seen anyone of your…” I make a pointing gesture, spinning my hand around in the air. He can't be human, it doesn't look like he is. “...” “Honestly, I don't know what you are.”

“...” “There's only me... And someone else!” He looks away, as if trying to hide something.

“Oh... and who's that someone?”

“Oh! N-no, don't worry! He’s… just a friend… But it’s not important that you meet him or anything!” He brushes it off making a gesture with his hand. “Uh-um- How about we talk about you!? huh? What things do you like? Earlier, since you said no to everything, I thought you didn't like ANYTHING!” He continued talking without letting me respond. “I didn't know what to do if I ran out of ideas. I started to worry! But at least you're not one of those who spend all day shouting and threatening with a weapon in hand, ahaha...” He let out a nervous laugh.

“Um-”

“Well, you ran away screaming, yes.” He began to gesticulate widely as he complained “Like everyone-! No, not like everyone, some don't run, but those who, apart from running and screaming, attack you...! I mean...!” Something tells me he wasn't going to shut up and I was already half listening. “First they throw rocks at my head, then they insult me and run away. And I have to run after them because I can't just leave a human running around alone! No! I can't! Not in this forest! Anything could happen to them! But they never let me warn them!” He sounded tired. “And when I get them to stop running away from me, they throw things at me again and yell before demanding me to tell them where are they and how to get out of here, and when I explain it, they yell at me even more and accuse me of lying!” He turns to look at me with his hands pointing to his chest. “What reason would I have to lie?!” I don't know if he hasn't noticed or if he's ignoring the deapan I responded with. “UGH! I don't know what to do with those! But anyhow... I'm so glad we found something to do in the end!

“eh?” I snap out of my thoughts. It seems that now he is directing the conversation to me.

“The pebbles!” He sits turning his body towards me, leaving one single leg hanging from the bridge and the other resting on it. He takes out of his pocket some of the pebbles that he had been collecting with me. “I don't know why I assumed you wouldn't want to look for rocks. Maybe because you didn't want to paint them before... You left them back in the river in the end tho, I thought you would keep some.”

“Ah... I don't know. I didn't think I could take them with me.”

“You can keep some of mine!”

“No, it's okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“You suuuuure??” He insist.

“Yeees.”

He puts a pebble very close to my face “Suuuuuuuure?” Each 'u' sounding higher than the last.

“...” I push the pebble away from my face “Yeeeees.”

“mmmh... Okay! But I hope you don't regret it later when you don't have a cool rock like these and think 'Oh man, I could have a cool rock right now!'.” After a bad impression of me, he keeps the rocks in his pants. “So... Besides pebbles, what else do you like? Mm? I haven't been able to deduce much from today.”

“Don't know.”

“What do you mean you don't know!? Oh! Is it a secret?” He approaches and starts to whisper, putting his hands to the mask's mouth “I won't tell anyone, promise.”

“No. I don't know.” I looked to the side. “I can't think of anything... so suddenly.”

“ooow...” He slumps a little over the railing, looking sad.

“…” I hesitate whether to say something or not “...Drawing...”

“Mmm?!” He no longer seems sad.

“And listening to music, I guess.” “It's... all I do... most of the time.”

“Really!? Oh! I also like drawing! And music! But is that really all you do all day? Don't you do other kinds of things? Like reading! Or writting. Don't you go out for a walk or play with your friends?” I wrinkle my face at that last bit and he tilts his head in confusion.

“I don't go out.” “I have comics, but I rarely read.”

“Comics?”

“Um... They are stories but instead of narrating what happens there are drawings and only what the characters say is written.”

“...It's a book with drawings?”

“Yeah, but with a lot of drawings on each page, from start to finish.”

“WOAH.” He sounded perplexed. “That's drawing A LOT.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Ahh, I'd love to see what they look like.” He rested his arm on the railing to hold his head in his hand “Too bad I can't…”

“I didn't bring them anyway.”

“Do you normally carry them around?”

“No, it's just that I didn't bring them to the village with me, I left them at home.”

“...” “Oh!” It seems that something has clicked on him. “You are not from the village.”

“No, I'm from a more urban area. My family used to come to the village every year in the summer, but we stopped coming. Now it seems that we are trying to get back into the habit.” I sighed.

“Why did you stop coming?”

“...That's personal.”

“Oh... okay.” He let a minute of awkward silence pass. “Hey, I can bring some books that I have at home! I think you might be interes-!” He looks away from me to the sunset behind us, the sun is almost gone. “-ted...” I look at the sunset too and then at him with confusion. “...” “...oh...oh-OH, Oh-no!” He stands up abruptly causing the bridge to shake slightly. What could have he seen? “We have to move!” He extends a hand to help me up. “We have to start moving!”

I get up in a hurry on my own, ignoring his hand. “O-okay, to where?”

“Come, run!” Once again he grabs me by the arm and leads me over the bridges between the trees until we reach a tree hut. It's small and dark, it looks like a small shelter. He opens the door and enters “You'll spend the night here, stay inside, do not go out, try to hide well and don't open the windows or doors, okay? Here, there are some blankets. I'll come back later.”

“Wait wait wait! What? What do you mean you'll come back later? What's happening? Why do I have to hide-!?”

“Sssh-ssh-sh” He grabs me and covers my hand with his, his left hand resting on the back of my right hand. He begins to speak in a calmer tone, with a voice that I had not heard him use until now. “It's okay, nothing happens. I have to go, I'll come back, but I can't stay now. You hide, try to rest, I'll be back, I promise.”

“...” I take my hand away from his. “Okay.” “I'll stay, but don't take too long.” Please, I don't want to be here alone.

“Yes. I'll be back.” He affirmed one last time. I watch him run away and disappear among the trees and undergrowth. I enter the small shelter to inspect it.

*TAP TAP TAP* *PLOK* *TAP TAP FOOSSSH! *

…? A noise comes from behind me. I turn around and there's a pebble on the floor.

…

Okay.

I take out my phones flashlight to see better inside the house. There are what appear to be some trunks, small cabinets, and a trapdoor in the floor, It seems that there are corners and blind spots for the windows where the little moonlight that enters through the cracks cannot reach. It's freezing cold and I haven't brought my jacket. I leave the bag on the floor against the wall, I cover myself with the blanket and curl up in a ball in the most hidden corner I can find. I'm tired, I want to sleep, but I can't close my eyes.

…

—

It's been a few hours now.

…

I can't sleep, I simply can't.

…

It doesn't look like he's coming back.

*creek*

…?

*rin*

*tap tap, creek*

Sun?

“S-...” I pause before saying a word, I have the feeling I shouldn't speak. I remain silent and wait.

*tap, tap, tap, creeeeeek, tap*

*rin dirrin*

If it were Sun he would have already let me know it is him. That or he's playing a prank on me which isn't funny, but I'd better stay silent. From the shadow I look at the windows. I notice movement through the cracks, something has just passed through the wall next to me.

*dirriring dirring*

I cover myself more with the blanket, back against the wall, I stay as still as I can, I leave a gap between the blankets and the floor to see. A red glow sneaks through the cracks in the window and scans the room.

…

The glow is gone.

*tap, tap, rin, tap, dirring, tap, tap*

It's on the roof.

…

*tap, tap, tap...*

It moves again.

*rin *

…

It sounded on the other side of the wall.

…

…

“nghehe...”

It laughed. Why did it laugh? Whatever is on the other side of the wall just let out a laugh that made the hairs on the back of my neck and all over my back rise.

…

Oh no.

Oh no no no no no no no no.

I have to move. I have to get out of here. I can't stay here.

*creeek*

It came from the door. It's trying to get in.

*rin*

The trapdoor.

*rin dirring*

Where was the trapdoor?

*creek creeeek*

I crawl across the floor making the minimum noise, carefully feeling the floor, looking for the edge of the door.

*tap tap ring dirring*

…!

I found it. I open it carefully. It's too high. I'm at a very high altitude, I don't know if I'll be able to go down.

*rin, creeek...*

…

Fuck it. I slip through the gap quietly, closing it slowly, but that doesn't stop the door from creaking. I cling to the bark of the tree-

…

I left my bag. If it comes in and see it it'll know for sure that I have been there-

…

It doesn't matter now. I have to focus on getting down from the tree without killing myself. My fingers hurt and I can't put my foot down properly because of the soles of my boots. I feel like I'm going to slip at any moment. Somehow I make it to the ground. Still attached to the tree, I look up at the house. I don't see it-

…

A shadow appears from behind the tree. I press myself against the tree and hold my breath. It's looking for something. When he doesn't seem to look I move to a nearby tree, he moves to another tree, I move to the next, and the next, and the next. We continue like this until I start to get further and further away from him. When I think I've lost him I start running. I hide behind a tree to catch my breath.

…

I slowly peek out from behind the tree.

*rin*

…

It sounded above me.

…

I don't look up, I run.

“nnghehee...” He laughs.

He gives me a few seconds advantage before coming after me. The chase begins.

I run forward as much as I can, I hear his footsteps behind me but I don't look back, there's no time for that. I hear him laughing like a madman as he moves from left to right, from one tree to another, crawling on the ground, trying to confuse me, waiting for me to make the slightest mistake to catch me.

“Ah-” I trip. As soon as I fall to the ground I get up, ripping my stockings and scraping my knees, falling again, my nerves not letting me stand up.

“Nnhehehhehe...” Asshole. He has stopped running, he approaches by walking. I try to keep as much distance as my hands and legs allow me to move. I search desperately with my hand for something on the ground to throw. Finally my hand finds something.

I throw a rock at him “AGH!”

The rock passes by him, flying one or two meters away from him. He hasn't even moved, he didn't move a single muscle to avoid it, he just watches me still from where he is. I hear the nearby *pof* of the rock falling to the ground.

“...”

“...”

…

I get up and run. He grabs my leg and I fall to the ground again. He won't let me get up, every time I try he throws me to the ground. I struggle, I kick, but I don't break free from his grip. He never stops laughing, he is enjoying this. He drags me closer to him, no matter how much I twists, he doesn't let go. “ACKH-!...Hhhh-hh...-hh-h...” He grabs me by the neck, red pupils stared at me, I'm looking straight into his crescent moon mask (or waning, I don't know. Do you think I care right now?). He raises his free hand and his veins begin to glow a platinum color that extends to his fingertips. The hand approaches my face, I don't know what it's going to do to me, I'm scared, I don't want to look. I close my eyes, cover my face with my hands. I wait.

…

…

…?

Nothing's happening. It stopped. Why?

“Mun, nïe.” I hear Sun's voice. I open my hands a little to see what's going on. Indeed, it is Sun, several meters away from us... He looks exhausted. The one with the moon mask stares at him for a moment, until he decides to look at me again while bringing his glowing veiny hand closer. “¡Mun!” The Moonman looks at Sun again “Fehreh.” He seems to speak another language, I don't understand what he says.

“...” “Nïe” For the first time I hear him say something else besides laughing. Even though I can't understand him.

“Fïer pehgïer.” Sun responds.

“...” Moonman remains silent again.

“Bïelïe óubseh góuh...” Sun continues.

“Móu txehb móunsuvïe.” The Moon responds.

“Lïe bóu ¿Sóundïe mïesugïeb fehreh nïe txehtehrlïe?”

…

The air feels tense. Probably because of the hand grabbing my neck.

“¿Zkaóu fuóunbehb txehtóur tkaehnvïe nïe bóueh mehb zkaóu ïesreh rehuh óunsóurrehveh óun leh suóurreh?” Longest sentence I've heard him say so far.

“...” “Fïer óubseh góuh.” “...” “Vóuyehmóu óuntehrdehrmóu vóu óulleh” Sun takes a step forward “Nïe suóunóu fïer zkaóu ehtehkehr ehbu” Another step forward “Nïe sóunóumïeb fïer zkaóu txehtóurlóub... óubsïe” Another step “Óullïeb bïelïe óubsehn... fóurvuvïeb.”

“...” There's no response from the moon man.

“Behkehb tïemïe óub óubïe.”

“...”

…

The hand that grabbed my neck now grabs my shirt and yanks it. I grab his wrist as he pulls me to my feet and drags me to Sun, making me stumble. He throws me against him. Sun catches me before I fall over.

“Ska óubpkaóurhïe óub óun gehnïe.” The moon says something as he walks past. Sun puts a hand on his shoulder before letting him go, there's a pause between the two. The Moonman disappears into the trees. Wind and leaves are heard passing by.

…

He's gone. I feel dizzy. I fall down.

—

…

…

…

A faint light begins to seep through the cracks, illuminating enough to wake me up and make me open my eyes, I look around. I see my bag propped against the wall. I'm at the shelter where Sun left me.

…

My body aches, I have a hard time keeping my eyes open, it feels like I've been sleeping on the hard floor. No, wait, there are some blankets underneath me... It's still too hard to sleep well, either that or as I said, it shouldn't help me at all that everything hurts. After a while of staring at the ceiling I try to sit up. I emphasize trying. With every slight effort a pained moan escapes me.

“Oof...” Hurts.

*creek, tap tap tap tap*

Those wood creaks bring back bad memories from last night (which by the way, I'm alive, wow, I just realized), I can't help but cringe at every noise, I hear footsteps approaching, I try to move but the stinging pain prevents me from it.

*creek... *

The door opens.

Triangular shapes appear through the door followed by orange earth tones. “…Oh…!” “Early bird!” Thank god it's Sun and not the other one, or something worse “I didn't expect you up this early!” He says laughingly.

“ah?”

“How are you feeling?” He walks in. When he sets foot inside I lean back, towards the wall. “...” I don't really know why I did that. Sun stands at the door showing confusion with his usual head tilt. “...Arrr...re you okay, Fern?”

“...” I became tense suddenly. I really don't know still if I can trust him? He hasn't done anything to me yet but that doesn't mean that I can trust him. I don't know if he plans to do something with me like whatever that other one, the moon one, was going to do last night. “...ehh...hhh...h...” I can't get a word out, I'm afraid to ask.

“Mm?”

“...” I don't know what to say to him. My eyes go somewhere else.

…

He enters further into the house, ignoring that I keep my distance from him, leaves a bag he was carrying on the floor and begins to open the windows, letting in the little light of the dawn that is just beginning. He kneels on the floor in front of me with the bag. “Are you hungry?” He opens the bag and takes out an apple “Do you like apples?”

“...”

“No?”

“...”

“Um... I also brought berries... (It's what I had on hand coming here) There are... different types, you can choose” He brings the bag closer to me. I move further away. “uhhh...”

“...” I want to leave.

“You don't like them either...?”

“...” I don't want to eat. I want to leave.

“...”

“*snif... *”

“u-um...!”

“...*snif* *sob*...” I started crying out of nowhere.

“Ahhh...! D-do- don't cry! Ah-I-Um- Ca-can go find other things you might like-!”

I felt ashamed for crying and I put my hands to my face trying to wipe away the tears, but they wouldn't stop coming. “*hic, sniff, snif *” I looked away in an attempt to cover my face. I ended up looking at the floor, letting my hair act as a curtain.

“I can go in a moment!” Sun was already getting up.

“...w-want to leave...” I managed to get a murmur out.

“...W-what? Um...”

“...” *hic, hic *

“O-okay, um... If you aren't hungry... -we can do something else- uh- we can go look for rocks like yesterday in the river!”

“...” I don't want to do anything “...want to leave...”

“O-or we can do something else! Ah-bah-b-b-b- W-won't you like to go draw??! Somewhere, some landscape?! Wherever you want! We can draw together! If you prefer we can look for animals instead of landscapes!”

“...leave...want to...go... *hic, snif *”

“¡D-don't n- uh! ¡L-let's... um- let's not- uh!” He no longer knew how to order his words “H-hey, ¿Why don't we go to-?” He extends his hand towards my arm.

“I want to go home...”

He stops before touching me and removes his hand. “...” “...home?” There is a pause. He remains silent and unmoving. He finally speaks “Do you want…?” His tone became more serious.

“...”

“...to... go see the portal?” I look up slightly, I can't see through the tears and the fogged lenses of my glasses.

“...” I nod my head.

—

…

We didn't walk far until the red began to become visible. He brought me back to the portal. The same plain of red leaves and stone arch in the center of it all, as yesterday.

…

Sun has been quiet the entire time.

He advances towards the portal and stands facing it. He turns. “Come.” He extends his hand towards me. “You can pass through.”

“...”

I advance towards the portal. I stop before crossing. If it doesn't take me back home, what do I do? I don't want to stay.

A breeze begins to come out of the portal. The breeze turns to wind, the leaves rise, they pass through us. It's the same thing that happened yesterday when I went to cross. I turn to face Sun. Motionless, he looks back at me, the leaves pause in the air for a second as if time has stopped, the wind changes. From where the wind and leaves came now they come in, they push me towards the portal. I finally cross it.

…

Am I in the forest I know? I turn to look at Sun who stayed behind in the portal. “...Sun?” He's not there. I look around. He's not here. I've already crossed the portal, he must have left.

I notice a sudden draft pass by me. It's soft, like someone walking past you. I turn towards the forest, I have to start moving, I don't want to be here another minute.

...The air current that I noticed has lifted some leaves, they reach the trees, between them the wind does something strange, it forms a transparent silhouette. It looks like Sun, I can barely see him but I could swear it's him. The wind figure raises its hand and makes a gesture, it wants me to follow it. When I approach it turns around and walks into the forest, leaving a trail of leaves behind it. I follow the trail of the air current. Sometimes it stops to look at me, making sure I'm still following it. The red-leafed trees and the paintings disappear from view the farther we go. We crossed the forest until we arrived at the entrance of the town, near my house. There is no one on the street. If I walked into the house and pretended nothing had happened, officially no one would have noticed my absence.

I'm not one hundred percent sure if the wind figure that guided me is Sun or not, but I should at least thank him for bringing me back.

…

The air current has dissipated before I turn around. I look around, there's no one.

…

…

…

I enter the house, go up to my room and throw the bag on the floor. I go to the bathroom to wash. …I feel something strange in my hands but I couldn't say what. Doesn't matter. I change my clothes and get into bed, the tiredness of the previous night makes my body succumb immediately and I fall asleep instantly.

—

…

…

…

“ah...!” I wake up with my lungs begging for air. I need a moment to calm my breathing. I look at the clock without lifting my head from the pillow.

…

It is 12 midday. I rub my eyes and from my eyes I move to my face. I'm still tired. My body still aches. I stare at the ceiling.

…

My bag. I reach out to pick it up from the floor, making strange positions so as not to get out of bed.

I open it and search in the pockets. The bell. I put the bell to my ear. “...” I shake it.

*rin, diring diring*

“...”

I open it.

…

It's empty.

[btsmosphere]

Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 7: Spark to Life

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🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: “We don't have time to argue” “No, we don't”

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 5.3k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, swearing, weapons, dangerous driving

a/n: exciting notice! (maybe lol) the next chapter is pretty short, but it really was the best place to break up my chapters - so, as a result I will be posting it in the middle of this week! that's right, this coming week will bring two whole supercharged updates! first on Wednesday, and again on the regular Sunday😊see you then!!

For some days, the occasional crackling voices from that speaker accompanied your life when the boys were away.

Of course, you relished the time they did spend at home. Even though they were busy training in most of their free time, and out late on missions, they would come and chat with you while they made breakfast, or came to rest and watch some tv.

To them, it probably appeared that nothing was different between you and Jungkook. Whenever they were home, he took the chance to train with them. You knew he missed them now they were out so much without him. Anyone would have noticed as much, given the way he hovered around the receiver, always staying up after you slipped quietly to bed.

But once the house emptied, the smiling Jimin, raucous laughter of Hope or the fond smiles of Yoongi would be replaced by the stony silence of Jungkook.

Somehow, you were growing used to it.

Either that, or you would be firing comments between each other, no longer sure if it counted as fighting or having a conversation. Anything to fill up the silence.

You trained more too, your powers’ strength returning slowly even in the course of a week. And since that night, a sort of ritual had begun at dinner. Of course, you would have chosen anyone else’s company over Jungkook’s, but you had to make do. You would cook something simple, ordering him to chop up ingredients at the very least while he complained (“if you’re just going to criticise me, do it yourself!”). To this, you would remind him that he wanted to eat the food, did he not?

If anything, it was a cathartic vengeance for the power he held in the training rooms.

But anytime the receiver blared into life, the two of you would fall quickly into silence, drinking in every word, even the shortest exchange, of the boys which were out who-knows-where.

Tonight was one of those times. The two of you were sitting across from each other as always, beginning to eat.

The radio sparking to life cut off your conversation. Jungkook put his chopsticks down completely, turning his attention towards it. It was Jimin’s voice.

“Did anyone else see that?”

“I did. Hold on, I’ll go check it out,” Hobi replied.

Then an order from Namjoon.

“Yoongi, go with him.”

You continued staring at the small device even while no more exchanges could be heard. That wasn’t the usual stuff they talked about. Normally, it was just routine things, checking up on each other and confirming what they had planned.

But it was probably nothing. It was presumably quite a feat that they hadn’t come across any sort of difficulty in all the missions so far, and this would prove to be a false alarm or easily dealt with. You had seen what the boys were capable of, after all – just Hobi and Yoongi by themselves could be lethal.

That didn’t stop you from hanging on expectantly, though.

At last, the silence was broken. But not by what you had hoped.

“Guys? What can you see?”

Namjoon’s question was met with no reply. You couldn’t tear your eyes from the small radio, breath captive in your lungs.

Then, a jarring noise leapt like lightning from the speaker, making both you and Jungkook flinch. High-pitched, grating feedback, it faded almost instantly, but the scar it had torn in the previously peaceful kitchen remained.

Frozen to your seat, your food was well and truly forgotten as you heard Jin chime in next.

“Guys, get out of there.”

Namjoon’s trust in his right-hand man was evident, no hint of question in his voice as he reverted orders.

“Code two, hide the target and evacuate-”

“Yeah, we might have a problem with that,” Jimin cut him off.

A loud boom was audible, despite the limits of the small receiver that reduced it to white noise. Once again, it cut off.

It was then you realised Jungkook was on his feet. He snatched the radio from its spot on the counter.

“Stay here,” he said, back already retreating.

A second later, you were dashing after him. Reaching his side, you both shoved shoes on.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Jungkook glared at you with absolute incredulity, frown etched in his face. He didn’t even leave time to stare you down, however, already pushing past you and all but running down the front stairs.

You followed just as fast.

“I’m coming with you. They’re in trouble.”

“Which is exactly why I’m telling you to stay here,” he spat over his shoulder.

His foot tapped restlessly as the large front door slid open. The moment he had enough space to pass through, he was marching into the expansive garage, with you hot on his heels.

“I can help,” you argued.

Jungkook wove between the cars and stopped by a motorcycle. Turning to you, his face was set, frame livid and glare fierce while he dug harshly in his pocket for the keys.

“We don’t have time to argue.”

His tone was firm, clearly infuriated.

Just then, another concerning explosion crackled through the radio, standing your hair on end.

Stepping forwards, you swung your leg over the back of the motorbike and stared challengingly up at him.

“No. We don’t.”

The sound he let out bordered on a growl, but the next moment he had situated himself on the front of the bike, and a roaring filled the air as it shuddered into life beneath you. Left with virtually no time to react as he pulled away, you were forced to cling to the man in front of you.

With your arms thrown around him, you felt him stiffen under your touch. But then he was urging the bike forwards, and not a second later wind collided with your face as you shot from the base and into the night. The rapidly increasing speed left you to shelter your face in the back of his neck.

The cacophony in your ears and the rush of air that tugged your hair behind you should have alerted you that Jungkook was disregarding basically all existing traffic laws.

But you couldn’t care less.

With the blur of city lights whizzing past you, all you could think of was the speed with which you could reach the boys. The streets were fairly empty, but cars were dotted here and there. Probably cut some up, judging by the blaring horns at one intersection.

Thundering onto a wider street streaked with neon, your eyes fell on a billboard. As you sped towards it, the picture cut to purple fire and rubble, a live news banner scrolling along the bottom.

Then it was gone again, Jungkook guiding the bike around the corner and through more city streets.

The images set your head spinning, all the more restless on the back of the bike the longer you were helpless to do anything but wait for Jungkook to get you there. How was he going to find them? You hadn’t even been told where they were going. They hadn’t bothered you with mission details ever since you and Jungkook had been stood down-

“Almost there!” Jungkook’s yell was barely audible over the wind.

“Wait, how can you-”

“They’re protecting something called the Razer. Their plan B was to stash this weapon in some underground parking lot. You head down there, I’ll help fight them off. Looks like they were ambushed.”

“How do you know all this?” you finally made yourself heard.

“I snuck into Namjoon’s office, okay? I saw the plans,” he called back. “When we get there… you might have to fry this thing. It can’t fall into their hands, better that we destroy it altogether.”

You had no time to muster a reply before the bike was swinging around a corner and skidding to a halt.

At the end of this street, the sky was lit up. Purple fire blazed, just like on the billboard, but this time it was real, licking into the sky from the wreckage of a building on the corner. Other beams of light flashed, shocks of red and luminous white smattering the fronts of the buildings.

You got no more than a glimpse of a few figures silhouetted against this backdrop before Jungkook pulled you down to shelter behind the bike.

A hand on your shoulder keeping you in place, he peered over the top of the bike before returning his gaze to you.

“The building that’s been destroyed, the Razer should be in there. You should be able to make a way through the rubble. You’ll know when you see it. Do you remember training the other day?”

Trying to take in his instructions, you nodded.

“Use as much force as you can to overload it, like we practised. Should fry the weapon’s circuits.”

“Okay,” you muttered, taking a glance over the bike again. The street was littered with people, but no one seemed to have noticed your arrival.

“Y/N, they don’t know about you,” Jungkook’s voice recaptured your attention. “I’ll join the fight. It’ll distract them and buy you some time, hopefully give the others a chance to turn the tide as well. Don’t use your powers until you have to.”

He stood then, preparing to move around the bike and head into the fray.

His step faltered before he could go further.

When he turned back, a ray of gold flickered in his eyes.

“And Y/N… be careful. This weapon… if it strikes you, it can strip you of your power.”

Your eyes were locked for a long moment, his words sending a bolt of cold fear straight to your heart.

He took a breath, but said nothing more. An instant later, he was gone, the intensity of his eyes now no more than a mirage, quickly vanishing in your memory.

There was no time to agonise over it. Nor was there time to reconcile the implications of this fight, your first mission – your priorities turned to the weapon that was now in the open far from safe hands.

A flash of gold split through the night, sparks reflected in the bike’s mirrors.

Sucking in a lungful of air, you shuffled around the front wheel, slowly leaning out. Another blinding burst of gold showed you the outline of Jungkook, golden light firing him into the air. Sparks flew as he collided, wrestling, with someone halfway up a building.

The next moment, their figures plummeted to the ground.

Jungkook was the one who stood up again, the other staying motionless.

However, you weren’t here to watch. There was no time to stick around here. By now, others had noticed the newcomer to the fight; figures advancing your way down the street prompted you to get moving.

Ducking slightly, you picked your moment and sprinted the short distance from the bike to the edge of the street, flattening yourself against brick before checking no one had seen you.

All that greeted you were warring lights and the blur of fighting, backlit by the ever-raging fire.

Confident in being unnoticed, you sparked to life again, taking off on light feet in the opposite direction to the fighting. You raced around the corner to the neighbouring road, which was totally devoid of Bolt’s minions.

Judging by the short glimpses you had garnered so far, you guessed the group that had ambushed your friends were decked out with Bolt’s stolen goods – and were out for more. But you had no real idea how many of them had powers or not.

Or, come to think of it, how many of them there were at all.

All that mattered, though, was that there weren’t enough to have found you yet. You had run the length of the street, slowing as you reached the corner where the ruined parking lot stood.

Pressing your back against the wall, you edged around to peer at the damage. The fire was brighter here, making you squint. A few shapes darted in and out of view on the other side of the flames, but this side was still deserted.

This had to be it. Somewhere among this destruction was the weapon which had caused so much trouble.

Sheltered from view by V’s vibrant flames, you approached as close as you dared until you stood right in front of the rubble. You clambered over a few smaller chunks of concrete before you decided to begin.

With one more look around for security, you breathed deeply and raised your hands, palms only a hair away from a large block that used to form part of a wall, but now lay at your feet.

Biting your tongue, you finally let your powers out.

Remembering Jungkook’s words, you focussed on broadening the scope of your power, letting as much flow from your fingertips as possible. Blue bloomed in front of your eyes. A second later, the boulder began to glow the same hue.

Gritting your teeth, you propelled even more of your power downwards. For a moment, the rock resisted, only growing brighter blue. Then all at once, it gave way with a splintering sound that was swallowed up by the roaring of the fire.

With the sudden caving, you stumbled forwards, supressing your powers hurriedly to hide any light that would give you away. Just before you could trip into the gap revealed by the destruction of the rubble, you caught yourself with a hand on the ruptured concrete edge.

The fire did little to light up the dark space that now gaped below you.

Crouching, you peered carefully around. After a moment, your eyes had adjusted enough to reveal a concrete staircase, shrouded in the debris from the collapsed wall.

You shifted closer until you could lower yourself over the edge. Holding onto the remains of the wall, you dropped down onto the stairway.

It was seriously dark down here. To continue, you had to summon a small ball of light. Blue hovered above your palm, helping you pick through the dust and bricks that littered the ground from the building’s collapse.

On the plus side, it was utterly empty. You were clearly the first one to break through to this part, so you pushed ahead, following the stairs down as per Jungkook’s instructions. The plan had been to hide it underground.

Further on, you found the base of the staircase drowned in another pile of rubble. A larger slab encroached, looming from where it had been dislodged from the ceiling, lowering the height of the space. You didn’t dare try to move that one, however, almost certain that it was keeping a larger amount of debris from filling this corridor entirely.

Ducking quickly under that, you shot through a couple of smaller pieces before you could see a way through.

Not wanting to shift more stone than you had to, you wriggled through the gap you had created. The other side was lit with a wavering yellow light, making the stairs’ shadow flicker. A few more steps led down before you finally found the end to the enclosed space.

A blank corridor led to a door which hung off its hinges. Pausing when you reached it, a bigger, equally blank space opened out in front of you.

Though a small part of the ceiling had caved in the opposite corner, a pile of rubble collected there, the intact state of the walls told you that you were finally below ground level. The space was wide, but heavy with the oppressive air of industrial parking towers, walls strewn with graffiti. Artificial lights flickered in the corner of your vision.

The lights quivered even more as a loud boom ricocheted through the space.

That confirmed you were heading in the right direction, at least. Taking off running, you skidded through the next doorway and were instantly greeted with chaos.

Purple flickered and danced along the opposite wall – although you weren’t sure there was a real wall there at all. In front of this barrier of his own making, V was silhouetted.

Before submerging yourself in the waves of heat the large fire was throwing off, you took a breath. You couldn’t make out any enemies in the gaps between the flames, the light too dim and distorted by the blaze, but V shot another burst of flame as you watched. Your eyes were too dazzled to see if it had hit someone.

“V!” you called, hurrying to his side.

He turned with a jolt, arms still raised. Stopping in your tracks at his abrupt movement, you watched his eyes cloud with recognition.

Slowly, he lowered his palms.

“…How?”

You filled in the blanks of his low, startled question easily. How did you get here?

“No one followed me, I promise,” you stepped closer, “we heard you on the radio. We need to destroy that weapon.”

Nodding, V shifted his eyes furtively around before they landed on the only intact door in the place.

“There- mmph!”

V raised an arm to point, but was suddenly thrown in that direction himself.

“V!” you cried, crouching to his side, but your eyes were scanning the flame.

Hissing, V rolled over, clutching at his side which had been struck with… something. It wasn’t the same thing that had hurt him last time, but you knew the weapons Bolt was using were anything but friendly.

“Go… destroy...” he urged you, though the following groan of pain made you hesitate.

Gulping, you looked helplessly between V, who was struggling back to his feet, and the doorway he had shown you. Just as he stumbled upright, both of your attention was snatched by a figure breaking through the flames.

They had an arm over their face, grimacing at the heat, but they lifted their weapon blindly anyway.

You dived to the floor, scurrying away from the round of bullets strewn about the space.

Before either of you could retaliate, a shot of gold pierced the purple veil, sending the attacker flying. As the shots ceased, you caught sight of a silhouette you recognised darting behind the column of fire.

“Go!” V shouted again.

Meeting his eyes, you steeled yourself with a breath. While you wanted to stay and help against those enemies trying to break through the fire to get to V, with Jungkook to contend with on the other side as well, they were surrounded.

Now it was up to you.

You had found yourself with your back against the very door you needed to go through. Spinning, you wrenched it open to be met with another descending staircase. The lights had gone out totally here, but there was no time to waste.

Plunging into the darkness with nothing but your own light to guide you, you felt the temperature drop. Your skin was clammy, sweat from the heat above now clinging icily to your face, but you weren’t hanging about.

Feet finally finding flat ground, you looked around urgently until you caught sight of a shape ahead.

It was a large box, black so it nearly blended in with the darkness. Scrabbling to get to the weapon within, you easily blasted aside the simple metal fastenings.

On opening it, bright light startled your eyes once more. A clear sphere filled with what looked like bolts of lightning formed the centre of the device. The surrounding parts containing it were white, clearly a prototype, and resembled a gun.

Already feeling your powers bubbling up, you didn’t hesitate to place your hands on the spherical centre. A tingle flew up your spine.

Refusing to let fear get to you now, even with the knowledge of what this thing could do, you continued to push until your powers spilled from your fingertips. Blue lightning skittered over the glass surface, caging the still writhing light within.

Glowing brighter and brighter as you expelled more power, you began to feel something. Like the time in training when Jungkook had connected your powers and you had felt his golden electricity – except this, this was cold.

The glass shattered between your hands, noise and light smothering your senses as you were thrown backwards.

Your back met concrete, your own gasps heavy in your ears.

The cold was still there.

Blinking rapidly, you grappled to hold onto your powers, keep them flowing. Squinting into the brightness surrounding you, you found a brilliant white light had sprung from the weapon’s casing, seemingly latched onto your own powers.

Fear jolted through you. The light, whatever its power, was pushing back, trying to devour your own.

You had been trained for this. But – and you would never repeat this – you longed for Jungkook in that moment. The safety of the training room, and the usual guarantee of coming out alive, had all fallen away.

It was just you. Alone.

But there was a fight raging above you, all for this thing. You had to do this: for Yoongi and Hobi who could be anywhere right now. Hurt, bleeding? For Jin and Namjoon, wanting to come out on top. Jimin, fighting for V who was penned into the parking lot defending you.

And for Jungkook.

You had been trained for this.

Adrenaline buzzing in your veins, you pushed yourself up from the floor, power swelling in your chest. Letting it out completely, it charged through your veins until it was spitting sparks in the air, jaws gnashing against the blazing white that threatened to devour it.

One foot forwards.

The white lightning squirmed, as if trying to shake you off. You never relented. Blue advanced steadily from your hands until it was all that could be seen.

Breaking point. You kept up the pressure, feeling the last bit of resistance from the weapon-

Crack.

Upstairs, the fire V had lit was buffeted as if hit by a powerful gust of wind. Disturbed anew, blocks shifted in the rubble, pebbles raining to earth. The opponent Jungkook had been fighting was swept clean from their feet, his golden light harmlessly striking the wall behind the spot where they had just stood.

But as the enemy was forced to the floor, Jungkook’s attention was already elsewhere. Struggling to stay standing through the shockwave, he staggered back a few paces before he could turn towards the fire. The way you had gone.

The ground seemed to settle again, the blast leaving silence in its wake.

The first sound was his feet pounding on the floor. Striding right over the fighters lying on the ground, uncaring whether they were dead or alive, skirting around the fire they had been attempting to cross seconds ago.

None of Bolt’s pathetic followers attempted to stop Jungkook. They couldn’t deny the meaning of that explosion – the thing they were after was destroyed.

Normally, he might stay, try to stop them fleeing. As it was, he didn’t stand between them and their retreat, instead sprinting towards the source of the commotion.

V had kept his guard up, still eyeing the fire for movement with dark eyes. He caught Jungkook’s eyes as the younger stopped in front of him, eyes wide and panicked.

V turned.

Following his gaze, Jungkook found a doorway. Behind the open door was consuming darkness, still and silent.

You were in there.

His feet were moving again, steps turning to strides as he picked up speed, only to nearly trip over himself as he got closer.

You rushed up the stairway, catching yourself on the doorframe. Leaning against it, you panted for breath, but an exhilarated smile never left your features.

As your breathing calmed, you looked around into the car park. Eyes meeting Jungkook’s, you straightened up a little.

His mouth hung slightly agape. He had expected you to crawl from there bleeding, if the shockwave had been anything to go by. And for him to be the one that sent you down there-

“I did it!” you exclaimed.

Blinking rapidly, he clocked how long he must have been staring in shock.

Nodding, he hurriedly shuffled around in pretence of checking the area like V.

“Good. I almost didn’t think you were going to be any help.”

You had no time to decipher his comment before V cast a sharp gaze over the two of you. His usual silence had taken hold again, but Jungkook seemed to understand him.

“We need to move.”

Striding away purposefully, V left you two to scramble after him. Jungkook threw one more skittish glance at you, but quickly turned his eyes away to march after V.

The fire’s heat grew in intensity as you neared, smothering. V waved a hand and a gap opened up, the glaring purple giving way to pure darkness beyond. Hurrying through, you panted gratefully in the cool night air. Even among the rush of your battle downstairs, you felt a bit wobbly from the strain.

Leaving the fire blazing behind you without a care, your trio scaled the wreckage, this side of the building being the main victim of the destruction. The landslide of rubble sloped upwards, your path weaving between motionless figures, slumped in gaps between the debris.

V bent down to scoop up a gun, lifting it easily from a fallen opponent. Their hand fell uselessly back onto the rock.

Jungkook did the same, only he flung the weapons he collected back into the fire behind you. It spat as it guzzled them, but the sound grew fainter as you finally reached the street and hurried away over flat ground.

As the three of you sprinted through the night, the full extent of the battle was spread before you. Scattered around the burning building were pieces of wreckage, but you were sure they couldn’t have been flung that far if it wasn’t for human intervention in the destruction.

You were forced to leap over a large channel where the road had cracked, somehow.

Eerily still after the furore that had been raging only moments ago, your group’s footsteps rang loudly in your ears. Which is why the crunch that echoed through the wasteland stopped you in your tracks.

Whizzing around, you were instantly alert, feeling your powers stir.

But the air left your lungs, relieved by the blur of pink that was coming towards you.

Jimin tossed a mangled car to one side like it was nothing, only focussed on V. They collided, Jimin burying his head in V’s shoulder and desperately clutching him close.

It was only after pulling away that he registered your presence. His eyes flicked between you and Jungkook, a million questions forming in his eyes.

But he left them unsaid.

He started running again, hand clutched in V’s and leading him around the corner. Following, you drew further from the fiery glare in your wake. The shadows grew thicker, your path taking you off that road and further into the city maze.

Wailing met your ears, sirens announcing the likely arrival of authorities at the site of the fight – all too late to stop anything.

Though you were out of sight, you were only a few streets away. Enough to make you feel terribly exposed to the building clamour of sirens. A glance over your shoulder showed the distinct red and blue of emergency vehicles painting the dark sky.

Then you caught sight of something – someone – stepping forwards from the shadows.

Someone with silvery hair and eyes that glowed bright white.

You hadn’t really seen Yoongi use his powers. His eyes were truly striking, but he did little more than breathe and suddenly the world was plunged back into darkness. The colours disappeared from the sky, even the streetlights dying.

“Yoongi!” Jimin exclaimed, changing course to rush towards him, “you’re okay! What happened-?”

“We’re fine,” Yoongi spoke calmly, dazzling eyes scanning the road behind you, “just couldn’t get back- speaking of, where are we getting to now?”

As if summoned, a figure dropped from the now dark streetlamp. No one else could make a landing like that look so easy.

Yellow faded from Hope’s eyes as he faced you, grin splitting his face.

“Namjoon got to Jin alright, they’re on their way. Just saw them.”

Only the crunch of tyres gave away the car that swung around the corner. The headlights had been cut, whether by Yoongi or by Jin, driving, as a precaution. It blended with the shadows, sliding through them to stop smoothly in front of your group, assembled on the pavement.

It wasn’t until a door swung open and Namjoon stood from it that you remembered the fact you weren’t meant to be there.

This far, the adrenaline of the action had driven it from your mind. But the look Namjoon threw at you and Jungkook made reality come crashing back around you. Would he be angry? He was the one who had stood you down after all.

He breathed in evenly, gaze raking painstakingly over you…

“Get in.”

That was all he said, ducking back inside the car without another word.

As always, nothing could be read through his words. Sobered, you looked at the boys around you, waiting for them to pile into the car before you joined them.

Inside, you kept silent. Jimin and Tae were squished together in the back, Hope apparently cheerful beside them. By contrast, in the middle, Yoongi was staring intently out at the passing streets. His irises still glowed white, reflected in the darkened glass of the window. No trace of emergency lights, searchlights or even regular city lights found its way remotely near you.

This left you shoulder to shoulder with Jungkook, a frosty silence stretching between you.

With Yoongi doing his job so well, Jin guided the car silently back home. Namjoon’s calculating eyes scanned the lot of you through the rear mirror occasionally.

All you could do was try valiantly to ignore the firm press of Jungkook’s arm against yours. But it was impossible to drive him from your mind; in a way, this was familiar. His rigid frame, determinedly staring ahead. Anywhere but you.

Then why did it make you feel so small now?

You were well used to this kind of treatment from him, reciprocating it more often than not. So it was totally unfair how he could occupy your thoughts so relentlessly. All you had done was follow his orders. Rushed into battle together, yes. But you reminded yourself that he never wanted you there anyway. You were still just a hindrance to him.

Setting your jaw, you turned your gaze stoically out the window. A lone streetlight travelled past – you must be almost home if Yoongi felt it safe enough to let the light back in.

You had lost them well enough in the dark maze of the centre, and now you could throw them off your trail.

Through the reflections, you eyed the car packed with all of you. It felt right, with everyone there. Dimmed by the window glass, you saw Jimin’s arm slung around V’s shoulder, small smiles on everyone’s faces as he exchanged low jokes with Hobi.

Jin and Namjoon guided you home at the head of the vehicle. Namjoon’s glances were caring instead of cold, checking up on his fellow fighters.

This could have been different. Nerves remained about his decision, what your actions tonight would make him think. But you could rest knowing you had stepped in to help your new family, part of the reason you were all safely in this car now.

These events only bolstered what had been growing within you. These boys were your team.

Every single one.

Thank you for reading!! Good news for those of you dying to hear what Namjoon will do now, remember the next chapter is going up on Wednesday 29th💜until then, let me know your thoughts down below🥰

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@parapiop7 @taiwan0618 @11thenightwemet11 @junniesoleilkth @doctorquack

@oddinary4bts @svnbangtansworld @ktownshizzle @minisugakoobies @jksusawife

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@jk5t4r

[elenthyaolyenths]

DAY 14 - «On Thin Ice» Good Omens AU - Triptych Tribute for @blairamok  

Part 2/3: "Fallen Serpent" Crowley

Please, listen to this

Race

Life's a race

And I am gonna win

Yes, I am gonna win

And I'll light the fuse

And I'll never lose

And I choose to survive

Whatever it takes

You won't pull ahead

I'll keep up the pace

And I'll reveal my strength

To the whole human race

Yes, I am prepared

To stay alive

I won't forgive, the vengeance is mine

And I won't give in

Because I choose to thrive

Yeah, I'm gonna win!

Race

It's a race

And I'm gonna win!

Tomorrow, they will be together for the Grand Finale... See you there! ;-)

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Don't forget to 💕/ reblog ;-)

↓Come on, check the behind-the-scenes!↓

Personal challenge: a simple sketch each day

Goal: forcing me to keep things simple - inking, shading, just a few sashes of colour

Improvement pursued: to get the movement, the emotion, finding how to add depth, learning how to leave things barely finished

Max time allowed: 2 hours, as usual for my Daily Challenges.

Tribute Time, so I threw the timer away, lol :-p. As for my Fallen Angel Aziraphale (link), I spent more or less 3 hours on the lineart, plus 1h30 on the colouring/shading.

Crowley, as my « Fallen Serpent ».

“On Thin Ice”'s author Blairamok describes the Cantilevers figure as « one of the biggest fuck yous to physics », and so one of Crowley’s signature moves. As I was searching drawing references about this amazing figure, I found a lot of ways to perform it, all beautiful and impressive. I finally chose this particular one (I am sorry I don’t know the original performer’s name on the picture I used, but to me he seemed so powerful, yet relaxed and happy on the picture, so I couldn’t resist). Though I had to slightly re-adapt the figure to Crowley who is taller, thinner and maybe even more flexible (ssssnaky, duh).

I had so much fun re-thinking his clothes for my sketch. I used the scrumptious💕 black and red « Serpent » clothing that Blairamok created, and I added my own « signature move » : wings – or, well, feathers. As Crowley is THE Fallen Angel here, the feathers are slightly burnt, some of them almost torn apart. They cover his shoulder blades, then spread out as a unique short and damaged wing at the back of his right shoulder, go down on his right flank, then cross his back as they slightly go embracing his left hip. The Red Serpent Pattern is quite the same as Blair’s clothing, but it still continues on his leg and circles his right ankle like a leg shackle.

I am particularly proud of Crowley’s eye and expression. Remember? I dearly wanted Crowley sharing a glance with Aziraphale while he was doing his Cantilevers, and Aziraphale was supposed to glance back to him. I had to give up on this idea later – because the figure I chose for Aziraphale definitely couldn’t allow such a shared glance. (but wait for the third part of this triptyque, it will be posted tomorrow!)

So, my Crowley still has this ethereal, strangely happy, almost enthralled expression. It kind of represents my own interpretation of the Cantilevers figure : it’s a proof of complete trust, in yourself, in your skills, in your art and your environment. And I like to imagine that if Crowley is able to have such confidence in himself, then maybe he can and will trust his partner Aziraphale with quite the same strength.

Thanks for reading! See you tomorrow for the third part - our Ineffable Partners will be toghether, finally! (aaaand they will be not talking but whatever the acting will speak for them)

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[stolenslumber]

though the stars walk backward (sjy) (part 1)

Your first encounter with Jake Sim ends with ketchup on your clothes and his burger in his friend’s lap. The second encounter doesn’t go so smoothly, either. He thinks he might have gotten the hang of it by the third time, but as the saying goes: there is no easy way from the earth to the stars.

PAIRING: sim jaeyun x female reader GENRE: college au, one-sided enemies-to-lovers (the e2l part is short-lived lol sry), friends-to-lovers, he fell first but then they both fell harder? lmao, soooooo much mutual pining, fluff, romance, jake as a star soccer player but also loser physics nerd, mc is an assistant manager on the soccer team because of Convoluted Reasons WARNINGS: swearing, familial angst/generational trauma WORD COUNT: ~11.8k a/n: lol (said with no humor whatsoever) i decided to post the first half rn and when i say "first half" what i mean is that i intended for this to come out as a complete fic instead of in parts however school is slamming me so hard and i'm contributing by ruining my own life SOOOO who was to say when this would ever see the light of day if it had to be a full fic..... anyways part 2 is like 30-40% written but i probably won't be able to work on the rest until after my semester ends so maybe may? lol (once again w/ no humor)

“Don’t freak out, but I think the girl you stare at in the library is staring back at you.”

Jake freezes with his burger halfway to his open mouth. “What? Where? And I don’t stare at her in the library—”

Jay nudges his friend’s jaw upwards. “I said don’t freak out.”

“At least he didn’t turn in her direction,” Sunghoon offers. But he says it while looking disdainfully at the ketchup dripping from Jake’s burger onto the dining hall table, so Jake isn’t all that comforted by it. 

Instead, he repeats “Where?” through gritted teeth. 

“At your four o’clock, but I wouldn’t get too excited about it.” Jay squints. “I’m pretty sure she’s glaring at you, honestly. Okay, seriously do not freak out, but she’s coming over here…”

Jake tries to figure out what to do with himself as you approach with alarming speed— should he fix his hair, or tuck his shirt in? Damn it, he doesn’t even remember if he’s wearing something clean today. Before he can fully comprehend it, you’re standing in front of him, looking as pretty as ever in a silky dress that floats down to your ankles. 

Your mouth opens to say something, and there’s a deep furrow between your brows that Jake longs to smooth out, but then his hands clamp down on his burger, and— “Oh shit, dude, I’m so sorry!” 

Bright red ketchup decorates the front of your pristine white dress.

Your jaw drops, as does your gaze, fixated on the ugly red splotch spreading over the fabric covering your stomach. Everything you’d been meaning to say to him flies out of your head, replaced by blood rushing in your ears as your anger grows at the foolish oaf in front of you. “This is dry clean only,” you hiss.

Jake drops his burger in Jay’s lap, ignoring his friend’s squawk of indignation. Hurriedly, he wipes his hands on some napkins and tries offering them to you before cowing under your withering glare. “I am so sorry,” he repeats. His arms flail at his sides before he picks up the cardigan lying next to him and hands it to you. “You have a library shift coming up, right? Please feel free to wear this until you can get home and change. I have class until two, but I can take your clothes to the dry cleaners afterwards. I’m really so sorry!”

Your mouth shapes around air a few times as you work out exactly how to respond to him, but then your phone buzzes to remind you of your library shift— it is coming up— and you decide that you’ll deal with this— and him— later. Unhappily, you grab the proffered cardigan. “Two o’clock. Don’t be late.” And then you twist on your heel and depart, leaving Jake to stare sadly at the swish of your hair against your back.

“Are you gonna take my clothes to the dry cleaners, too?” Jay intones dryly from beside him.

Jake groans and sinks back down into the booth, covering his face with his hands and shaking his head repeatedly. “I can’t believe that just happened. I have to walk into traffic now.” Before Jay can say anything else, Jake tacks on, “And yeah, give me your pants.”

“Damn, take me to dinner first. Oh, wait, I guess you did offer me food.” Jay plucks the burger out of his lap and deposits it onto Jake’s plate pointedly.

Sunghoon lets out a whistle between his teeth. “Wow, I’ve never seen anyone fumble so badly. Like, seriously, that should be studied in a lab.”

“I got nervous!” Jake exclaims. 

Sunghoon chortles. “Clearly. Cute girl comes over, and you not only call her dude, but you also squirt ketchup all over her.”

Jake kicks him in the shin, hard. “Can you not pile on?” 

“Sorry, sorry.” Sunghoon holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Was that the first time you interacted with her?”

Unhelpfully, Jay pipes up. “Unless you count staring at her in the library interacting, I’d say yes. Speaking of, how do you know her schedule, bro? You’re creepier than I thought.”

Jake jabs him with an elbow. “My class got canceled once and I saw her at the library then, okay? Some of us actually have homework, Socrates and Warren Buffet.” He rolls his eyes at Sunghoon (philosophy) and Jay (business) in turn. “And again, I don’t stare!”

A few hours later, Jake stares at the back of your head. 

He’s not in his usual spot in the library, which is a round table near the windows on the mezzanine level— straight line of sight to one of the reference desks, but he did not pick that spot on purpose, no matter how much his friends like to joke that he did. He’s been sitting in that spot since the first day of his freshman year; he’d chosen it because he likes being able to see out into the quad, and the noise level in that area is perfect for him (not too quiet, which would make him fall asleep, and not too loud, which would just make him want to join in on wherever the fun was). He couldn’t have known that you would show up halfway through last year, get a job as one of the students manning the reference desk, and then occupy the exact spot his eyes tend to rest on when he zones out.

And he really couldn’t have known that you would be so pretty.

It doesn’t help that you’re in practically all of his classes this year, and he’s had the opportunity to talk to you every day for the past two weeks if he wanted to. He’s not the most shameless person in the world (Sunghoon), but he’s also not scared of his own reflection (Heeseung), so why couldn’t he have just introduced himself like a normal person on the first day of classes and avoided this whole ketchup fiasco?

Someone comes up to the desk to ask a question, and your head tilts toward them as the afternoon sunlight frames your face just so; Jake gulps and thinks, Oh yeah, that’s why. So pretty. And dizzyingly smart, if the way he sees your pencil fly over quizzes is anything to go by.

As if sensing his eyes on you, you twist around fully to catch him staring. Jake blinks deer-in-headlights eyes at you; if this was a cartoon, there would be a ?! above his head.

Your eyes narrow at him and you jerk your head in your own direction. Get over here. 

Jake gulps and straightens up before shuffling over to you. He kind of feels like he’s walking to the gallows, but on a flower-lined path, because his cardigan on you softens you around the edges, and you look right at home in it. 

“Heeeeeeey.” He raises a hand and waves at you, though he’s right in front of you. He winces before you can even raise a skeptical eyebrow at him, but then you do, so he grimaces. “Sorry, that was weird. Uh, hi.”

You nod curtly at him. “Hi. I’m done in two minutes. Thanks for being on time.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he mumbles to the floor. Luckily, you don’t catch it because you’re packing away the problem set you were doing in between answering student questions, which he chances a glance at because hey, he’d been having trouble with page 157.

Of course, you catch that. “What are you, twelve? Do your own work.”

“Wait, what? Hold on a second, I’m not trying to cheat off of you— hey, wait up!” He scrambles to catch up with you where you’re already halfway down the stairs. Panicked, he speeds past you and plants himself in your path, greeted by your look of supreme irritation for the second time that day. “I wasn’t trying to cheat off of you,” he says, more firmly this time. “I was just gonna ask you how you did with page 157, because I was having some trouble with it earlier.”

You scoff and slide to the left to go around him, only to be met by him mirroring you. “Are you serious right now? Get out of my way.”

“We’re going to the same place!”

“Yeah, and now I’ve remembered that I can pay for my own dry cleaning. Move.” You go right, and he follows.

“I’m still coming— I gotta take Jay’s pants there. I dropped my burger in his lap earlier when, well, you know.”

You go left again, and he follows once more. “Okay, for real? Let me go, asshole.”

Jake drops his backpack off his shoulders and hoists it onto his knee, rummaging around in it while still blocking your path. You think he’s officially lost it, but you’re also never one to miss an opportunity, so you feint to the right and then go left, but he’s faster and blocks you again with his head halfway buried in his backpack. Damn it, he’s good. You don’t realize you’ve said that out loud until he looks up at you and smiles sheepishly. “Soccer team,” he explains. Oh— that reminds you why you were approaching him at the dining hall in the first place, and real anger resurfaces in your blood. 

“Like I care,” you snap. You’re about to just shove him down the stairs and call it an easy day when you’re met with a crumpled piece of graph paper waved in front of your face. “What the hell is this?”

“Next week’s problem set! See, look, I finished everything except the problems on page 157, and I did get started, but I just wanted to check if I was on the right path, okay? I promise, I wasn’t trying to cheat off of you.” He frowns. “These aren’t even graded for quality. It’s just a submission for completion.”

Your eyebrows climb up your forehead. Though his handwriting is shit, you can see that he’s telling the truth. The fact that he’s doing the problem set for next week probably should have tipped you off in and of itself, but what surprises you is the simple elegance with which his calculations come out. “Hey, how’d you do that on number 89 on page 151—” You cut yourself off. “Never mind. Fine, I believe you. Can you move now? We’re blocking the entire stairway.”

Jake seems to finally notice the build-up of annoyed students in front of and behind you both. “Right, oops.” He zips up his backpack and slings it over one shoulder before descending the stairs with quick steps. He turns around and tilts his head quizzically at you when you don’t follow. 

Truthfully, you’re trying to decide if you should make a break for it and go up the stairs so you can take a different set of stairs down, but then you realize how childish that sounds. So, it’s with less dignity than you’d like that you meet him at the bottom of the staircase. But you don’t stop where he’s standing; instead, you breeze past him so smoothly that he finds himself staring at the back of your head for a few seconds before springing into motion after you. 

“Soooooo… dry cleaner’s?” He offers you a tentative smile once he’s fallen into step with you.

You seem to have made your mind up about something, because you turn to him with a dazzling smile that knocks the breath right out of his lungs. “Lead the way.”

“O-Okay.” He’s taken aback by your sudden about-face, but he’s not going to question it. 

He tells you that he’s happy to drive there, and you’re perfectly agreeable about it. You even start talking about the problem set that had been the source of such strife just minutes earlier. At the dry cleaner, you give him the biggest surprise yet when you ask for his number. Obviously, he gives it to you, and he has to pretend like he isn’t perturbed by the cryptic, almost manic look in your eyes when you promise that you’ll be in touch. 

But then you’re gone without so much as a goodbye, and it’s only when he gets back to his place that he realizes he doesn’t even know how you got home, and he can’t text you because he doesn’t have your number.

Still. A win is a win.

ball sports (derogatory) (heeseung, jay, jake, sunghoon) 

jake: this has been the strangest and possibly greatest day of my life

sunghoon: ur preaching to the choir ketchup boy

sunghoon: yizhuo told me i was hotter with blonde hair

sunghoon: so like hell yeah she thinks im hot but hell no now i have to dye my hair back

jake: ????? did i ask

jake: i’m talking about MY day

jay: she actually did not say you were hotter with blonde hair. in fact none of those words came out of her mouth 

jay: you asked if she liked your new hair and she said no

sunghoon: hop off my dick tf????

heeseung: so what happened jake

sunghoon: oh i can tell u this it’s old news

sunghoon: jake fumbled his first interaction w/ the girl he stares at in the library

jake: BUT she asked for my number and said she’d be in touch!!!!

sunghoon: right so u can pay for her dry cleaning bill

jake: OR maybe she wants to be friends

jake: to lovers&lt;3

jay: idk she kinda looked like she wanted to take you out when she was coming over to us at lunch today

jake: take me out… oh my god LIKE ON A DATE?????

jay: no like

jay: lethally

women’s rights and wrongs (you, minjeong, aeri, somi)

you: so you know how i was gonna confront jake today

yizhuo: yeah i heard that went poorly

yizhuo: sunghoon said something about ketchup????

you: nvm all that. i have a Better Plan. i’m gonna ruin his life

minjeong: cool

somi: noooooo he’s hot

you: HE RUINED MY BROTHER’S LIFE

somi: girl u have to let that go

somi: ur brother is 10 and made it to the B team for club soccer

somi: i think he’ll be fine

you: BUT HE SHOULD’VE BEEN IN THE A TEAM. I SAW JAKE’S BEADY EYES SINGLING HIM OUT UNFAIRLY

somi: he actually has like insane puppy dog eyes

you: anyways i’m going to systematically but subtly make his life more and more difficult as soon as i start assistant managing his soccer team on monday. but he will never know it’s me bc i’m going to be so nice and normal to his face BUT ACTUALLY i’m gonna make him my bitch

yizhuo: “nice and normal to his face” u have the worst poker face i’ve ever seen

minjeong: technically speaking if ur an assistant manager aren’t u THEIR bitch

For reasons you cannot fathom, the men’s varsity soccer team has practice on Monday mornings, at the crack of dawn. You’re beginning to regret giving up your reasonably timed library shifts where you basically got paid to sit there and do your homework and check out computer chargers to students every now and then, but these are the things you do when you’re trying to be a good sister.

Autumn has arrived abruptly— almost overnight, if the smattering of ambers and ochres falling from the trees lining the soccer field is anything to go by. You realize you’re dressed entirely inappropriately for the weather when your teeth are chattering and your eyes are watering from the sting of the cold. The dress you’d picked out last night for today seems laughable now. 

“What are you doing here?” Jake’s voice, so unexpectedly close, makes you jolt and flail around a bit before turning to meet his confused expression— head tilted, eyes wide, and damn it, Somi’s right, he does have insane puppy dog eyes.

You gesture vaguely at the field. “I’m one of the new assistant managers. Surprise! Told you I’d be in touch.”

“Speaking of— did you get home alright the other day?” 

“Yeah, of course, I just walked.”

He wants to be concerned about that answer— the closest student accommodations are at least a thirty minute walk away from the dry cleaner’s— but then he sees you hop from one foot to the other while rubbing your arms. You look so out of place with your heeled mary janes sinking into the dew-damp field with every hop, but it’s so cute that he has to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from grinning too widely. In a move that now feels familiar, he digs around in his bag before pulling out a spare sweatshirt and handing it to you. 

Appreciation for his kindness and irritation at his kindness play tug-of-war inside of you for all of two seconds before a particularly brisk gust of wind hits you, and then you’re yanking the sweatshirt over your head and breathing in clean soap and something else unfairly cozy. “Thanks,” you mumble. 

“Sure thing. Here, take this, too.” Jake digs around in his bag some more and emerges triumphant with a thermos. He twists the cap off and pours some liquid into the cap before offering it to you. 

It smells like… “Hot chocolate?” 

“With two espresso shots, because we have intro to Python right after practice today.”

You grimace in unison at that reminder, and you’re kind of glad that that’s the last expression on your face before you sip at the drink, because it’s perfect, and you have to refrain from letting your eyes roll to the back of your head. So he’s practical, makes delicious hot drinks, and, because you’re not immune to those big brown eyes, attractive. It’s a pity he was such a jerk to your brother, because otherwise you’d be swooning. 

But he must have seen something change in your face, because he lets out a giggle— oh no, it’s so cute— and hands you the entire thermos. “I think you need it more than me,” he explains. 

You try to remind yourself of your brother’s disappointment after club soccer try-outs last week, which you had seen from your totally not-creepy position, brooding inside your stepdad’s car over how to best connect with this 10-year-old kid who was just old enough to recognize that girls had cooties and not old enough to share any genuine interests with you. It was less creepy because you were there to pick your brother up, but you feel like you’re not any closer to him than a stranger (in fairness, you hadn’t known that he existed before last year). You’ve tried, in fits and starts, to get to know MJ better, to actually form some sort of sibling bond with him, but most of the time, you’re his glorified chauffeur. He tries, too, and your heart goes all fuzzy when you notice it, but there’s only so far that a 10-year-old whose greatest joys in life are cookies ‘n cream ice cream (understandable), and soccer (more confounding) can get before he decides that his Nintendo is more readily enjoyable.

The look on MJ’s face after try-outs last week had spurred you to apply for the assistant manager position. He was so sad about the B team, and you did the whole comforting, cajoling song-and-dance as best as you could, but he had just snapped at you that you didn’t get it, that you couldn’t get it. And then he had burst into frustrated tears, and you vowed at that moment to learn everything you could about soccer, as well as to give Jake Sim a piece of your mind. 

Jake Sim, whom you had only known as the guy that finished the first lab faster than anyone else in your extrasolar research methods class, until you saw him blowing a whistle on the sidelines of MJ’s soccer try-outs, looking like he had some sort of authority as he directed a group of kids, including MJ, in a series of drills. Later, you found out from Minjeong that Jake is a star player on your school’s soccer team, so he presumably has some basis for helping out with the local club soccer team, but you hadn’t been all that interested in finding out more. You’d seen enough from the way he took MJ aside after the teams had been announced, and MJ’s subsequent tears in the car, and you knew vengeance would be yours. 

Unfortunately, vengeance is currently offering you hot chocolate with two espresso shots, and he is distressingly earnest when he wraps your hands around the thermos and points you in the direction of the other assistant managers who are supposed to onboard you. So, you bid Jake a stiff goodbye as you try to ignore the warmth spreading from the tip of your nose down into your throat. It’s definitely the hot chocolate, but you’re annoyed at even the possibility that it could be connected to Jake. 

women’s rights and wrongs

yizhuo: so how’s world domination (ruining jake’s life) going?

you: hard to say. he gave me a sweatshirt and hot chocolate bc i’m wearing a stupid ass outfit and it’s cold as hell out here

minjeong: he said that?!

you: no I’M saying that

you: i need to change my entire wardrobe so i’m never caught unawares like this ever again. i let my guard down and this is what happens. 

somi: a guy is nice to u? yeah god forbid

you: HE IS BESMIRCHING MY HONOR (AVENGING MJ)

minjeong: jeez you get so victorian when you’re distressed 

somi: sorry are we ignoring the fact that he gave her a sweatshirt and hot chocolate????

minjeong: omfg YEAH that’s like. bf behavior

you: oh fuck there’s some sort of commotion going on out there in the field

you: omg they’re bringing a STRETCHER out

you: i gotta go guys ttyl xoxo etc. 

yizhuo: notice how she never responded to the bf behavior allegations

Jung Sungchan, team captain, is down and out for the count after being wheeled out of practice on a stretcher with a torn ACL. This is reasonably concerning to everyone on the team, but none more so than to Jake, who finds himself at the receiving end of a Serious Talk about leadership qualities and such from his coach that ends with, “... and that’s why we want you to fill in for Sungchan while he’s recovering.”

“Huh?” Jake tilts his head at his coach. He must have misheard; there’s no way they want him to fill in for Sungchan.  

“The seniors love you, the underclassmen look up to you, your peers respect you, and all the coaches agree. Sungchan will come back as soon as he’s able, but he won’t be able to actually play this season, so you’ll have to keep up the leadership on the field and off. We’re confident in your abilities. Good man.” His coach claps him on the shoulder, and that’s the end of it. 

Jake is still staring dumbly in his coach’s departing direction when you approach him with his cardigan, sweatshirt, and thermos. 

You had planned to just give him his stuff and leave, but curiosity gets the better of you after having witnessed the spectacle out on the field. “Everything alright? Who got carried out on that stretcher?”

Still a bit shell-shocked, Jake speaks without thinking: “Worried it was me?”

You look at him like he’s an alien species. “It clearly wasn’t, because whoever it was is much taller than you.”

Jake frowns up at you. “Okay, no need to go for the height. That was my captain, who’s gonna be out for the rest of the season, so now Coach wants me to fill in for him… I don’t know what he’s thinking. I mean, I get that seniority isn’t everything, but this feels kinda unfair to any of the seniors who could’ve stepped in for Sungchan.”

“How convenient to have everything handed to you on a silver platter,” you mutter. It’s an entirely unjustified thing to say— you barely know Jake or anything about his background, but then MJ’s tear-stained face flashes across your mind, and you don’t feel so bad about it. 

Genuine hurt and a hint of actual anger sparks in Jake’s eyes. “Okay, what’s your problem? I get that I didn’t make the best of first impressions the other day, but I apologized and tried to make up for it— you can just text me the bill from the dry cleaner’s, by the way— and I don’t know what else I’ve done to upset you, but I’m sorry for whatever that is, too. Are we good, or is there something else you’ve got against me?” His last question comes out almost aggressively as he stands up, bringing him not quite chest-to-chest with you, but close enough that you notice the perfectly defined cupid’s bow of his lips, and then you’re disgusted with yourself. College hormones have made you fallible; it shouldn’t sway you that he’s cute (and kind, and smart, and considerate, your brain reminds you unhelpfully). 

“We’re good,” you snap. “Here’s your stuff.” You shove the things he gave you into his arms before whipping around sharply to walk (stomp) away, pointedly ignoring his surprised yelp when your hair hits him in the face. Childishly, you think that it serves him right.

Sadly, your conscience comes back to haunt you approximately 18 hours later, at which point you’re pulling out ingredients and clanging whisks against bowls. 

Minjeong sticks her head into the kitchen to ask, “What are you doing?” 

You freeze in your movements, letting a particularly clumpy spot of brownie batter fall from your raised spatula back into the mixing bowl. “Cleaning,” you lie baldly. One unimpressed eyebrow raise from her gets you to clear your throat and put down your spatula. “Making brownies,” you amend.

“At midnight?”

“Yeah, I just had… a craving.”

Minjeong seems to consider pushing you on this, but the smell of the brownie batter wins her over. “Awesome, can I have some?” She moves to dip her finger into the batter.

“No!” You shriek, covering the bowl with your arms crossed on top of each other in an X.

Minjeong pulls her hand back and looks at you with alarm. “Why? What’s wrong?”

You sigh and retreat from the bowl. “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me. Um, I’m making brownies… for Jake—”

“For who now?”

“—’s soccer team,” you finish, turning to glare at Somi and her untimely entrance.

She only waves slyly at you from where she’s leaning against the doorway of the kitchen. “Y’know, it’s not really his soccer team. It’s the school’s soccer team, or maybe Jung Sungchan’s, but sure, let’s call it Jake’s, too.” She tsks. “Pretty privilege.” You give her a pointed up-and-down, to which she just shrugs.

Minjeong seizes you by the shoulders and peers aggressively into your eyes, ignoring your surprised yelp. “Why are you making guilt brownies for Jake Sim?”

“They’re not guilt brownies!” You splutter, waving your hands in front of her face as if that will stave off the gleam of interrogatory insanity in her eyes.

Drawn by her nose and her ears, Yizhuo chooses that point to wander into the kitchen, as well. “Who are the guilt brownies for?”

You groan and drop your face into your hands. Somi and Minjeong exclaim “Jake Sim!” in gleeful unison before dissolving into giggles.

Yizhuo decides to show you mercy, bless her heart, because all she does is come over to inspect the brownie batter and hum noncommittally. Of course, she ruins it when she spots what’s on the stove and gasps dramatically, “Guys, she made ganache! These are, like, mega guilt brownies!”

Back when the four of you first started living together last year, you were a mid-year transfer student whose sudden appearance had forced Somi, Minjeong, and Yizhuo’s two-room triple to turn into a two-room quad, and your guilt about disrupting their living arrangements had led you to bake them brownies from scratch— cocoa powder, chopped chocolate, browned butter, espresso, and everything. The girls had clamored for the recipe (your mother’s). Since then, you have happily moved out of the dorms and into a subsidized student apartment, but you each continue to make variations of the brownies for each other as peace offerings after a spat, or celebrations, or gestures of comfort.

And now, as an apology for being mean to Jake Sim, which is how you summarize it to your still-giggling roommates.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll like them,” Yizhuo offers, with a poorly-concealed smirk. 

“They’re for the team,” you repeat.

“Riiiiiight, and is the team with us in the room right now?” Somi wiggles her eyebrows at you, then her shoulders, then her entire body, and it’s so absurd that you tear up from laughing too hard. You had moved across the country for your brother, and you hadn’t expected anything else would come out of it, but now you have the best of friends, who hold a piece of your heart, and you, theirs. The thought makes you unexpectedly emotional, so much so that you begin making another batch of brownies.

“These are just I’m really glad we’re friends brownies,” you sniffle. 

Somi exchanges a look with Minjeong and Ningning, and then they’re all descending upon you in a hug; one big mess of limbs and love. It’s absolutely wonderful. 

The next day, you carry multiple containers of brownies around with you all day, looking for a chance to offload them (and your guilty conscience) onto Jake. It shouldn’t be this hard— you share four out of five classes with him this semester, and you’re supposed to be at two soccer practices a week in rotation with the other assistant managers, as well as every other game. But everywhere you turn, Jake is either slipping out of class before you can get to him, or he arrives just before the professor starts lecturing and you’re already seated with your pencil poised over paper. 

You’re not on rotation for practice today, so you spend a rather agitated handful of hours doing schoolwork after classes, until you get a last-minute text from your stepdad asking if you can pick MJ up.

Of course, you get the shock of your life when you get to the address your stepdad sent you and see Jake Sim playing soccer with your brother at some local park. You’re not alone in your surprise; Jake makes a full stop upon catching sight of you and gets a soccer ball to the head for it, knocking him fully down to the ground. Thankfully, he pops back up immediately, just in time to catch you speeding past him to fuss over MJ. 

“What on earth are you doing here alone?!” You exclaim to your brother, looking around as if the rest of his soccer team will materialize out of thin air. “Did that bad man lure you out here?”

Jake’s eyes bulge out of his head as he looks around at the zero other people on the field before pointing to himself and mouthing Me? at you. 

MJ just shrugs and points at Jake. “Practicing with Jake hyung.”

“Jake hyung?” You squint at the offender in question.

“Yeah, he’s been helping me get ready for next season’s tryouts.” MJ scuffs the toe of his shoe against the grass, clearly embarrassed by your fretting. 

“Hey, Minjae, is this your… sister?” Jake asks tentatively. The question itself is innocent enough, but irritation and jealousy set your blood buzzing; MJ rarely lets you call him Minjae. He claims MJ is cooler, and he doesn’t let your mother call him Minjae, either, but your stepdad calls him Minjae freely and with an abundance of returned affection.

“Yep.” MJ pops the p as he looks between the two of you, now sensing that whatever is going on here is larger than him. “Uh, can I go to the bathroom?”

“Sure.” You and Jake respond in unison, which makes you glare and him blush.

“Okay, cool. See ya.” MJ races off to the porta-potties with unusual enthusiasm, but you suppose he’d rather be there than here to witness the breakdown of normal social interaction between you and Jake.

The instant MJ is out of earshot, you whirl on Jake and demand, “How do you know my brother?” 

Instinctually, he puts his hands up in surrender. “He looked like he was pretty down on himself after club try-outs last week, so I talked to him and offered to run drills with him, like, once a week, okay? I’m not some…. bad man!”

“Oh.” You deflate in front of his eyes as you realize the depths of your misunderstanding. “Well… okay.”

He eyes you apprehensively. “We’re good?” 

“Yeah, yeah, we’re… good.” The words remind you of the acerbic encounter you had with him the day before, which reminds you of the guilt brownies, which reminds you of the guilt. Like everything else in your life, you decide to get over this with clinical efficiency. “Listen, I owe you an apology. Probably several. I was picking up MJ from try-outs last week, and I saw him with you, and then he was crying in the car, so I jumped to conclusions about you and your role in the try-outs. That’s why I came over to you at lunch the other day, to tell you off.” You take a deep breath and barrel on, mindful of your brother’s likely imminent return. “I shouldn’t have assumed. I’m sorry, Jake.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay, really, don’t worry about it.” Jake rubs the back of his neck and looks anywhere but at you. He’s never seen you like this before— contrite, sincere, and concentrating so fully on him that he wants to either hide his face from you or do something even stupider, like ask you out. Instead, what comes out of his mouth is, “I think the dry cleaning is ready, if you want to go pick it up right now. With me. Or without me, I guess. I can just, like, be there. And you’ll be there, too. But we’ll be there separately. Wow, should I stop talking?”

That prompts laughter from you, and his breath catches in his throat at the wonder of watching delight unfold across your face. In that moment, sunlight emerges from behind a patchwork of clouds, but it’s your laughter that warms him from head to toe.

“Let me just drop MJ off at home, and then I’ll come with you to the dry cleaner. Together, not separately.” Your eyes twinkle in residual amusement at him, and he lets himself break out into a goofy grin.

MJ makes his presence known by loudly asking why the two of you are just standing there smiling at each other, and if Jake can walk home with you all. Jake manufactures a coughing fit and you ignore MJ’s first question, but you say yes to the second one. 

MJ cheers and starts tugging Jake along in the direction of your mother and stepdad’s house. You trail behind them in bemused amusement; they talk about soccer the whole time, and Jake is playful and patient but never condescending with the boy that clearly idolizes him. Watching Jake interact with your brother is bittersweet— it’s so easy between them, in a way that you’ve never experienced yourself. By the time you reach the house, MJ has extracted a promise from you both that he can attend Jake’s next home game.

At the door, MJ fist-bumps Jake and is magnanimous enough to allow you to kiss his cheek goodbye. You send him off with a, “Be kind!” and he hollers back, “I know!”

And then it’s just you and Jake, who’s looking at you with a newfound curiosity that makes you nervous. “What?” You snap, and then you instantly backtrack. “Sorry, I, uh, I’m still a little wound up from—” thinking you were a jerk— “… earlier.”

“All good.” Jake tips his head towards the sidewalk, and you realize you’re still on the doorstep of MJ’s house. You follow Jake onto the sidewalk, where he asks, “Do you always tell him to be kind?” 

It’s the last thing you expected him to ask. “Um, yeah. Not that he’s a mean kid or anything, but my mother always told me to be good, and I’ve heard her say the same thing to him, so I just… want him to hear something different.” Because be good just means be quiet and perform well, and you already go to therapy every other week for that. 

Jake beams at you. “That’s awesome. You’re a great sister.”

He’s saying all the things that would be right for someone else, but for you, they’re all the wrong things. Still, there’s no way he could know that, and it’s not his fault, so you try to tone down your wince. “Thanks, but I barely know how to talk to MJ. He’s old enough to find it lame to just hang out with his sister, and we don’t have a lot in common. That’s why I applied to be an assistant manager, actually— I’m trying to learn more about soccer.”

“Sounds like best-sibling-of-the-year behavior to me. Seriously, I have an older brother— he’s the one who introduced me to soccer— and we have a great relationship, but he never joined the orchestra for me, or anything like that.” Jake nudges your shoulder with his. “And hey, if you want to learn more about soccer, you can ask me anything, anytime.” 

He turns eyes so kind and earnest on you that your thought process halts and then restarts like a broken record. You have to grab onto the closest coherent thought before you stare at him for too long. “You were in the orchestra?”

Jake wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, but I was pretty average with a violin. Dumb jock, you know?” He smiles at you to let you know he’s joking. 

Thankfully, you smile right back. “Soooo true. Remind me how long the first extrasolar research methods lab took you?”

He blushes and waves you off. “Ah, well, that’s the kind of stuff I want to do in the future, so I better get good at it, right?” He lowers his voice, even though there’s no one around who could possibly overhear his nerdy confession. “Honestly, I cried a little when the first images from the James Webb telescope came out.” 

In equally hushed tones, you respond, “Me, too.”

Jake grins. “Aerospace engineering, right? Your brother did say that his sister loves machines and stars.”

The fact that MJ talked about you at all is enough to have you floating on air. “Yeah, that’s me. And hey, this is us.” You point to the sign for the dry cleaner. 

“Oh. We got here fast.” Jake tries— and likely fails— not to sound too disappointed. But you’ve already gone ahead into the store, so he leaves behind his foolish desires (walking back to where you’d dropped your brother off and then here again, if only to spend more time with you) at the door. 

In the store, Jake gives Jay’s pants a perfunctory once-over to check that they’re fine, but his attention is mainly focused on your dress— it comes back perfectly clear of any ketchup stains, to which he lets out a loud, relieved sigh.

You eye him strangely for that reaction. “I know I was a bit high-strung about it at the time, but it wouldn’t have been the end of the world if my dress was ruined. I wouldn’t, like, come after you with a pitchfork.”

He pauses for a second to let that image play out in his mind. “Y’know, I didn’t think you would, but now that you’ve brought up the possibility…” He grins when you laugh and shove lightly at his shoulder. “But seriously, it would have been a shame. You looked really nice in that dress.” The words tumble thoughtlessly out of his mouth, but he can’t bring himself to regret it when he sees your mouth part in surprise before flattening into a tiny, pleased smile. 

“I would hope so. I have excellent taste,” you say, trying to sound haughty and ending up somewhere near flustered. There’s heat in your cheeks; you’re stuck between wanting to wipe that boyish smirk off of his face and wanting to frame the way it looks. 

“So… are you headed back to your house?” Jake tries out what he wants to say next in his head, first: And would you mind if I walked you there?

“Oh, yeah. It’s getting kind of late. I think your friend— Sunghoon? Yizhuo invited him over for dinner tonight, actually, if you… also want to come.” You cringe at how awkward that sounded. “I mean, not that it’s going to be a big thing, or anything. Minjeong and Somi are making an insane amount of mac ‘n cheese, because there was a really good sale at the grocery store, so we’re just trying to offload it, really. There’s gonna be a bunch of people there.”

Jake’s head tilts in confusion. “Your friends live with your family?”

“What? No, we’re in an apartment on Maplewood. MJ lives with his parents, but I don’t live there.” You grimace. “I go there for family dinner once a week, so that’s where I went after we came to the dry cleaner for the first time. But that’s only on Wednesdays, thank god.”

Jake hums noncommittally. There’s more he’d like to ask, to know, to understand, but then his stomach growls, and he laughs sheepishly. “I’ll gladly take you up on the mac ‘n cheese. I need some fodder to tease Sunghoon with, anyways. Seeing him with Yizhuo always does it.”

“The will-they-won’t-they childhood-menaces-to-who-knows show?”

“Exactly. So, tell me about aerospace engineering…”

The walk to your apartment is long by any measurement, but it passes by quickly. Jake asks you genuine questions about propulsion systems and your friends, and you learn that he loves superhero movies, his family dog, and poetry, of all things. He’s endearingly bashful about the last one.

“Physics is pretty dry at the undergraduate level, even when it’s astrophysics. But the way that poets talk about the stars… It takes my breath away, a little bit. Reminds me that it’s a marvel to just look heavenward, I guess.” He rubs the tip of his reddening nose. “Silly, right?”

“Not at all.” Romantic, actually, is what you want to tell him. Romantic, because he talks about space like it’s a reverential thing, like a telescope can be a paintbrush through the night sky, like constellations are more than just sets of stars connected by the human eye. But you’ve reached your apartment, so all you say is, “Hold on, let me get my keys.”

“Oh, hey, I can help you with that—”

“No, it’s okay, I got it—”

In the fumble of dry cleaning, backpacks, sports duffels, and totes between you two, somehow every single container of brownies tumbles out of your bag. Jake’s eyes catch on the hasty letters you’d scrawled on duct tape on the lids of each container last night to distinguish between the brownies you ended up making for your roommates: FOR JS & TEAM. His eyebrows shoot up as your face burns; he doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but…

“There was also a sale on baking supplies at the grocery store,” you lie. Then, you shake your head. “Okay, no, that’s not true. I made these last night and I meant to give them to you today but I never got you at the right moment during classes, and then there was the whole thing with MJ, so I almost forgot… Anyways. You said you were worried about the seniors on the team being upset about you for stepping in as interim captain, and I’m sure they’re not so easily swayed by just baked goods, but I thought maybe you could give these to them, as a way to, like, soften the beaches, or something. It’s not much, but I promise, they’re really good.”

Jake’s jaw drops. “You made these… for me? Even when you hated me?”

“I made them for you to give to the team,” you insist. “But, yeah… I did.” You frown at the ground. “Look, I really am sorry about the way I treated you before. I wasn’t going to, like, trauma-dump on you, but I guess I will, now, because I want you to know that I never hated you.” You take a deep breath. “MJ’s mom is my mother, too, but she left my dad and I when I was in elementary school. I didn’t hear from her for a decade, until last year, when she reached out and told me I had a brother on the other side of the country, and she had been pregnant with him when she left my dad and I.” 

You chance a glance at Jake. “Please don’t look at me with pity. My dad’s a great guy, and so is my step-dad. I moved out here to be closer to MJ, and you can see how that’s going, but I love him purely, without complication. It’s just my mother who’s… complicated. Anyways, I just got MJ, so I’m a bit overprotective over him, and I was quick to paint you as the bad guy, but that’s no excuse. These are I’m-sorry-for-jumping-to-conclusions brownies. And bribe-your-team brownies.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not looking at you with pity.” It’s awe, he thinks. Awe for your heart, loyal to the point of changing schools and moving across the country for a brother you had never met. Awe for your diligence in making enough brownies to feed an entire team. And most of all, awe at your goodness, for doing all of this because you knew you were in the wrong.

“Can you look at her somewhere where you’re not blocking the doorway?” Sunghoon’s voice pierces through the strange moment. You and Jake move into action all at once, collecting containers of brownies while juggling your other things.

“Thanks for the help, dude.” Jake punches Sunghoon’s shoulder sarcastically. 

Sunghoon shrugs and holds up the shopping bags in his hands. “Precious goods, my man.”

Jake peers into one of the bags. “Tiramisu?”

“Yeah, Yizhuo was on my ass about contributing to dinner.” Sunghoon rolls his eyes fondly. “She also told me to marshall the troops for the mac ‘n cheese, so Heeseung and Jay are a couple minutes behind me. Seriously, did you guys buy out the entire grocery store, or something?”

You laugh as you unlock the door and usher them inside. “Or something.” You had heard that the sale really was quite good, but truthfully, you suspect there’s more to it than that. Based on the way Somi exaggeratedly darts her eyes between you and Jake, you think you’re probably right. You get the sense that even if you hadn’t invited him for dinner, he would have shown up with Sunghoon’s contingent anyways.

“Ladies, you are so not slick,” you mutter to your friends when it’s just the four of you in the kitchen.

Minjeong smiles beatifically at you. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. This is just an impromptu but no less lovely dinner party for our friends… oh, there’s the door! I’ll get it.” 

In a sense, you suppose she’s right. It’s not like Jake is the only other person at this semi-spontaneous gathering; eventually, there are almost 20 people eating mac ‘n cheese on various surfaces in your apartment. It’s an eclectic bunch— pretty much anyone you or your friends knew who was available to come eat mac ‘n cheese. But Minjeong insists that you and Jake share an armchair in the living room because there’s nowhere else to eat, even though there is clearly an open chair next to Heeseung and a free spot on the rug next to some kid from your programming class last year.

“This is really good!” Jake enthuses. He says it while shoveling food into his mouth, so it sounds more like Vif iv weally good! He’s also eating with his non-dominant hand to keep from spilling anything on you where you’re pressed up against each other in the armchair, though that turns out to be fairly counterproductive because he keeps missing his mouth with the fork.

Your head tips back in a fit of giggles. “You look ridiculous,” you inform him. He just grins at you with chipmunk cheeks stuffed with tiramisu. “Here, let me.” You take the fork from his hand and feed him a mouthful; it’s much more efficient this way, you reason to yourself.

He’s so startled by this that he starts choking on the dusting of cocoa powder atop the dessert. You end up thumping him on the back until his airway is clear again, and he hopes you chalk up the redness of his face to the choking. 

“Um, you have a little…” You motion to a spot of cocoa powder at the corner of his mouth. He wipes at entirely the wrong corner, and you’d think he was doing this on purpose, except he starts choking again when you use your thumb to wipe the powder away.

He gets over it much more quickly this time, though. Once he’s finally back to normal, he wills himself to summon all— or any— of the charm he has ever possessed to turn warm eyes on you. “Thanks for inviting me here tonight,” he says. There’s a slight rasp to his voice that is probably due to all the choking, but he hopes you think it’s sexy, or something.

“Oh, it’s no big deal. Thanks for helping us eat the food, and for, uh, coaching MJ, I guess?” Your voice is approaching a squeak, which makes you want to die, a little bit. He’s just looking at you so sincerely.

His gaze holds yours. “Easy day. And hey, you’re totally welcome to come join us whenever you want. I was just gonna keep meeting him at that park, so you know where to find us.”

“Thank you,” you repeat, quieter this time. “My mother… she’s hard on him. Always be good, be the best, you know? So he was pretty torn up about not making the A team.”

“I kinda sensed that he was tense during try-outs. Not that it’s bad to try hard, or to want to be on a certain team, but at his age, he could benefit from just… having fun, I think. If you don’t mind me saying that.”

You nod. “Believe me, I agree. MJ’s way too serious for his own good.”

“Some may say he gets it from you,” Jake teases lightly. 

“Some may say that’s not how genetics work, but we’ll leave that to the pre-meds.” You tip your head toward Yizhuo, who is arguing about some memory from hers and Sunghoon’s childhood with him. Your heart glows with contentment as you look around the room; all of your favorite people (plus or minus miscellaneous others) gathered in one place on a random Monday night. 

Jake carves out a piece of his tiramisu and holds it up to you like a toast. “To the pre-meds. And old friends, and new ones.” 

“And new ones,” you echo.  

As it turns out, the soccer team is exactly as easily swayed as a container of brownies. 

You’re at practice when it winds down and Jake holds up your stack of containers like Simba in that one scene in The Lion King. “A gift from the lady,” he intones grandly to the team gathered in front of him. You nudge him with your hip. “Okay, and me, I guess, but seriously, she did all the work. Listen, guys, I’m not gonna lie— it’s gonna be rough without Sungchan. But I believe in us, and I believe in these brownies!”

“Brownies!” The team roars back. Said brownies are demolished in a matter of minutes, and then every player makes it a point to sing your praises and give Jake a hug or a fist-bump on their way out. 

You’re still gaping by the time it’s just you and Jake left on the field. “That’s all it took?” 

Jake turns to you with his arms crossed smugly over his chest. “Hmm? Oh, yeah. The way to the heart is through the stomach, and all that.”

“Otherwise known as: men are so easy.” You bemoan all the fancy ingredients and time you put into those brownies; you’re sure the team would have been just as happy with boxed Betty Crocker. 

“Yeah, but these taste like care and love,” he insists. 

“Alright, buddy, I wouldn’t go that far. And how would you know? You haven’t even tried one yet.”

“Oh my god. You’re right.” Jake looks aghast. “Are there any left?!” 

You make a show of looking around at all the empty containers around you. Jake’s face falls so comically and he pouts so fervently that you can’t keep up the ruse for long. Laughing, you pull out one last ziplock bag of brownies from behind your back and present it to him. “Saved one just in case.”

He plucks the bag out of your hands with exaggerated delicacy, which vanishes when he bites into the brownie and lets out an honest to god moan. Heat floods your face immediately. 

His eyes are closed when he tells you, quite seriously, that you are a goddess amongst mortals. “Did you drug this? I feel like I’ve ascended to a new plane of existence.” He moans, again, eyes still closed.

“Hello, stop making that sound, you weirdo,” you hiss. 

He cracks one eye open to wink at you. “Where is your mind? Get out of the gutter, ma’am. Ow, okay, I get it!” He jumps away from your jabbing elbows. “Seriously, these are incredible. You could make money off of them.” 

“You’re just saying that because you want me to make them again, for free.” 

“Will you?”

“... Maybe if you let me look at how you got to your answer on number 89 on page 151.”

Jake’s hoot of delight carries you all the way to the library, where he shows you his usual spot and apologizes for ever making you uncomfortable with his staring— it’s just that you used to occupy the spot to which his eyes zoned out.

You give him a blank stare of your own. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I never noticed that you sat here. Or that you stared.”

Jake’s blush starts from the bridge of his nose and spreads out across his cheeks. “Oh, well, that’s good, I guess.”

“But I can sit next to you now, and you can stare all you want,” you offer jokingly.

His blush only intensifies. “Nope, that’s fine, I’ll just keep zoning out at whoever they replaced you with at the reference desk. Great, it’s… Huening.” He waves unenthusiastically at the lanky boy.

“Who?” You squint at your replacement.

“Huening Kai. He’s on the basketball team with Heeseung.” 

“Are all of your friends athletes?”

“Not all, but most of them, yeah. Sunghoon and Jay are doubles partners on the tennis team, and they were roommates with Heeseung and I, respectively, so that’s how we all became friends. But I’ve got other friends in the physics department. And now, you.” Jake smiles softly at you, letting the words linger in the air for so long that your pulse starts to pick up speed.

“So, this is the famous staring, huh?” You mean for the words to come out friendly and light, but instead they come out low and musing.

“The one and only.”

“Hmm. It doesn’t make me uncomfortable, if that’s what you’re wondering.” And you mean it. His gaze is warm and easy, like the blanket a loved one draws up over your shoulders when you’re half-asleep.

Confidence returns to him like a boomerang as the corner of his mouth tips up in a smirk. “Are you giving me permission to stare at you?”

“Five minutes of staring for every problem you let me look at in your notebook.”

“We’re bargaining now?” He tsks and pulls out his work, though his shoulders are shaking with laughter. “How about this: you can look at my notebook for as long as you want, if you let me do the same for yours.”

“That’s just called working together, Jake.”

“Sure, but I also get to stare at you.”

“Tough deal for me.” But you’re staring at him, too, and there’s something hesitant and wanting brewing in your chest. It goes away when you clear your throat. “I’m feeling benevolent today, so I’ll allow it.”

Two hours pass by as you work on problem sets in companionable silence. He does stare at you more often than is perhaps necessary, but half of the time it’s because he really is zoning out. The other half… well, just because you’re friends now doesn’t mean you stopped being pretty.

When you finally decide to call it quits, it’s almost 8pm, and both of your stomachs are growling loudly. Jake yawns and stretches leisurely, like a large puppy. You’d laugh at the sight if you weren’t so transfixed by the ripple of a toned stomach exposed by his stretching. Suddenly, you remember that the soccer team does strength training for an hour every other day, and Jake is no exception.

Thankfully, he’s too busy complaining about being hungry to notice your wandering eyes. “Ugh, I think the dining hall is closing now. I have ramen back at my place, if you wanna—” Jake cuts himself off abruptly as he realizes the innuendo behind his words. “I mean, not like that. You probably have food at your apartment, what am I even saying, haha!” His voice goes high-pitched towards the end. 

Mercifully, you ignore his slip-up. “Yeah, actually, we still have mac ‘n cheese left, so I’m probably going to microwave some of that. You’re welcome to take some home with you, if you want.” You shake your head immediately after the words come out of your mouth. “What am I even saying? You have ramen back at your place.”

And then you’re back at square one, both staring at each other with wide eyes and heat creeping up your necks.

Jake is the first to break the silence with peals of laughter that dissolve into giggles. You’re not far behind, and it isn’t long before Huening is glaring at the two of you and miming zipping his lips shut.

The two of you make your way out of the library still giggling, but right outside the library doors, Jake asks if he can walk you home. There’s a shy, boyish look on his face when he asks; it stirs up that strange, stumbling desire in you again. 

“I really don’t live that far,” you murmur. 

“I’m trying to get my steps in,” he jokes. He knows you saw him running back and forth across the field for two hours during practice today.

“I really don’t live that far,” you repeat, already starting in the direction of your apartment. When you don’t hear him follow, you turn around and quirk an eyebrow at him. “Aren’t you coming? Can’t have the star player missing his steps.”

He grins and catches up to you quickly, and then he spends the next ten minutes badgering you for more compliments. You have never felt so warm on the walk home.

Just as promised, you let MJ come to the next home game. It’s your first game as an assistant manager, so between keeping an eye on MJ and keeping an eye on your actual responsibilities, you’re pretty frazzled before the game even starts. 

You’re settling MJ into a spot on the bleachers when someone taps your shoulder. You turn around to gasp at the sight of Jake. “Your hair!” The jet-black strands are no more; his hair is now a silvery-tinged blonde.

His smirks as he runs his fingers through his hair. “Team bonding thing we do every year. Jay did it for me this time, though, so it looks better than it normally does.” He crouches down to MJ’s seated level. “Hey, buddy, be kind and stay put for your sister, alright? She’s got a big job today.”

MJ stands up and nods solemnly, then salutes Jake with two fingers that turn into finger guns. The whole display is so ridiculously adorable that everyone around you in the bleachers laughs.

Jake repeats the gesture back at MJ through his own giggles before straightening up and turning to you. “Feeling nervous?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Nah, the playing is easy. Well, it’s not easy, but it’s second nature. I actually find it harder watching from the sidelines, not having any control over the action.” He peers closer at you. “Are you nervous, assistant manager?”

“A little,” you admit. “I still feel like I don’t know much about soccer.”

“MJ could explain everything to you, right?” Jake high-fives your brother. “Sadly, he can’t be with you on the sidelines, but do you see that cat-looking guy over there?”

You squint in the direction Jake points in— a group of his teammates milling around on the sidelines. The cat-looking guy sports amateur-ish frosted tips which make you suppress a chuckle, but he’s easy enough to spot. “Yep, I see him. And the consequences of not having Jay around to dye your hair.”

Jake lets loose a burst of tiny giggles. “He tried his best, okay? And his name is Jungwon. Freshman with a lot of potential, but he sprained his ankle yesterday, so he’s sitting a few games out. He can tell you anything you want to know during the game.” Jake holds his pinky out to you. “You’ll be just fine. I’ll see you after the game, yeah?”

You’re speechless as you nod and wrap your pinky around his. It’s not clear to whose benefit this promise is, but your heart is tap-dancing in your chest at the realization that he came up to the bleachers just to reassure you about the game and ask to see you later. 

He releases your pinky and is halfway down the bleachers before you muster up your words to yell at his back, “Good luck!”

When he turns around, he’s beaming. “Don’t need it! You’re here, aren’t you?” Then he’s off to be with his team, and there are people whispering all around you, but all you can do is smile stupidly after him.

“You guys are acting weird,” MJ declares. 

“So weird,” Sunghoon agrees.

His sudden appearance makes you yelp. “Sunghoon? When did you get here?”

He wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Just in time to see that whole display.” He points his thumb behind him. “Yizhuo’s just getting snacks from the car. I know you wanted her to watch MJ during the game— do you mind if I tag along? I wanted to see Jake exercise authority as captain, anyways. It’s gonna be hilarious.”

“Knock yourself out. Hey, MJ, this is Sunghoon, one of Jake and Yizhuo’s friends. He’s on the tennis team, so don’t give him too much of a hard time for doing that instead of soccer, okay?” You ruffle MJ’s hair. “I’m gonna go, but I’ll see you after the game. Be kind!”

“I know!”

Down at the sidelines, you meet Jungwon and the rest of the players not in the field today. You’re tentative at first about asking Jungwon questions, but you find that he’s an enthusiastic— and entertaining— commentator. It isn’t long before the other players are clamoring to give you the low-down on what’s happening out on the field, as well as all the latest team gossip.

“... and that’s why Jisung’s girlfriend is ignoring him,” Sohee explains as the first half of the game comes to an end.

“Should you be telling me this?” You laugh, but the question is somewhat genuine.

Beomgyu pats your shoulder. “There are no secrets on the team, and you’re part of the team now!”

“There are no secrets on the team because everyone is a nosy little shit,” Jake says loudly from behind you.

As one, you and the other players turn to face him.

“Heeeeeeey, cap’n!” Jungwon salutes him with a cheeky grin. 

Jake eyes him with suspicion. “You’re not scaring off our new assistant manager, are you? We just got her.”

Mischief glints in Jungwon’s eyes. “Absolutely not. We were just telling her about Jisung’s girlfriend. We can move on to talking about the girl you stare at in the library, instead, if that’s better—”

Jake shuts him up with a (light) slap over the head. “No need, thanks!” The blush blooming over his cheeks is not lost on the team, who giggle like schoolchildren. 

“The staring really is famous,” you muse out loud.

“I just came over here to make some substitutions,” Jake huffs. Then, like he can’t help it, he shoots you a small smile. “You doing alright?”

You salute him like Jungwon did. “No complaints, captain.” To your delight, he appears flustered by the title coming out of your mouth.

“O-Okay, so Beomgyu, you’re gonna sub in. Wonbin, too, and…” 

The second half of the game goes by in a flash; before you know it, Jake has assisted Beomgyu in scoring the final goal, and your team wins 2-1. The crowd is jubilant, and you’re more animated about the win than you had expected. You join in on all the cheering and applauding with enthusiasm to rival that of MJ, whose screeches of delight you can hear all the way down the bleachers.

You can’t even try to look for Jake at first— every player seems to have welcomed you into their hearts now, so you’re bombarded with a chorus of congratulatory hollers and See you tomorrow! and Thanks for the advice! as they gradually leave the field. 

You’re reassuring Anton that it’s not embarrassing to go to the writing tutors at the library for help when Sunghoon and Yizhuo approach with MJ skipping in between them. Anton thanks you profusely before running off to the locker room, and then MJ is talking your ear off about how cool the game was. In between his exclamations, you thank Sunghoon and Yizhuo for staying with him.

“MJ’s pretty cool. Text me anytime you need someone to hang with him during a game,” Sunghoon offers. “Or Heeseung or Jay. We come to these pretty often, since we’re all on our off seasons right now, so there’s usually one of us here.”

You smile genuinely at him. “That’s really nice of you, Sunghoon. Thank you.”

Yizhuo tsks. “Men do the bare minimum.” She ignores Sunghoon’s half-hearted protests and kisses your cheek in farewell. “We have to go— double date. I’ll see you at home!”

You wave goodbye with equal parts amusement and bemusement, and then you turn to the field. At this point, MJ has run off to play with the few stragglers still kicking a ball around, so you watch them for a few minutes with a content smile on your face. 

“Hey.” Jake sidles up to you without a sound and then chuckles when you jump in surprise. 

You swat at his shoulder halfheartedly. “You just missed Sunghoon. He and Yizhuo are going on a… double date.”

“With each other? Or, like, they’re each going with someone else?”

“Y’know, it wasn’t clear.” 

“Man, I’ll have to interrogate him when he gets back. But besides that… how’d you like the game, lucky?” Jake looks expectantly at you. 

“I think I understood, like, 60 percent of the game, which is pretty good if you consider that I was probably at 10 percent before today.” You give him the same look. “What does ‘lucky’ refer to? Is that some kind of soccer slang?”

He looks away and runs a hand through his hair, suddenly bashful and bambi-eyed. “No, it’s just me being dumb, I guess. This is the first game we won this season, and it’s the first one you were at, so you’re like… a lucky charm.”

There are many things you could say. Correlation doesn’t equal causation, for one; every fledgling scientist knows this. And there has only been one other game this season, so your data set is quite sparse to begin with. Instead, all that comes out of your mouth is a slightly skeptical but mostly teasing: “I thought you said you didn’t need luck. And what if I was here and you lost instead?”

“Then I would’ve been lucky just to see you on the sidelines,” Jake murmurs. 

You are not usually moved by sentiment. But this one is so sweet and sincere tripping off his tongue, delivered with those warm brown eyes; once again, you’re rendered speechless by Jake Sim.

Beomgyu coughs loudly, thoroughly dispersing the pink clouds you half expect to see floating around you and Jake. “Sorry to interrupt,” Beomgyu snickers. “But I think your brother is ready to go home.” He points to where MJ is slumped over on a bench, eyes droopy and hair sticking to his forehead. 

The sight makes you smile fondly. “He’s had a big day. We’ll get going, then. Bye, guys!” You wave to the rest of the players on the field and get a few hollers in return as you and Jake walk over to MJ, who seems to have nodded off completely by now. 

He looks so young like this— and so peaceful that you don’t want to wake him. You’re debating how to get MJ home with the least amount of disturbance possible when Jake solves the problem for you by crouching down and putting MJ on his back.

“Did you drive here?” Jake asks you in a whisper.

“Yeah,” you whisper back. 

Jake hoists MJ further up on his back and secures his arms under the little boy’s legs. “C’mon, I’ll take him to your car.”

He starts walking in the direction of the parking lot, but you’re stuck in place, struck by the sight of Jake moving so slowly, careful not to disturb MJ’s sleep. Here is this guy you lambasted endlessly in your mind and multiple times to his face, all because of an assumption you made, and he’s holding your brother like a treasure. The sight makes your heart ache with inexplicable tenderness. 

Dusk bleeds into night as the stars peek out across a velvet sky, and the poets would say that the stars bear witness to this— the moment when that stumbling, hesitant desire in you begins to bloom into full-bodied love.

But you will not realize this until much later, because the heavens are fickle, and there is no easy way from the earth to the stars.

[eleni-cherie]

a thief's origin✨ || bts • kth - chapter 0.6

"you're afraid I won't wait." "I'm afraid you will."

a criminal and a doctor should be as different as the sun and the moon - but unexpected things happened every day. like him finding his safe haven in her.

© 2024 | eleni_cherie

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masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

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The inside of the embassy looked much like the outside let assume.

Fancy furniture with tasteful vases and decoration, wallpaper-covered walls and paintings hanging on them. A big mirror placed across from the entrance hall caught their attention, seeing themselves in it when entering. Their eyes lingered on their reflection a little longer. They looked like actually belonging there along with the other guests.

Taehyung gently guided her to the direction string music was heard from, following the other attendees inside. As they entered the ball room, she let the blazer fall from her shoulders, returning it to him.

"So, what's the plan?" Cassandra whispered, eyeing everyone around them eagerly as he put it back on. "Eavesdropping on a diplomat? Observing the guests? Keeping track of the security? I counted five guards nearby so far."

He chuckled at how serious she was taking her role, flattening the collar of his shirt. "First, I have to meet the guys. They sneaked in my gun, so I gotta get it from them."

Right, made sense. He couldn't have sneaked it in with the metal detector at the entrance.

"Oh okay, and what am -"

"You'll take your seat at our designated table and wait, okay?" Before she could even revolt, Taehyung tapped his in-ear and pivoted towards the back of the room only to disappear in the sea of well-dressed people.

Cassandra huffed, taking a handful of tulle into her fists before trotting to the direction of the tables at the side. The invitation said she'd be at table 16 and soon she spotted the card with the number. And the place card with her fake name on it.

Ms Cassandra Vasques. A fake research scientist in the medical field.

At least the field of profession wasn't so far off. Probably chosen on purpose by Jimin to minimize the potential of her blowing her cover. A medical researcher was easier than pretending being an international lawyer or engineer.

With disappointment spreading inside her, she took a seat and propped her chin into her palm. As if her insecurities hadn't been enough, now she was left to sit there alone like a loser. Besides, she could swear the old lady in her dark blue dress sitting at the table next to hers was scrunching her nose at her. Great.

Cassandra's arms instinctively folded in front of her in an attempt to cover the décoleté, although she could spot some other ladies with similar deep necklines or daring side-cuts while still managing looking classy.

She dragged a breath when sensing someone approaching her. A waiter from the look of his red vest and the silver tablet he was holding.

"May I take your order?"

"Red wine and.. and any cocktail you have with blue curacao, please." The waiter rose a mildly startled brow but only gave her a bow before leaving again.

If she had to go through this night feeling like a fool she might at least enjoy herself with a cocktail. She rarely got to drink any, so might as well tonight.

The drinks arrived soon and she immediately took a few sips of the deep light blue drink. Contently wiggling her shoulders when tasting the sweet-sour taste.

Unsure if much time passed or she simply drank too quickly, something she tended to unfortunately despite a cocktail's high alcohol percentage, her drink had eventually reached the lower half of the glass.

She felt a light buzz taking over, her mind beginning to float lightly and a sheepish smile plastered over her lips as she observed the people dancing to the string quartet's music in the dimly lit ballroom. Making her head sway to its rhythm, mimicking their movements.

She wasn't drunk, nor really tipsy. She had only begun to loosen up a little when she decided to take another sip before checking her make-up, just in case. The small pocket mirror in her purse coming in handy, she noticed that of course some of the the brownish-red lipstick had faded by now and she attempted to fix it with the lipstick she'd bought, when the reflexion of something black appeared behind her. Her eyes narrowed and in a mindless move, she turned her head and let the lipstick disappear back inside the purse.

Taehyung was standing behind her, having returned and now glancing down at her with a soft grin on his face. His hand stretched out towards her.

She looked at it suspiciously, making him laugh under his breath.

"May I have this dance?"

Cassandra shrugged, not try hiding she was sulky of him abandoning her among strangers. All her social awkwardness she thought she'd left behind in university, resurfacing after all in an unknown environment.

"Sure, but I have no clue how to dance."

Taehyung noticed her sullen mood but decided not to go into it and instead make up for his, admittedly, unpolite behaviour.

"You're lucky I don't mind you stepping on my feet."

Somehow this along with his boyish naive smile managed coaxing out a small laugh from her after all and her expression softened. Usually she wasn't so fast in giving in, but he made it easy.

Eventually, she placed her hand in his bigger one and let his fingers close around it and Taehyung gently pulled her up from her seat. Leading her through the crowd, until they reached the centre of the dancefloor. A clear vision of the band playing on the stage. Along with a clear sight on the French embassandor. Cassandra looked behind her to see what he was looking at and recognised the man. She hadn't attended totally unprepared after all, having looked up photos of him and his wife online, remembering Taehyung's task - which naively enough also in some way felt like hers, too - to keep an eye on the embassandor and warn the others if he attempted to leave and go upstairs.

Another couple bumped into her, not paying attention while dancing and she redirected her focus on Taehyung. He held her hand firmly, his other arm loosely wrapped around her waist. Pulling her closer in the narrow space, to prevent her from bumping into another person. And Cassandra swallowed at the almost non-existent gap between their chests.

"You have something.. there." He gestured to the corner of his lips and she frowned for a moment before realising she must've smudged the lipstick when seeing him behind her. And she cursed under her breath because of course, her clumsiness just never gave her a break.

"Wait, I -" She attempted to let go and get her purse but his thumb was already wiping off the faint smudge and she paused startled. Her eyes blinking rapidly. "T-thanks."

He nodded, his hand going back to holding hers as they began to move among the others.

"I really don't know how to dance, I wasn't joking," she mumbled embarrassed as she felt her feet almost tripping with every move, glancing up at him with an apologetical smile. He only breathed out a chuckle and she felt her skin tingling where his hands were laying on her. 

"Just follow the rhythm." His mellow voice almost drowning in the soft melody around them.

It was so strange. Like a fever-dream. Swaying with him among strangers who were most likely by far more important and wealthy than her. She felt like Cinderella. A poor maid in disguise at the king's ball, dancing with prince charming himself.

And as they kept moving, her body following his eloquent moves, she felt the tingle develop into a burning, spreading on every inch of her skin like wildfire. And she wasn't sure if it was the liquor, opening her blood vessels on its surface, or the warmth of his touch that caused it.

There had always been an attraction simmering under the surface for Taehyung, she couldn't deny that. It'd been there four years ago when she'd first met him and it'd still been there over a year ago when meeting him again.

However, Cassandra had never dared to see him as more than a friend before, knowing it would've been pointless with their vastly different lives.

But moving along his lead under the sparkling lights of the dimlit room in such close proximity along with the palm of his hand leaving her waist to lay flat right at the ribbon on her lower back, made her feel deezy.

Right now, her mind had completely shut down and all she could hear was her beating heart putting her skin on fire and all she could see was his dark irises, getting lost in their depth - along with that damn lonely curl on his forehead.

She was an internist. She knew the neuro-biology behind attraction, inflatuation, sex and even the feeling of love.

Neurotransmitters, hormones, endorphines.

At the end, it all came down to serotonine, dopamine, β-endorphine and noradrenaline.

She also knew, however, that this cocktail of messengers alone would only cause a feeling of happiness, lust and content, no deeper feelings. It was humans themselves putting meanings into them. And right now, Taehyung was causing her neurological system to have a complete meltdown.

His hand slid off from her lower back then and he stepped back, making her spin before stepping in and catching her again. And she held her breath for a moment before giggling, seeing an equal amused glint in his eyes. His hand finding her waist again. "Would've never guessed you'd be such a good dancer," she teased. Her natural response to distract from her flustered face.

He shrugged non-chalantly, spinning her again. Her giggles making him smile while he glanced above people's heads. Spotting the embassandor talking with other guests next to a pillar at the side.

"Picked up some moves at all these sleazy parties we attended."

"Mhm, to dance with all the pretty girls I see.." she grinned.

He only breathed a laugh, his attention back to Cassandra. Sensing her hand gliding from his chest to his back. Briefly brushing over the pistol grip that stuck out from the waistband and pressed onto his lower back under the suit jacket.

A slower song began playing and she leaned her head against his shoulder to rest her - surely alcohol-induced - spinning head. And they began moving slower. His breathing hitching along with their movement.

Her eyes closed then and she let herself take in the feeling of Taehyung holding her in his broad arms like this. Forgetting completely where they were and why. For just a minute, she wanted to be in a bubble of her own instead.

Taehyung smiled to himself, pressing his cheek against her sweet-scented curls.

The bare curve of her back fit perfectly under his fingertips and he wondered if that was even possible or if he just made things up by now. Like the aching in his chest and the cloudiness of his mind at the feeling of Cassandra's delicate body swinging in his arms.

"No, you're the only pretty one so far."

His thoughts mindlessly slipped out of his lips, not meant to actually be said out loud. And the thief realised he had to snap out of whatever this was he was letting himself get lost in.

They were only there as a cover so he could keep an eye out for the job.

And moreover, Cassandra was a friend. A dear friend. One of those friends you didn't need to see every day to know they were there. A friend who, no matter how much time apart, it would always feel like not even a day had passed by since the last time you'd joked with them. No matter how far away, they still cared for you. And you for them.

That was the kind of friend Cassandra was to him. A special one. He knew, after all, that a friendship like this wasn't a given. Especially considering his busy and beyond legal life.

So no, he couldn't allow himself to feel anything beyond that. He couldn't allow himself to dwell or surrender to that looming feeling. Or the way his chest contracted irregularly when sensing her fingers fisting his suit jacket when hearing his words.

Cassandra's heart skipped a beat at his warm breath brushing over her ear and she swallowed. She wanted to believe she knew him well enough to know he'd never say something ingenuine, he wasn't the type to wrap others around his finger just for fun.

"Glad my dress is 'fitting' enough," she quietly joked, reciting his previous choice of words to ease the sudden tension between them. His chest vibrating against her cheek.

"Mh, green is my favourite colour."

Her eyes fluttered open at this and she slightly heaved her head to look at him.

"You're lucky, then," she smirked, "If it was available in blue or red, I'd have chosen them instead."

"Huh." His lips shaped a small grin. "Are these your favourite colours? Blue and red?"

"Mhm, and their pastel shades."

He nodded, licking over his suddenly dry lips. "Yeah, I can see that. Emeralds, sapphires, rubies.."

She faked offence with a pout then to keep herself from blushing. "No diamonds?"

For a moment, he simply stared at her dark-frame eyes, mesmerized and perhaps a bit bewitched by their intenser look that night. "Diamonds are awfully common, they wouldn't suit you," he said matter-of-factly as they danced in a circle. The song changing into a more up-beat one. "They just became popular thanks to good PR."

Her lips formed a small 'o'. "Really? I didn't know that." Intentionally dismissing the subtle compliment between his words - unsure if she could handle herself otherwise - she was surprised by this information, seeing him nod.

She hummed then, looking away for a second before giving him an amused smile.

"Wow, what good promo can do. So no diamonds then.. good thing I was never a big fan of them anyway."

His brows rose, not having expected that as most people were, thanks to aforementioned advertisement.

"No?"

"No, though there's one exception.."

Now he was intrigued. "And what would that be?"

Her lips curled and she bit back a cheeky grin. "I wouldn't say no to a pink diamond like the Pink Panther."

At this Taehyung couldn't help but burst out laughing with a chesty sound. Of course she'd be referring to a classic heist film, he thought. His head falling back before he tried containing himself as a few people around them already glanced in utter bewilderment at his sudden amusement.

Flashing her a square grin then, still chuckling. "A pink diamond would suit you indeed."

Cassandra smiled contently and placed her head back onto his shoulder. Feeling her cheeks warm. "Thank you."

His glance left her then and instead wandered up, looking around in the sea of important people and to the direction of his main person of interest. Only to freeze, coming to an abrupt halt.

The embassandor was gone from his spot and nowhere to be seen.

Dammit, he wasn't able to spot him.

Cassandra frowned, mirrowing his expression. "What h-"

"Come," he said in a stern tone and tugged at her hand. Rushing out of the crowd. "I lost sight of him," he explained over his shoulder when reaching the spot he had last seen him at.

Her eyes widening in mild panic as well, now also frantically looking around.

With quick steps, he held her close to him as they left the ball room. His eyes intense and it worried her, the last time she'd seen that expression on them was when they'd been chased through Barcelona half a year ago.

He scanned their surroundings, his eyes seemingly a shade darker and he tapped his in-ear transmitter then. "Guys? Stay alert, I lost sight of him."

"What?" Jimin's raised voice was heard from the other line. "How? Weren't you paying attention?"

"I-" He briefly peeked at Cassandra. Feeling disappointed in himself for acting like a noob and letting himself get distracted. "I shortly lost focus," he eventually muttered.

"Yeah, can imagine with what," his friend chuckled then and he felt his cheeks turning red.

"We're almost done," Yoongi spoke up then, "Just make sure he isn't entering his office in the next ten minutes."

"Got it."

According to the blueprint, the office was in the second floor, at the end of the left corridor. Right there where Jimin and Yoongi were located at right now.

He took a last glance into the ball room, ensuring he hadn't missed him.

"Can you see him?"

Cassandra shook her head. "No, but I can see his wife. Wait."

Before Taehyung even realised she had left his side, she was already walking up to the embassandor's wife, a blond woman in her forties in a deep lavender-coloured dress currently holding a martini while chatting with another woman. Only when he saw her green dress flowing a few metres away from him, he realised what she was planning to do. His eyes widening, about to run after her and hold her back when the blonde turned and smiled at Cassandra. The three women began to chat away for a moment. Cassandra giggling at something the brunette woman in the blue dress said, bowing at her before walking back to him.

Already spotting Taehyung's inquiring look. "What did you-"

"Her husband apparently lost his cufflink and went to replace it with another pair in his office. He's supposed to deliver a speech in fifteen minutes and didn't want to do it without it."

"How did-"

She shrugged, cutting him off. "I just introduced myself with the fake name and explained my work in the medical field. The other woman was the leader of a women's health organisation, I recognised her. So it was easy to strike a conversation. Then I casually wondered where the gala's host was and she told me."

His lips parted, taken aback by how smoothly she obtained the information, almost reminding him of the other smooth-talker he knew, Jimin. However, something else caught his attention then.

"Office you said?"

She nodded.

Fck.

He slid off his suit jacket, wrapping it around her shoulder. "Wait outside for me, okay?"

"Wh-why? Where are you going?"

"Saving their asses."

And with that he ran off, leaving her back. Again. If she didn't know better she'd have thought he was Cinderella and it was close to midnight.

Holding his blazer tightly, Cassandra went back to the ball room, passing by the dancing crowd and towards their table where she picked up her purse before making her way out of the stuffy atmosphere. Past the foyer with the big mirror which she intentionally ignored and exiting the building, the cool night air hitting her heated skin.

- Heated from the drinks and the heat from so many people in the room of course.

At least there were also other guests lingering around there. Some only now arriving, others gathered in small groups for a smoke.

She held the suit jacket closer to herself when she felt several pairs of eyes on her, stepping more to the side where she hopefully wouldn't gain any attention. And she waited.

Usually, she wasn't someone who liked being in the dark, but she understood this wasn't a common situation for her. Her only role was to get Taehyung in, nothing else. She was supposed to stay out of trouble. So she tried actually listening this time and simply let him do his job.

However, after awhile she felt bored and didn't know what exactly to do with herself, so she observed other guests when suddenly faint pop-sounds echoed above her.

She glanced up, unable spotting anything out of the ordinary that could've caused it. It seemed like nobody else had heard it though, most likely due to the loud background noises of chatter and music.

Minutes passed and she grew more impatient while waiting outside in the chilly air, another sound being heard then. This time it was a creaking from around the corner.

The young woman tensed, again no one else but her having heard it. Sparkling her curiosity once again, she turned around the corner only to be almost hit by someone landing right in front of her on the grass. And she squealed, clutching her purse tightly until realising it was none other than Taehyung who had appeared out of nowhere.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered in a hiss as he brushed over his black dress shirt. His hair dishevelled by now.

He quickly pressed a finger to his lips then, shushing her. And with wonderous eyes she observed him sliding the magnum out from between his waistband along with a small cylinder. Screwing it onto the gun barrel. Next, he pressed himself against the wall, peeking around the corner and aiming at the side-building on the opposite side of the courtyard.

He knew they were at a blind spot which the guards couldn't spot, but if he leaned out too much he'd be caught by them so he had to act quick and careful.

His tongue slightly darted out as he focused, firing one precise shot at a window in the first floor then. Everyone present stirred up at the shilling sound and the security from the entrance immediately rushed inside. The people who had been outside in the courtyard all looked up at the window while raising their voices in confusion. Confused mumbles about what it could've been, some guessing a stone having been thrown. No one having guessed a gunshot as the silencer prevented it creating a loud enough noise for the to hear with the background buzzing.

Content by their reactions, Taehyung tapped his in-ear then. "Quick."

At his command, Yoongi's head followed by Jimin's appeared out of the window in the second floor. And the two began climbing out the windowsill to slid down the gutter pipe. Half-way through though they slipped and landed in the bushes beneath them, with butts first.

Taehyung and Cassandra stifling a  laugh at the hilarious sight.

"Haha funny."

"Well, quite an elegant way to go," Yoongi chuckled in self-irony as he picked leaves out of his hair.

"Something that wouldn't have happened if someone had done his job correctly," Jimin coughed then. A knowing smirk on his lips as he glanced at Taehyung from the corner of his eye. Before the younger one could counter something though, he already waved him off. "Anyway. Let's get out of here before they notice."

They nodded, Taehyung turning to her then. "Cas, wait at the gate for a few minutes. We'll get the car and pick you up."

"Wh-"

"Just trust me, okay?"

She swallowed at his look of appeal and nodded. Watching them sneak behind the bushes to the very back of the high metal fence, which immedietally subjected to Yoongi's katana as if it was nothing but butter under a knife. And the three escaped from the hole and into the night.

Perplexed and a little unsure, Cassandra slowly walked out and making sure no one had seen her appearing from behind the corner when she heard loud voices coming from the open window in the second floor. Security probably having entered the office.

Acting as if she hadn't had a clue about what had gone down, she innocently walked across the courtyard and through the corridor to the entrance. The grip around Taehyung's suit jacket firm when she entered the chill night at the open street. Even humming while letting her gaze wonder around, pretending she didn't notice any of the uproar from inside the building. Glancing at her imaginary watch then, she acted as if she was waiting for someone and they were late which technically was true.

Finally, the familiar black limousine appeared in front of her and she hurried to the backseat where Yoongi greeted her with a nod. And they drove off.

"Alright. What even happened?" she asked then, a rush of adrenaline still running through her veins as she began shifting in her seat and glancing at each of them.

Taehyung dragged out a tired breath from the passenger seat, recalling the events of the past twenty minutes. How the embassandor had indeed been heading to his office. How Taehyung had to knock out a security guard to create a commotion in the first floor for the embassandor and his security to go check out. And then him escaping by climbing out the window before they reached the source. "Nothing."

Cassandra blinked with a scoff. "Nothing? Seriously now?"

"Just had to do create a little distraction."

Was that the noise she had heard? "What distraction?"

He smirked into his palm that was propping up his chin. "Oh, you know. Had to get a little creative." By basically making his own firecrackers.

"Don't worry, love, no one saw us and we got what we were there for," Jimin smiled brightly from behind the steering wheel, glancing at her in the rear-view window before adding with a wink, "Nice dress, by the way. I can see why Taehyungie got so distracted."

Taehyung's brows rose at this, his hand slipping from his chin. He probably would've fought his friend if he hadn't been driving right now, surpassing cars at speed limit.

"This had nothing to do with anything," he said with a scowl, keeping his voice calm and unphased. Cassandra only folded her lips, nodding to ensure she believed him. His attention then returning to Jimin. "And you, can you not flirt with any female for just five minutes?"

He was just glad he had offered her his blazer so they didn't actually get to see the whole dress or otherwise Jimin wouldn't have stopped pestering her.

He heard the master thief groan in annoyance then. His gleeful mood by their successful stunt, sullening with Taehyung's irrational agitation. "Man, chill. She looks good, that's all I said."

"It's alright, seriously," Cassandra giggled bemused by their quarreling, patting Taehyung's shoulder reassuringly from the back. She leaned over between the seats then to flash Jimin an appreciating grin. "And thanks. Wasn't quite sure about it so I'm glad someone likes it."

Jimin's eyes widened at this, peeking at Taehyung dumbfounded. "Don't tell me I'm the only one who complimented you tonight."

"Well," she laughed under her breath and sat back, "I also heard it'd be 'fitting' for the occasion. I took that as a compliment."

"I-it definitely was," Taehyung assured, earning an eye-roll from Jimin who found him unbelievable.

"You do look good," Yoongi spoke up then from beside her. Giving her a small encouraging smile, which she reciprocated happily.

"Thank you, Yoongi!" It felt great to hear all these compliments, even if it was just out of politeness.

Her eyes briefly wandered to the passenger seat then, lingering there a moment when an inaudible sigh escaped her. Adverting her eyes from him then and instead looking out at the passing buildings across the illuminated Danubian bank.

As they turned into a side-street and away from the river, Jimin's phone vibrated in his pocket. Cassandra didn't really think much of it, but Yoongi and Taehyung exchanged an alerted glance. There were only two reasons someone would call him after all.

Either it was Arabella, wanting to persuade him into helping her out again or it was interpol being on their tail.

Honestly, they didn't know which one was the worse trouble.

By the light scowl on Jimin's face, though, and the lack of flirting and heart-eyes while speaking to the caller, it was most likely not Arabella.

"Alright, thanks dear," he said then and ended the call. A groan leaving his lips before he faced them with an uneasy laugh. "Well, seems like pops found our hide-out. The nice old neighbour called me. I'd asked her to let me know if someone showed up and she said some tall, handsome guys with trenchcoats were questioning them."

"Sounds like pops and his entourage," Yoongi nodded, being glad Jimin was charming enough to convince nice old ladies to help them out and inform them if cops showed up, "How far is the airport?"

"Pops? You mean that interpol agent?" Cassandra's eyes grew twice in size when recalling that nickname, "He found you here? How?"

They shrugged. "That's his job, after all. He'd quite suck if he didn't do it right occasionally," Jimin chuckled, taking a sharp turn and earning some honking from other drivers.

"You think it'd be smart to head to the airport now though?" Taehyung wondered out loud then, "Last time they were already surveillancing all airports and stations. Maybe we should just head to another city and lay low instead."

"You got a point," Jimin agreed then, "But then we gotta change cars. They'll probably soon find out about this one."

"Crap."

They fell silent and Cassandra looked around. "Well, how about you hide somewhere like my hotel room for the night and then think of something in the morning? I mean, no one will search you there, right?"

They perked up, Taehyung instantly shaking his head. "No. You already got enough involved."

"But no one knows that yet," she deadpanned, making his jaw clench. "No one will find you there."

"She got a point.."

"No, she doesn't," he protested in vain. He knew she was right, but he simply couldn't accept that.

"Alright, you got another idea then?"

"The one I suggested."

"You forget that last time they were also barricading the main roads in and out the city," Yoongi countered then, "So got any other idea?"

He didn't.

»»»

Thankfully, and much to Taehyung's relief, they didn't have to actually all cramp in Cassandra's hotel room since the room next door was unoccupied. It was easy for them to pick the old lock after sneaking into the building from an open window without anyone noticing that they were even there. The perks of old, small hotels.

When they parted, Cassandra's body was still buzzing from the gala. The exhilarating feeling not having fully subdued yet.

After entering her dark room, she first freed her feet from the stilettos and kicked them as far away as possible, not wanting to ever see them again. However, she didn't feel like taking off her dress as well yet and shedding off the elegant feeling of the night so soon.

It was still fairly early, not even midnight yet, and she decided to sit outside at the small balcony for a moment to cool down and recall the last few hours. Taking one of her jackets with her as she'd already returned Taehyung's blazer.

It was silent in the backyard of the hotel, save for the faint melody of music coming from an open window somewhere. The little tables in its centre sitting lonely among trees and bushes.

It was ironic in a way, how no one out there could imagine what had happened on the other side of the city that night. As if it was a parallel universe.

Standing there for awhile enjoying the peaceful silence and reliving the evening in her head - while intentionally not dwelling too much on specific moments, or feelings - she  decided to go back inside. It was getting cold, even with her thick jacket on, and a sudden exhaustion overcame her after all when the sound of someone stepping out on the balcony beside hers made her pause in her tracks.

She knew it must've been one of the guys and yet, whoever it was probably went out to be alone just like her, so she didn't want to intrude.

So she dared an attempt to sneak inside. Only to get hindered by a low chuckle.

"You stalking me now?" The teasing smirk was audible even from behind the partition. And Cassandra exhaled in relief before huffing jokingly.

"Excuse me, I was here before you?"

Taehyung tsked and leaned his folded arms over the railing right beside her. Letting his eyes wander over the dark scenary of the night. The music had stopped awhile ago, only a stray cat pushing a can echoed through the peacefulness now.

She leaned a bit over to catch a glimpse of him behind the thin cement wall then.

His side-profile shone under the sparse lighting of a lamp underneath them, its serene expression captivating. Unsure if she'd ever seen it before.

She was fond of it, though, just as she was fond of his strong brows, the curves of his nose and lips and all the other soft edges complimenting them. And she was especially fond of the way the night breeze was swaying his tousled strands, not much of their previously sleeked back state evident anymore. Causing them to fall right into his eyes before he pushed them back with his long fingers.

In that moment she made a mental snapshot of this sight, the sight only she got to see and nobody else. She knew with time, her memory wouldn't be able to fully capture this placid nature anymore, but she knew the emotions it triggered inside her would forever be engraved in it.

Her gaze wandered out into the old buildings then, she inhaled deeply and ignored the lingering chemical reactions underneath the surface of her skin. Pushing it all away. Or at least, pretended to.

"I had fun tonight."

Taehyung hummed in acknowledgement and tilted his head to face her better. In the faint lightning, her round face glowed like the mood. And he observed her tuck away a brash curl which had fallen into her view and got caught in her long eyelashes. Warm eyes absentmindedly staring at nothing in particular and he noticed the tiniest reflections of light dancing in them.

His mind instinctively remembering the similar sight in the ballroom only a few hour ago. When she was in his arms in the sea of people.

A shaky breath left his lips at that memory and he averted his eyes from her again. Focusing on the dark silhouette of a building in the distance instead.

"Me, too," he eventually breathed and pushed himself off the railing. "But don't expect this to happen again," his tone turning into a warning one then, "This was the first and only time you'll get involved in a heist."

He had to stifle a laugh when hearing her offended huff, imagining her folding her arms in front of her with an adorable confusion.

"What, why? It was so exciting! And I did my part well, didn't I? Not my fault if you blew it." A dull sound followed her mini rant along with her small yelp and he already figured out that she hit her elbow against the metal railing. Shaking his head, he was about to argue when she continued, blowing out some air. "Besides, it hardly counts as 'participating in a heist' anyway."

"And why doesn't it?"

"Because I barely noticed anything from the action."

Her complaint made a laugh brush past his lips. "Good. Let's keep it this way. It was the last time this happens anyway," he simply stated then and she pouted.

"Fine, you meanie."

"Cas-"

"I said 'fine', I get it," she sighed then, "I'm not naive, I know it can get far more dangerous than that. No reason to keep lecturing me. But it was still fun and I don't regret it. When else could I dress up and attend a gala after all?" She smiled and he could tell she genuinely meant it.

Taehyung nodded, biting back a smile.

"You looked beautiful tonight, by the way."

Her breath hitched and she stayed quiet for longer than she intended. "Oh, so not just 'fitting'?"

And Taehyung folded his lips, unable to retort anything as the mocking, even if playful, felt deserved.

Why had he struggled so much telling her before?

He should've told her way sooner, face to face with no partition seperating them. It had been on the tip of his tongue all night long, but something inside him feared crossing a line if saying it out loud. He felt like a coward right now.

But what if he didn't even mean to say 'beautiful'? What if the word he much rather preferred was 'breathtaking'?

"No. You.. you looked great."

His firm voice put a smile on her face, feeling the chemical reactions inside her gaining intensity all over again. She straightened herself then and cleared her throat.

"Thank you. You looked quite handsome, too, cool guy." Like someone who drank his vodka martinis 'shaken, not stirred' -type of handsome.

She found herself silly for not telling him sooner either, for some reason overthinking it the whole evening. So she couldn't really judge him for only complimenting her now. She wondered if he had struggled as much as she had.

"Ah, did I?" Taehyung laughed under his breath, masking his own blush.

"Mh, I'm sure you already knew."

"No, I didn't actually," he grinned, "But thank you."

And they enjoyed the silence of the night for a little bit longer.

»»»

next chapter: 0.7 here

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[perfectly-m1saligned]

(Late) K!nktober 9

Following @dreamlandcreations prompt list. Day 9: threesome. You can find all my stories on my Wattpad as well. Toodles!

(NSFW: MDNI!! Reader's discretion is advised)

Simon Riley x John MacTavish x reader

(threesome) (college!au) (homoerotic!ghoap)

cw: mlm (kind of), extreme bromance, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, anal, reader is stuffed like a turkey

word count: 2512

a/n: i hope posting this late won't happen as often in the future, please be patien with me xo ++ first time writing a threesome, may make no sense at all lol

“Who do ye like best, between Si-boy here and I?”

“I can’t choose, Johnny. You can’t ask me that, I love you both equally.”

“Bunch ‘a shite, bonnie. Ye must like someone more?”

“Nuh uh, can’t say I do.”

“Who would you fuck, then?”

Both you and Johnny turned to Simon, your beer bottle hanging mid-air, the rim slightly brushing against your lips. “What now?” You and Johnny asked at the same time, completely caught off-guard by Simon’s sudden question. “Si, I don’t think-” You looked between the two boys, perplexed, sitting criss-crossed on the carpeted floor of your dorm room between your two friends. Your best friends, since you could remember.

“I mean it. We talked about this, aye? At least I’ve got the balls to ask ‘er.” He bit back to Johnny, shooting him a sidelong glare. “You don’t really mean it…right?” You tried to play it off by chuckling awkwardly, giving them a nervous half-smile. Johnny sighed, looking away as heat crept up his neck, his cerulean eyes avoiding your gaze. You turned to Simon, and his brown eyes were locked on yours. He looked dead serious. “You…you’re not joking?” You asked, fiddling with your beer.

“No,” Simon replied plainly. “And I am expecting an answer.” You could feel Johnny’s shy gaze on you, eagerly waiting. This was not how you had expected the night to go. You had invited them over to catch up a bit, since even if you all went to the same college, your schedules rarely allowed you to spend time together. They’d brought some beers, covering the smoke alarm with a damp sock so they could smoke, and it was all sailing smoothly, until now.

“Didnae mean to pressure ye, y/n. You dinnae have to answer him if ye’re not feelin’ like it.” Johnny said from behind you, although you knew he was secretly dying to know. “Guys, really…?” You asked, your gaze flicking between the two boys. “I can’t choose, it wouldn’t be fair. And I really don’t have a favourite. You want my honest answer? If it came to it, then both.” The look they gave you as soon as the words fell out of your lips made you regret almost every decision you had ever made over your exiguous years of life on this earth. Then they looked at each other, and you wondered if you were in trouble. Or about to be.

“Y’ heard the lady, Johnny,” Simon murmured, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Wouldn’t be nice of us to not please her, eh?” You were increasingly more confused, especially since Johnny was mirroring his friend’s expression. “Sure wouldn’t,” he said. “So, y/n, will you have us?” The weight of their eyes on you felt unbearable. Did they seriously mean it? Of course they must’ve been fucking with you or something, they couldn’t possibly really mean it, they had been your best friends for ages, it felt borderline incestuous to see them under a different light.

You remembered two kids rolling in mud and playing rugby under the rain, then shaking themselves off like dogs, of course while standing next to you, and then you’d chase after them to beat them up with a stick. But now they were all grown up, their shoulders filled out, their features sharper, but they never lost the cheeky glint in their eyes.

Your tongue darted out to wet your dry lips, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. “I mean…fuck it, right?” You chuckled nervously, still thinking they were playing some prank on you. “We already did everything together, I don’t think sex would be weird.” They exchanged another look, then Johnny moved to take the beer out of your hands. “Ye’ve got us, then.” With that, he took a large swig from the bottle, using his other hand to reach for your face, taking your jaw between his fingers, applying minimal pressure, just enough to get your lips to part.

You didn’t have the time to process that he was getting closer, until his lips collided with yours, and you felt the bitter liquid go down your throat. You swallowed, still kissing Johnny, and he took the chance to let his tongue slide into your mouth, seeking out your tongue, which you offered with no resistance. Something similar to growl rumbled in his chest, and you felt it reverberating through your bones, all of your body relaxing into the kiss.

A pair of large hands found their way to your waist from behind, as Simon used his nose to move your hair out of the way, lips latching onto the sensitive skin of your neck, flushed from the heat of their touch. You moaned into Johnny’s mouth, and his kiss got somehow more passionate. His hands were on your thighs, gently prodding them apart to allow himself between them. Simon’s hands crept under your t-shirt, soon finding the soft swells of your breasts, no extra fabric separating your skin from his.

You gasped when he pinched your nipples, taking the sensitive nubs with his thumb and forefinger, then gently rolled them between his digits. You broke the kiss, a string of saliva still connected your lips to Johnny’s, your half-lidded eyes looking up into his cerulean ones with a dazed look, your cheeks flushed.

And somehow you ended up on your bed, all three of you standing on your knees, with you sandwiched between the two boys. Simon’s lips were now claiming yours, his kisses slower, more passionate, following a totally different pace from Johnny’s, whose kisses were more boyish. “You taste so good, y/n,” he murmured. “Ain’t that right, Johnny?” He simply hummed, his hands busy with exploring every inch of your clothed body, itching to get you out of them as soon as possible.

You were already soaked, your juices seeping through the fabric of your panties and most likely your shorts, too. When you felt the Scot’s hand circle the side of your thigh, you thought he was going to give your needy cunt some release, but instead, it reached for Simon’s crotch. You were a bit confused, but when you heard Simon groan as he peppered your neck with kisses, you wondered if this was the first time the two boys were this intimate with each other. Johnny palmed Simon through his sweatpants, his bulge swelling beneath the fabric. His other hand snaked around your waist, expert fingers sliding under your panties, feeling how utterly soaked you were, coaxing a small whimper.

“Fuck, she’s all wet, Si,” he informed his friend, a smirk in his voice. “Ye should feel ‘er. Absolutely soaked.” He collected some of the slick between your folds, and you groaned, slightly frustrated when he removed his hand, only to see him shoving his fingers, coated in your juices, into Simon’s mouth. “Fucking hell.” He growled, sucking on Johnny’s digits. A shiver ran down your spine, wide eyes transfixed on the scene in front of you, sending a wave of heat straight to your core. “Let’s get these clothes off ‘er, yeah?” The blond suggested, and you couldn’t help but think: fucking finally.

It felt odd, feeling their skin against yours, their body heat seeping right into your bones, their hairs tickling every inch of you. The last the three of you were all naked was when you were little snotty kids getting washed by Mrs. MacTavish after spending the day jumping in puddles after a storm. Now you weren’t kids anymore. Their warmth enveloped you, calloused hands tracing the contours of your body, stealing gasps of pleasure.

You sat between Simon’s legs, your back against him, his hands keeping your thighs parted for Johnny, who crawled right in between, admiring your glistening heat, all bare and exposed for them. His breath fanned over your sensitive core, your engorged clit screaming for attention, sending a shiver up your spine. His tongue darted out, giving small kitten licks that made you whimper, your legs instinctively closing, but Simon prevented you from doing that, clicking his tongue. “Can’t let you do that, love.” He chided affectionately, his lips marking the side of your throat. Johnny lapped up the slick between your folds with a flat tongue, his nose brushing against your clit, making you throw your head back against his chest, eyes fluttering closed.

A long digit slid inside your weeping hole, meeting no resistance. Your back arched as you released a shuddering breath, your hips meeting’s Johnny’s movements as he added a second finger and started to pump at a moderate place, his lips closed in around your sensitive bundle of nerves, alternating between sucking and licking. Your sweet mewls filled the room, the bed slightly shaking since Johnny started to fist his own cock, too turned on by your sounds and your taste. Simon was quiet, content enough with just watching you receiving pleasure, and Johnny humping his own hand like the dog he was. He kneaded the supple flesh of your breasts, playing with your nipples, attentively watching what made you moan a little louder or squirm a little more.

Suddenly, Johnny pulled back, stimulating your clit with his thumb instead. You opened your eyes, seeing his lips and chin glistening with your juices. He stopped jerking off to put his hand beside you on the mattress, leaning forward, your mouth agape as he kissed Simon, the blond’s tongue lapping at your arousal on his friend’s face. The scene was so weirdly hot that it tipped you over the edge, your loud moans and gasps for air interrupting their makeout session, both boys looking down at you as you unravelled around the Scot’s fingers, sporting a cocky grin. “Look at ‘er Johnny, think she can still go?” Simon asked, Johnny’s cerulean eyes meeting the blond’s brown ones. “Got to, we just started.”

Simon manoeuvred you so he was lying under you, making you straddle his lap. Johnny’s hands were on your waist, lining your entrance to his rosy tip. “Guys,” you mumbled. “I never-” “‘S okay, y/n,” Simon whispered gently, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “We’re the ones you trust most in the world, right? We’re going to treat you so well.” Johnny hummed in agreement from behind, watching his friend’s cock tease your weeping hole. You weren’t a virgin, you had already had sex, some meaningless hookups, but never a threesome; your first one being with them surely wasn’t on this year’s bucket list.

You slowly lowered yourself on Simon’s cock, his girth stretching you out deliciously, coaxing a long, pleased moan as you descended, your walls hugging him perfectly. “Fuck,” Johnny groaned behind you. “Fuck…” you sighed, seeing Simon watching you with an amused look. “I know your little cunt would feel like the best on the fucking earth.” He praised gruffly, his hand coming to rest on the curve of your ass. He started to move his hips up into your cunt with deliberate strokes, his other hand tracing along your spine as your chest came to meet his, enjoying your soft sounds in his ear.

Then, you felt something moist hit your puckered hole, making you shiver, but Simon simply caressed your bottom, gently spreading you. “‘S alright, y/n. Johnny will be gentle. Right, Johnny?” He said, his tone turning stern, as if he was warning the brunette. “Aye, aye.” He replied, before he inserted a digit, your breath hitching at the unfamiliar sensation. “Johnny,” you pleaded breathlessly, Simon’s dick still gently sliding in and out of you. “Be gentle, or I swear to god I’m breaking that pretty little nose.”

“Ye think my nose is pretty? Ye’re flatterin’ me, y/n.” He chuckled, laughing even more when you snarled at him. You felt him spit again, then another finger followed, and he started to move both around to get you adjusted to the feeling. You were a moaning and squirming mess, the fullness you were feeling was confusing, you liked it but it also felt weird as fuck. “How you feelin’, beautiful?” Simon asked, kissing your cheek tenderly. You only managed a confused babble, already overwhelmed by having both your holes filled.

“Keep ‘er nice and spread, mate,” Johnny murmured, stroking his cock, getting ready to insert it. The blond obliged, your heartrate picking up as you felt him remove his fingers, only to start pushing in the head. It fucking hurt. You cried out softly, but Simon’s gentle thrusts were taking your mind off the pain. A string of curses fell from Johnny’s lips, your untouched hole squeezing him impossibly tight, no matter how hard you tried to focus on relaxing your muscles.

When the first two inches were in, Simon started to pick up his pace, fucking into you slightly faster, so you wouldn’t notice Johnny’s cock slowly filling you more and more. You were impossibly wet, Simon’s name leaving your lips like a prayer, already too drunk on the feeling to say something more articulated. So you didn’t even notice when Johnny bottomed out inside of you, his dick not as girthy as Simon’s, but still pretty long. When he started to move his hips as well, you suddenly remembered that he was in your ass, and that was your sanity’s undoing.

The two boys met each other at a shared pace, both thrusting into you as heat quickly coiled up in your stomach as the swirl of sensations brought you closer to the edge. Simon’s cock was drowning in your juices, creating the most obscene sounds known to man as he slammed into you. Your moans filled the room, the boy’s grunts only serving to edge you closer. Johnny was folded over you, as he sometimes kissed your neck, or Simon, or both of you at the same time.

You had never felt so connected to them, so safe, and so loved. You knew they would never hurt you, or let anything or anyone hurt you. They were your protectors, your knights in shining armour, who had only had eyes for you and you only for the longest time, yet it had somehow gone right over your head.

You were all close, so close, until the knot in your stomach snapped, your loud moan making the others follow suit right after. Warm cum spurted inside both your cunt and your ass, hips stuttering, balls pressed against you as they tried to reach as deep as possible inside you, filling you to the brim.

All three of you were completely out of it, trying to breathe normally again as the boys went soft inside you, deflating as they rode out their high. Once they had unsheathed themselves, you all tried to fit awkwardly onto your queen sized bed, Simon and Johnny being too large to fit on their own, so you were all comically squeezed together on the mattress. “How long have you guys been planning it?” You asked softly, half.lidded eyes gazing up to the ceiling. “Forever,” Johnny answered. “She said plannin’, not dreamin’ ya tit.” Simon retorted. You sniggered, shaking your head. “Well, either way, I think we can replicate it sometimes,” you murmured, your head turning left and right to look at both of them.

Nothing had changed. They were still your boys. 

•This is an original work of fiction, please do not translate or share on this or any other platforms without credit•

[fuckmeyer]

timewarp!twilight: a time travel au

[throughout the series, Bella Swan has prophetic dreams that reveal her future (or present predicament) in cryptic ways. but tho Bella can peek forward in time, her true power lies in the past.]

time first unzips when James sinks his teeth into Bella at the ballet studio.

the burning in her veins overwhelms her. for a delirious moment she seizes from venom & bleeds out on a hospital room's tile floor where her mother is giving birth. to her.

the Cullens barge into the studio. Bella's writhing on the ground. they never see the warp. a stunned James is defeated.

Bella says nothing, chalking it up to a near-death experience. ofc she can't unravel the fabric of time lol like what?? who does that???

over summer, night terrors haunt her when Edward is away.

the "good" dreams give her flashes of the future. wolves. light. cliffs. a stone antechamber. red hair. a casket.

it's the nightmares she fears the most.

her PTSD-fueled flashbacks feel so real, she unzips time to escape James's attack & wakes up in random places as if sleepwalking.

at first they're tiny jumps. a few minutes back. then several months before she meets Edward. then the day Renee leaves Charlie with Bella in tow.

the night after her disastrous birthday party, her nightmare dumps her in the back alley of a neon-lit diner.

this isn't home. not 2006, not 1996, not 1986, even...

disoriented, she stumbles in and sits at the counter. the folded newspaper by the napkin dispenser, the Philadelphia Herald, reads March 3rd, 1950.

oh god.

when she looks up, a familiar pixie-haired vampire stares back at her with moony gold eyes.

"you've kept me waiting a long time," says Alice, pushing a plate of pancakes toward her.

time zips. back in bed. morning. 2006. Bella scrambles to school to tell Edward about the time skips.

ofc, it's hard to speak when you're being sucker-punched in the gut by your first love's painful breakup monologue.

instead of confessing, Bella says goodbye.

October. November. December. January.

as the wolves shift and Laurent stops in for a visit snack, Forks gets all gunked up with paranormal vibes. Bella warps further back for longer periods. 1935. 1933. 1911. 1863.

luckily, she often crosses paths with the Cullens. as humans, she knows, they won't remember her. it's cathartic to see them, if only for a few moments...but it's never enough.

she pulls increasingly dangerous stunts to keep traveling. motorcycling. chasing wolves. stalking vampires. on & on.

Bella dives off a cliff to chase the visions.

she smacks the water & warps to 1918.

human Edward Masen immediately falls in love with a drenched & shivering Bella Swan. over the evening, she falls in love with him. again. ugh.

but was it a time skip, or a near-death experience? she wakes up coughing water, Jake breathing life into her on the beach.

Alice returns. with a renewed love for Edward (ugh), Bella jets off to Italy to save him & meet the Volturi.

back in forks, the vote ignites a fiery rage she'd buried for months.

how could they do this to her? how could they break her heart & leave her behind when she needed them?? did they even stop to think about Laurent??? the wolves?! VICTORIA?!!

just as she lunges for Edward to rip his stupid face off, time unzips in front of them & she vanishes.

further back than she's ever gone.

London. 1640s.

human Carlisle tries using a silver cross to defend himself against a starving vampire while Bella looks on.

when the vampire's eyes find hers, the horror of what Bella has been doing settles in like a dense fog.

with each time skip, Bella seals their fate.

not only is Bella the thread that ties the Cullens together in time, but Bella aligns the stars for every member to become a vampire.

in the 1640s, she is the scent that pulls the starving vampire away from Carlisle.

in 1863, María sees Bella's warp & pursues her until she finds confederate Jasper Hale on his way to Galveston.

in 1911, her time skip startles 16 y.o. Esme out of a tree, breaking the girl's leg. she is treated by Dr. Cullen.

in 1918, a cold & wet Bella gives Edward the flu.

in 1933, Carlisle spots Bella on his way home from the hospital & finds her so eerily familiar he calls out & rushes to catch up. frightened by the commotion, Royce et al leave a dying Rosalie in the street.

in 1935, warping into a forest pisses off a huge black bear. Emmett saves her & subsequently gets mauled.

in 1950, she listens to Alice tell the story of her only human memory: prophesizing as a little girl about the "lady in the blue jeans" who comes to visit, to the horror & disgust of her superstitious parents. they throw her in an insane asylum.

now, in 2006, she reappears & falls at the Cullens' feet. her face reflects their looks of shock.

it was her. it was always her.

& all because she ditched Alice & Jasper to confront James at the ballet studio.

"oh god," she whispers from the floor in a broken voice. tears blur her vision. Bella looks up at the family of vampires. "i think i've made a terrible mistake."

[shinning-whammy]

Is there a difference between never alone au and the Mourning and Mending au?

There was a reason why I was avoiding giving likes or making fanarts about that Au is precisely to avoid confusion but yes there are differences.

besides the character designs, dogday does not hate catnap but he does forget his past which makes dogday close to catnap even thoughcatnap tries to distance him or the others try to distance them from each other

Dogday temporarily does not use his bandages and belts because he does not remember what happened but once the memories come he will start using his belts like he used to when he was a biger body this more to hide his marks

Bobby and Crafty are the ones who hate Catnap while Crafty feels embarrassed around Dogday. (because crafty hurt dogday)

The other smiling critters, despite not hating Catnap, don't like to be around him and are more overprotective of Dogday.

Piggy doesn't like to be around of dogday or catnap besides being vegan because she has hallucinations of when she cooked her own friends.

Dogday now has a split personality, this is Red Dogday, he does remember the past and he hates Catnap, so he will not limit himself to seriously hurting catnap, although Red Dogday does not appear very often.

The pendants are not broken but they can be damaged depending on how much the heart of one of them is broken. Furthermore, the only pendants that can shine are Dogday and Catnap and they must be put together to heal each other's souls.

dogday, catnap, piggy and crafty suffer from nightmares

The other critters will little by little begin to help Catnap as they see him very hurt due to Red Dogday.

The player shows up to help Dogday and mentally torture Catnap.

Poppy, kissi Missy and Ms. Delight appear from time to time but their roles are more of a mother figure.

When Dogday recovers his memories, he won't hate Catnap, but he will be somewhat afraid of him. That won't stop them from starting things over again to be friends.

Catnap tries to flee the place several times but he will not be allowed, making him return to the same place as always. he can only leave the place if he goes in a group or with dogday.

Dogday will sometimes get tired because he has not yet gotten used to his paws, which will make him have to rest several times because his paws do not react at certain times. He will not know why this happens, but after recovering his memories he will know that it is due to the trauma of the past.

Catnap and Piggy are the only ones who can feel physical pain. The others can only feel it if they hurt themselves.

catnap still has its red smoke but in light doses during the day and normal doses at night

catnap is the one who does not want to join the group but it is dogday that little by little he will make he be integrated into the group

The nightmares, marks on their bodies and memories they have depend on what happens in red therapy Au

and thats all for now to no be so long lol

[bestworstcase]

Tbh I don't think anyone's saying that Oz has Never Done Anything Wrong Ever, or at least, personally, that's not my belief.

While personally I believe that Oz hasn't tried actually destroying Salem or erasing her from anyone knowing about her at all, I ALSO believe that Salem Is Not an irredeemable monster. I do believe she's trying to overthrow the gods rn, and that she hates the sword of damocles that is the mandate and has been trying to keep Oz from summoning the gods up until now (bc yknow, why wouldn't she try keeping the Relics from him??).

Plus, her fear wouldn't be unfounded (I still believe Oz was gunning for the task for a long time), and the narrative of "Salem is right" can still easily happen. Plus it's not like Oz is innocent; 1. He lied to Salem for their entire marriage 2. He decided to gun for the task Light gave him 3. Hasn't even tried communicating with Salem and 4. Has demonized her in his mind and to those in his circle. Both and neither are at fault imo. Oz fucked up big time, and he knows this, but the belief Salem hates him and his own self hate is keeping him from Actually Doing Anything. I think this also goes for Salem, fear and possibly self hate keeping her from communicating.

I just come from the perspective that both fucked up, Oz a bit more than Salem ofc. I just think that Oz isn't nearly as bad as people make him out to be. Like, this probably sounds really rude so I'm sorry in advance (/gen), but I feel like Oz being paranoid for No Reason and constantly trying to destroy Salem or erase her from public knowledge and demonizing her for No Reason beyond his own paranoia and unwillingness to change makes him seem... almost cartoonishly bad. Like it makes him sound like an abusive husband 100x worse than Adam and Jacques combined. And beyond that, it makes Salem seem completely innocent pre-war, that she was just dealing with her Abusive Husband who's delusional and paranoid.

To me, it doesn't feel nuanced, or at least as nuanced. I DO like the idea, but only as an AU. Not only that but I feel like it'd be really unfriendly to casual fans, people who don't do analysis n stuff, bc unless you bother analyzing every 2 second scene, you won't pick a lot of this up. And this is in terms of the writers, not you lol. Rwby IS meant to be analyzed, but not a lot of people will bother, and those who do haven't exactly picked any of this up.

I do think they're good theories to have though. Really it just gives me an excuse to re-analyze scenes and see if my thinking is flawed. I mean, if it's straight up Confirmed that your theories are right, then I'll be like "Oh, huh, I was wrong". I figured I'd just give insight to what people are probably saying bc I haven't seen anyone say that Oz is an innocent uwu wet paper bag. Cause he's NOT innocent, but I just don't think he's as bad or evil as people insist he is. And I do my best to analyze without any form of bias. I *did* come to the same conclusion about Salem lol.

Anyways sorry, this got long dhchvj. I hope I don't sound rude, I'm really tone blind (autism), I'm just doing my best to give insight to what people think. Cause trust me, it annoys me just as much as you to see people try to claim that Oz is innocent or that Salem is an irredeemable abusive witch. Cause obv neither is true lmao.

I hope you have a good day :] /gen

you’re fine. 

the core issue i have with the reasoning laid out here is that it demands a presupposition that oz is… well, a miserable spineless cowardly fraud who’s spent untold millennia pretending to believe in a pointless cause that he knows he will never lift a finger to advance in any meaningful sense. because it’s made quite clear that ozpin’s inner circle believes that they’ve been at war with salem for decades, that the huntsmen academies are fortresses oz built not to merely defend the relics but specifically to "stop salem"—that’s the language qrow uses in V4 and oz echoes it in V5—and that this is what oz has been doing for centuries if not   thousands of years, fighting to protect remnant from salem. 

the way qrow discusses the great war in both WOR and V4 insinuates that the conflict was really a proxy war between oz and salem, glynda chides ironwood by telling him "ozpin has experience the rest of us lack," in V3 the inner circle tells pyrrha "we are the protectors of this world" and "our group was founded [hundreds of years ago] to protect both mankind and the maidens" by "remov[ing] the maidens from the public eye, allowing their existence to fade away into legend." or as qrow puts it in V2, "we’re the ones that keep the world safe from the evils no one even knows about!"—i.e., from salem—"[which is] why we meet behind closed doors, why we work in the shadows."

now, while ozpin’s difficult relationship with the truth means we do need to be skeptical as to the veracity of these historical claims… the inner circle is circumspect on the details, but they’re not lying or misrepresenting the purpose of their group. they earnestly believe these things because this what ozpin told them, and in V5 we see oz recount the same general narrative to team RNJR: "i am the combination of countless men who have spent their lives trying to protect the people of remnant […] this curse was bestowed on me by the gods because i failed to stop salem in the past, but we must stop her now."

so there is no ambiguity at all about the story oz tells his closest allies: he is trying to protect the world from an ancient hidden evil called salem, who defeated him once in the distant past but can be stopped now by keeping the relics out of her hands, and in order to do that it is essential to keep the relics and the maidens secret (lest world rip itself apart in wars to claim this incredible power) and likewise to ensure that salem’s existence remains hidden (lest everyone panic and be wiped out by grimm). oz and his inner circle frame this as an secret struggle that has been ongoing for centuries, if not thousands of years. 

his inner circle had no reason to disbelieve what ozpin told them prior to jinn’s tale. and even after the lost fable, no one questions the narrative that oz has been fighting salem for a very long time. "ozpin believed that the best way to fight salem was to do it in secret," says ironwood. "ozpin spent his whole life, many lives, keeping this secret," says qrow. later in V7, ironwood describes salem as "an ancient and terrible evil," and in V8 ruby says "this isn’t some new enemy or invading kingdom, this is a force we’ve faced before, for centuries… salem."

for the moment we’ll just accept the presupposition that salem’s war against the huntsmen academies began with the attack on amber following perhaps a decade of planning and careful preparation, incited by whatever happened when she met summer rose, and that before that time salem was not actively participating in shadow war. 

if this is taken to be true, the question with regard to how ozma has spent all this time becomes: do we believe that he’s been doing what he says he has—trying to "stop salem" by guarding the relics and keeping all these secrets—or not? because it is undeniably true that this is what ozma CLAIMS to have been doing for centuries if not millennia. when ozpin tells people this story about who he is and what he’s spent lifetimes trying to do, is it because he genuinely believes that he and salem have been embroiled in a secret cold war all this time, or… is he just lying?

why would he lie about that? 

consider the things he definitely did lie about. why didn’t he tell anyone that salem can’t be killed? he feared they would fall into despair and give up, lose all hope and the will to keep fighting. why did he lie about his personal history with salem? he believes loving her is his greatest mistake ("the hearts of men are easily swayed" etc) and he feels ashamed, guilty, regretful, desperate to make amends yet certain she will never forgive him and terrified that even if she did it would doom the world—the truth is messy and complicated and he’s convinced that what he wants is evil, so he buries it. 

why, then, would he pretend to still be fighting her when he actually isn’t? if ozma had, at some point, resolved this inner turmoil on the side of "salem was right, the god of light is wrong, i am not going to fulfill my task and will instead dedicate my existence to insuring that the relics are never brought together, the best way to protect remnant is by rejecting the gods and their redemption," why would he lie about that? why would he continue to promote faith in the two brothers and the final judgment he foretold long ago (ozpin includes this story in his anthology with notes urging his readers to believe in it and to act each day as if the gods will return tomorrow)? why keep telling his closest allies, his friends, life after life, that he was sent to remnant by the gods themselves to stop salem from changing the world? 

why wouldn’t he change course?—and i want to be very clear that i’m not asking why he wouldn’t seek reconciliation with salem, because emotionally that’s quite a lot harder. but if he decided the divine mandate was bullshit and he wasn’t going to follow it any longer, why would he not… er… stop telling people that the brothers are the Real True Gods who left behind these divine relics which he is put on this world to keep safe until the final judgment? 

ozma strove to keep salem and the relics a secret for lifetimes—and ozpin was stridently opposed to revealing the truth, we see him and his inner circle balk at the idea time and again explicitly because ozpin insists that secrecy is essential to stopping salem, so we have no reason to doubt that he really did feel strongly that keeping these secrets kept people safe—so in the event he changed his mind and came to believe that the brothers were enemies of humanity who must be kept at bay… surely he would shut his mouth. 

but the brothers and their final judgment aren’t a secret! ozpin published that story in a book of fairytales with a commentary telling his readers to prepare themselves to be judged! after jinn’s tale, nobody freaks out about the divine threat of execution should mankind prove unworthy because they already knew that part; it’s the mainstream doctrine of a well-known religion that exists all around the world, which qrow and ozpin had already told them was real and true. 

oz is not a bad person. he certainly isn’t some sort of craven charlatan who’s spent thousands of years exhorting the world to believe in and follow a creed he secretly opposes—even if he still believed that salem was dangerous and needed to be stopped, it would be so simple to cast the gods as dangerous adversaries who must also be prevented from ever coming back. 

like, he wants people to live. he wants the world to be safe, even if at the cost of his own happiness. that is always what ozma is trying to achieve—even during the ozlem kingdom, he sacrificed the happiness he’d found with salem in their little cottage to try uniting the world with her because he truly, genuinely believed his happiness came at the cost of humanity’s salvation. 

it follows that the reason ozpin tells his close allies that it is his god-given task to stop salem by keeping the relics out of her grasp whilst striving for unity and keeping all this a secret, he does so because he truly, genuinely believes that it’s the best way to protect the world. likewise, when he uses his public platform as the headmaster of a prestigious academy to publish an anthology of tales, including the one about the two brothers that articulates the divine mandate exactly, upon which he comments this: 

We have a fragile peace, and in some ways, we are more divided than ever. Even if the gods aren’t real, even if they don’t return to judge us for our deeds, we should act each day as though they are arriving tomorrow. In the end, we will be the arbiters of our fates. We will either create a beautiful, peaceful world and live in harmony together or destroy ourselves and our planet, and the gods will judge what we have chosen.

ozpin really earnestly does believe that proselytizing the brothers, imploring everyone to live as if the gods will return for the final judgment tomorrow, while keeping salem, the maidens, and the relics secret, is necessary and the best way to keep people safe. he wouldn’t be doing this if he thought it didn’t protect people!

so the story he tells his inner circle about WHAT he does—his purpose, his methods, his strategy—is true. it must be true because it would be both reprehensible and beyond foolish for ozpin to convince his allies they’re fighting in a war he knows isn’t real for a cause he doesn’t actually believe in, and ozpin is neither reprehensible nor stupid.

it follows that ozpin a) believes he has been fighting a protracted covert war over the relics with salem since the ages, and b) can be taken at his word when he says that insuring the relics and salem’s existence remain secret is an essential part of his strategy, especially because without fail he prioritizes secrecy above every other concern throughout V1-6 so he’s very much putting his money where his mouth is in that regard.

in V3, the inner circle makes the claim that their predecessors ("this brotherhood"), centuries ago, chose to "remove the maidens from the public eye, allowing them to fade away into legend." while i do have my doubts about the historical accuracy of that claim—a) the nature of the maiden inheritance rules would make it very difficult to keep the maidens under wraps and b) i think it’s more likely that ozma always intended for the maidens to act covertly, didn’t know what would happen when the first four died, and only pieced it together after a few centuries had gone by and he started to hear stories about young women blessed with magical power and went "…ah."—i don’t think there’s any reason to doubt that the maidens became a fairytale because ozma decided they should be kept secret. 

neither oz nor his inner circle make an exactly equivalent claim about salem… but. the situations are quite similar: the maidens were once "common knowledge," and when ozma first reincarnated he traveled around for years hearing tales of "the witch" wherever he went. some time long ago, ozma and his allies undertook to suppress public knowledge of the maidens, and in the present the last trace remaining is an old fairytale that no one could believe holds any real truth. as for salem, no one knows about her anymore either, and "ozpin spent all his life, many lives keeping this secret." 

the existence of the relics, similarly, is a secret because ozma chose to keep them secret—although the crown seems to have passed through at least a few pairs of hands before ozma tracked it down, hence the fairytale. (this is a subject for another post, but i actually don’t think 'the indecisive king' is about ozma—ozpin’s commentary on it is VERY impersonal and perfunctory compared to what he has to say about 'the infinite man,' 'the girl in the tower,' 'the story of the seasons,' or even 'the grimm child.' i think the original inspiration for the tale was some other person who had the crown before ozma found it, and he included the story because, as he says, he thinks it has an important message.)

so, basically, in the present ozpin and his inner circle are hiding three big secrets: the maidens, the relics, and salem. it’s stated outright that the maidens are secret because ozma and his allies chose to hide them from the world. 

of the relics, three are entirely unknown and one is the subject of a single fairytale of which the reliability is unknown (although my bet is on "the real crown isn’t that straightforward and may not actually work like that at all"); oz has been in possession of all four for at least fifty or so years. we know he found the lamp first, thousands of years ago, that he used both the sword and the crown to end the great war eighty years ago, and ozpin raised atlas using the staff. it’s very likely that he found the other three much earlier. the fairytale inspired by the crown suggests that one might have eluded him for a while.

in any case, once he had them all (and a few centuries had gone by to allow the story about the crown to be forgotten as anything but a fiction), ozma would’ve had nearly absolute power to decide who knew about them—salem being the only other person who could tell anyone, and at the time she didn’t know anything more than "there are four relics of some kind, somewhere in the world, that will call the gods to remnant to judge humankind if they’re ever brought together."

so the relics, too, are secret because ozma decided to keep them secret.

this leaves salem. before the rise and fall of the ozlem kingdom, she lived on the fringes of civilization and knowledge of her existence was widespread. (her decrepit house sat at the end of a paved, well-maintained footpath—she was within walking distance of the nearest town and did not make herself remotely difficult to find.) thousands of years later? nothing but fairytales that are, like 'the story of the seasons' and 'the indecisive king,' either believed to be entirely fictional or (in the case of 'the grimm child') about a real, if very rare, phenomenon unrelated to salem herself. 

this is not something that could have happened at all if salem hadn’t withdrawn from civilization as far as she did—which is one of the core reasons i think she hasn’t been at war with ozma all this time—so she tacitly allowed it to happen. but why did she withdraw so far? 

here is the part where it gets murky and highly speculative because we just don’t know what happened or where she went or what she did in those first few hundred years after the ozlem kingdom fell. it is plausible that salem just ran and kept running until she’d gotten as far away from people as it was possible to get, and stayed there in self-imposed isolation until, well, now—in which case ozma’s effort to suppress the knowledge of her existence would have mainly entailed not telling anyone about her and maybe destroying bits and pieces of the historical record. 

(i do think he’s made an active effort to keep her secret all this time, regardless: that is his first priority at all times until jinn spills the beans in V6, and if he can’t keep the world safe by destroying her then making sure the world doesn’t know she exists is the obvious Plan B. if nobody knows about her, no one can piss off the gods by siding with her. it’s really more a question of whether she put up a fight.)

hooowever. salem is a character defined by loneliness and longing for freedom, which to her explicitly means connection with others. love. companionship. this is why the gods punish her by making her immortal—separating her from the one she loves forever—and then when she overcomes that by going out into the world and turning her immortality into a gift that brings her closer to people and allows her to form new alliances and friendships, rather than a curse imprisoning her in isolation, the gods just. kill everyone. and leave her alone in the ashes. 

and as i said, even when salem is miserably isolating herself before ozma, she isn’t that far away from civilization—she’s living by herself but close enough to somewhere that she could walk into town, and her presence there was not only well-known but welcomed enough that people built a road right to her doorstep. this during a period of her life when she was so profoundly depressed that her house was rotting and falling apart around her! 

the point is that while salem does inarguably have self-isolating tendencies, i… don’t think hers are anywhere close to being as severe as ozma’s. his rendition of himself in 'the story of the seasons' may well be more poetic than literal ("So cold was his heart that the lands around him were covered in snow, the trees were bare, and animals and Creatures of Grimm alike avoided him. For centuries, no one dared disturb his peace…"), but at the time ozma certainly would have had the magical power to freeze all the land for miles around to keep people away from him, and even if it’s only a metaphor for how he felt then the implication is that he hid himself away in total solitude for possibly multiple consecutive lifetimes…

…whereas salem, at her absolute lowest, in the darkest depths of her self-isolating depression, lived by herself a short way from the edge of some town whose residents were probably rather wary of her (she’s not exactly friendly, nor human, and everyone knows she’s a witch) but nevertheless accepted her as a member of their community (because salem certainly wasn’t the one bothering to take care of that path). 

the way things ended between her and ozma, his deception, the deaths of their children, their kingdom collapsing, all of this was extremely traumatic for her and haunts her to this day just as ozma; i have no trouble at all believing that salem would flee to the edge of the world in the immediate aftermath. 

but i find it a lot more difficult to believe that she would stay there for thousands upon thousands of years if the only thing preventing her from returning to the margins of civilization were her own guilt and self-hatred. the gods punishing her by murdering the whole world, being completely alone for hundreds of millions of years, grimming herself, and the way humans would have treated her in an era when faunus were hunted down and caged like beasts wasn’t enough to drive salem into exile. i don’t believe her self-loathing, by itself, is strong enough to overpower her desperation to be free for very long.

i also really doubt that ozma would just, for lack of a better word, trust her to stay gone. especially not if—as jinn implies—he believed salem kept finding him somehow and sending grimm after him, which probably wasn’t true (her command over the grimm seems to be restricted to the ones she makes, and the incarnations we see in this part of the lost fable were not at all significant persons easily identifiable as ozma), but it isn’t an unreasonable fear for him to have? given how badly things ended between them. 

we know salem doesn’t like, obsessively devote her time to scrying until she’s found ozma again (because she doesn’t bother to do that after ozpin dies, she’s caught completely off guard by oscar—and if she doesn’t do so while she is actively waging war against him, it’s unlikely that it ever crossed her mind to try it at all, or else her scrying just doesn’t work that way), but ozma doesn’t have any way of knowing that. we know salem doesn’t control every grimm in the world, and oz seems to have figured that out eventually, but in those first few centuries before he found the lamp? he had no idea what salem might be capable of, what powers she might have hidden from him!

like it isn’t that ozma has No Reason to be paranoid. he knows that he hurt her really badly and that when salem gets hurt she lashes out, often in extremely vindictive and extremely violent ways. (he has no way of knowing that salem has spent these thousands of years clawing her temper under control, and no reason to think she would try.) he probably had no idea to what extent salem being grimm might be influencing her thinking—that’s where all the really deep distortions start to take root, ozma anxiously second-guessing every little thing like were there warning signs i ignored? was he right? did i let infatuation blind me to what she’d become from the very start?—by the time he finds the lamp, assuming jinn didn’t skip over any lives, he’s on his fourth life since the end; that’s a span of like, at least two to three hundred years depending how long he lived and how much time it took him to reincarnate each time. 

that is plenty enough time to convince himself she’s nothing but an evil monster who needs to be put down before he finds the lamp, and then he immediately uses his three questions for that lifetime so it would be another full century after that before he had the opportunity to ask jinn anything about… what salem is doing now, or what she lied to him about, or if she told him the truth after all. which is a terrifying prospect to even consider after a) multiple centuries marinating in an inescapable anxiety torment nexus echo chamber and b) hearing she can’t be destroyed, period. like what if the truth turns out to be "yeah the pool of grimm destroyed her soul and also she wants to burn the world to the ground and eat your heart now because you ruined her FOREVER!!! and there is nothing you or anyone else can do to fix her. you stupid fuck." like his cursed haunted brain keeps screaming at him 24/7?!

so.

we don’t really know anything about this period of time before ozma went after the lamp, except that "no matter where or how he lived, her presence was always felt." jinn combines that with a memory of two beowolves attacking ozma’s town to insinuate that salem kept sending grimm after him, or at least that ozma believed as much. 

but. but—"during his years of travel, he heard the same frightened whispers that spoke of a terrifying sorceress who commanded dark powers in the wilds, among the beasts and monsters. ozma was convinced that this woman was salem, and decided that he needed to see what she had become."

"but no matter where or how he lived, her presence was always felt. if humanity were ever to stand a chance at being united, one thing was clear… [he had to destroy salem.] knowing he could never rid the world of her through any mortal means, ozma sought out the power of the relics: armed with my knowledge, he believed he could fulfill his promise to the god of light."

<- these are parallel statements. everywhere he travels, he hears stories about a witch; no matter where or how he lives, her presence is always felt. ozma was convinced that this terrifying sorceress was salem; ozma grew convinced that he had to destroy salem for humanity’s sake. he needed to see what she had become; he needed to find the lamp to guide him. see the repetition? the echo?

i don’t think salem just vanished into the wilderness. i imagine she ran pretty fucking far, but remnant is a big world and there are people all over—there have even been people living in the southern region of the now-uninhabited continent where salem presumably lives, based on the map shown in WOR: vale. 

(the markers for those settlements are red in color; all the other markers are color-coded to the kingdoms, orange for vacuo, green for vale, while for atlas, blue for mistral, yellow for menagerie and what i assume are a couple of faunus settlements in southern anima, with tracks with the white fang’s headquarters being located vaguely in anima. in the blood-splattered map in the great war episode, there’s a fire burning in the southern peninsula of the uninhabited continent—implying battles were fought there and possibly that some of those red settlements existed as recently as eighty years ago. 

i turn this over in my mind a lot. it doesn’t make any sense to me to think that salem could have been remotely present in civilization anywhere within the past century, but rwby is so particular about color that the only reason to choose red for the now-defunct(?) settlements on the continent where salem lives would be to imply some degree of association with her, and if a WHOLE KINGDOM had been destroyed i think that would have been mentioned so these were probably just free towns and villages—possibly with a loose connection to vacuo? it’s sort of the logical place for displaced peoples from vacuo to wind up after fleeing their conquered kingdom. and in that case their "connection" to salem might be nothing more than her having taken pity on a bunch of refugees with nowhere else to go and kept the grimm off their backs until the great war…happened. but i would like to know.)

…the point being, i think "her presence was always felt" because salem, after some decades, maybe a century, hating herself deep in the wilderness, crept back to lurking on the periphery of civilization because a) ozma was gone and she had no idea where, when, or even if he would ever come back again and b) no matter how determined she is to punish herself, she just isn’t capable of wallowing in abject misery forever, even when she was the only person alive with absolutely no hope she kept moving until she found something to try.

so naturally people would have kept gossiping about the terrifying dark witch who lives in the woods among the beasts and monsters, and ozma would have known it was her. imagine if he’d reincarnated for the second or third time, wound up on a different continent altogether, and immediately started hearing the exact same sort of frightened whispers as before? even if it was pure unfortunate coincidence and salem did not have the slightest idea he was there, how terrifying that would be? and if salem didn’t want him to find her because she was scared or ashamed or angry or all three, then she couldn’t stay in any one place for too long—so this sort of indirect crossing paths oh-gods-she’s-already-found-me nightmare scenario could conceivably happen more than once.

(frankly, even if salem wanted nothing to do with him and was trying her level to avoid him without just never being able to come within sight of another person again, i think her not vanishing forever makes ozma’s intense paranoia so much more understandable because like. very literally, no matter where he lived, her presence would always be there—rumors, frightened whispers, everywhere. of course he’d start seeing her in the shadow of every grimm!)

i don’t think they’ve ever actually come face-to-face since that night—maybe glimpsed each other from afar across a battlefield, but if they’d met or spoken to each other i imagine it would have been necessary for jinn to show it happening. BUT i do think it’s likelier than not that there were several centuries when salem was legitimately an inescapable presence dogging ozma through life after life because she was just sort of… wandering around in a miserable traumatic haze on the very, very edge of civilization. and people talked about her.

so he went for the lamp, and fell into the depths of despair when jinn crushed whatever passed for his hope at that point. that is, almost certainly, what pushed him into his hermit era. 

now! if the fairytale’s centuries of eternal winter isn’t a pure fiction—if there is even the smallest kernel of literal truth in there as to ozma using magic to force people, animals, and grimm to stay far away from him, then. if salem was not already living in exile, this would have been when she began to hear rumors about him. yes? this is the first thing he does that would rise to the level of local legend salem might possibly hear. 

that his seclusion ended with "and then i met four young women who reminded me how to be a person so i gave them my magic" as opposed to "and then salem turned up with thousands of grimm to murder me and salt the earth" suggests that if she wasn’t living in exile at this time, her interest was probably more in avoiding him than vengeance.

and if that’s so, what does she do upon finally discovering where he is? er, probably travel as far away from the Cursed Wizard Forest as it is geographically feasible to go and decide that this is fine, that’s his continent and this is her continent and they can just stay on opposite sides of the planet until the end of time and never have speak to or see each other again. amen. 

if we take the fairytale literally, several centuries pass. lifetimes. enough time for salem to find somewhere to, if not quite belong, at least become a constant because well she’s been here since before granny was even born and no one knows who or what she is because she doesn’t really talk to anyone, but she’s not hurting anyone either, and legend has it that a goliath once attacked our town and the witch just walked out of the woods and exploded it with a glare, and that’s why grimm never come here, so she’s our witch. maybe enough time to send someone halfway across the world to check on the Cursed Wizard Forest to reassure herself that yes ozma’s still there, he’s not going to come after her and he must have come to his senses about the gods so she’s. safe. ish. as long as no one ever finds those relics. 

the fairytale ends with the hermit dividing his magic among the four maidens, and then he says: "My rest is over. It is time for me to resume my journey and work as well."—they didn’t just resuscitate ozma’s will to live, they restored his faith and his commitment to his task. maybe the world can be saved! maybe he can really do it this time, now that he’s found people willing to help him shoulder the burden!

(i do firmly believe that ozma told the original four maidens about his task and salem’s sworn hatred of the gods and the danger she could pose to the world if he emerged to try again, before offering them magic—as we see in v8, he isn’t naturally predisposed to lie or manipulate people, that’s a pattern he only falls into when he feels hopeless and scared. so i think he and the original maidens planned to gather the relics and get to work on uniting humanity, and the vague fairytale ending is an obfuscation.)

aaand i think that’s when he went after salem, because he emerged from his Cursed Wizard Forest after multiple lifetimes rotting in solitude, filled with new hope and ready to try again to complete his task, immediately tripped face-planted into rumors about the witch in the woods AGAIN and panicked. 

he can’t kill her, he can’t get rid of her… she can’t be stopped but, as oz says to hazel, she can be fought and someone has to try. doesn’t he have to try? if he believes the world can be saved, isn’t it his duty to try?—he knows she’ll never, ever bow to the brothers, she made that excruciatingly clear, and as long as she’s present in the world, as long as people might listen to her about the gods, remnant is doomed. so he has to make her go away. somehow. he has to try.

i think for salem all it would take is once. one time. if she still tried after everything to do what was right, leave him alone and not hurt anyone else and pick up the pieces as best she could. because the thing is, salem blames herself for getting her daughters killed in her anger—that’s why she tries so hard to keep her temper in 6.4—she hates herself for lashing out that night as much as ozma hates himself for the same. that self-blame would counterbalance her anger at ozma: yes he lied to her yes he tricked her yes he attacked her but she attacked him right back and now her children are dead.

how much of a temptation is vengeance with that clawing around in her head?

but if her mindset was like, "that was the most horrible thing that has ever happened to me and the worst thing i’ve ever done, and i don’t understand why he lied to me but i just want it to be done, and he’s over there and i’m over here and we can just. leave each other alone forever," and she found a place for herself where she started to feel maybe almost kind of ok again and then ozma violated the truce she’d invented in her mind but never thought to communicate to him by appearing out of the blue to attack her, completely unprovoked as far as she could tell, and whatever little town or village or even just one single person who’d been kind to her got destroyed in the resulting fight?

that’s an injustice. that’s i did nothing to deserve this, how dare you do this to me. 

and… that’s also, i think, the one thing that would compel salem to willingly cut herself off from all civilization and remain in exile for thousands and thousands of years (because she’s impossible to kill and too powerful to force her out if she decides she’s not going to go gently into the night). her fear of collective punishment. if she thought there was even the smallest chance that ozma might start doing what her father did or what his gods did to anyone close to her, i think she’d go and stay gone until she felt absolutely certain she could take him down forever.

(also theres a certain narrative elegance to the idea that they had their horrible mutual-incineration duel where they were equally matched in every way… and then ozma rotted in isolation while salem tried really hard to be okay and convinced herself they could just stay peacefully at a distance forever, until he found a spark of hope that ignited all his desperation so he went after her and she was blindsided by this truly awful and unfair and egregious thing that he did… and then she rots in isolation and ever-mounting desperation while ozma tries really hard to fix everything and pull the world into a semblance of peace until she finds a spark of hope and blindsides him with this brutally ruthless charge for the relics. 

they explode each other, fly in opposite directions—downward spiral vs picking up the pieces—then reach critical mass and explode again so hard they fully reverse positions and do the whole ordeal again. so it’s both a journey of learning to understand each other and a vicious cycle they can only escape by inversion of the first exactly-equal fight that exploded out of nowhere from a seemingly happy partnership, i.e. both reaching out unexpectedly in the midst of a seemingly inescapable conflict. it’s about symmetry)

This Has Been A Very Long Post Sorry About That. but—all speculation about the details aside—i do strongly feel that the most compassionate reading of ozma is that he is completely sincere about whathe’s trying to achieve (uniting humanity without committing genocide or turning salem into a scapegoat so everyone can be saved including her!!) but has absolutely no idea how to make it happen and has only just, in his second-to-last life as the king of vale, accepted the reality that it isn’t possible, and thence the whole building a replica of salem’s father’s castle to put his office in her tower-prison and hucking his emotionally tortured anthology of fairytales out the proverbial window (you know, like the girl in the tower who writes herself out of danger, coming from mr. fairytales this is a tornado siren of a cry for help) so forth. 

thus what he and his inner circle say about his efforts both past and present is true—he has been actively working to keep salem a secret for as long as the maidens have been hidden if not longer. as long as salem cooperated by not wandering around letting other people see and/or talk to and/or run away screaming in terror from her, what "erasing salem from public knowledge and keeping her existence secret" means, practically speaking, is tracking down any texts that clearly describe her as a real person (not a fairytale) or artistic depictions of her from the ozlem kingdom and destroying Those, and perhaps muddying the waters of all those folktales by inventing new nonsense out of whole cloth or mixing stories about her with other stories that definitely aren’t about her to a) blur the details and b) make it look to future scholars like the witch-in-the-woods was a loose folkloric archetype encompassing a huge variety of different beliefs and superstitions as opposed to one very specific kind of story about one very specific witch. 

which is a bit obsessive and weird but given the fate-of-the-world stakes at play here and the plain unarguable fact that humanity cannot be redeemed if anyone sides with salem against the brothers, which is demonstrably something she can accomplish if given the opportunity, honestly pretty restrained. 

and so the million dollar question is: what does it take for salem to cooperate by staying in exile? is the fight in lost fable and her guilt over her daughters shattering enough to lead her to just give up and hide forever alone?—who knows, right now it’s purely a matter for speculation, but i think the circumstantial evidence suggests "no" more strongly than it does "yes." 

which is not to say that she was the pure innocent victim of an abusive revenge quest, but rather that i think the facts of the situation for her would, in the immediate aftermath, tilt her in a more positive direction (he did a horrible thing but so did she, and she’s survived many horrible things before, and she can’t exactly lay down to die instead so she has to do something, and she doesn’t ever want to see him because it hurts so much and she’s so angry but her anger killed her daughters so she cannot ever let it out again so she’ll just have to stay away from him and live with it) whereas ozma. yknow. Spiraled. and her being elusive but inescapably present in the world make that so much worse, which isn’t either of their faults, it’s just a terrible situation.

it’s like. short of literally stumbling into each other by chance and yelling at each other until it was all Out There. i think no matter WHAT she did, ozma was bound to snap and lash out at her sooner or later because he spent centuries. centuries!!! with all this trauma reverberating and intensifying in his head with no reprieve because there were stories about her everywhere he went.

and then as soon as he does that salem’s lifelong extremely traumatic history with collective punishment and her self-hatred and guilt are going to smash together and she’ll run the fuck away to alternately freak herself out and plot his downfall and tailspin while ozma, meanwhile, after a few centuries of her being gone and the endless rumors fading into just old folktales no one really believes anymore, finally gets the distance he needs to catch his fucking breath—his hermit era doesn’t count he was just ruminating for centuries—so he can focus on other things. and by then keeping her a secret mostly boils down to "don’t talk about her" lmao

his paranoia never really goes away, as we see in 9.10, although he does also get really complacent by ozpin’s time, and i think it’s irrational and grounded in a lot of very wrong conclusions he reached during those first couple centuries of Spiraling—but given what he did and did not know at the time i do also think the reasoning and inferences he made were fairly logical; it becomes irrational over time as the reality of the situation (salem avoiding him) increasingly doesn’t line up with his perception, but as we see in V2-3 ozpin is supremely, irrationally confident that salem is not about to unleash a major attack, which suggests that on some level he’s aware that his paranoid beliefs are unsound even if he hasn’t yet had the conscious realization. he’s right on the cusp. 

& then none of this precludes smaller scale, limited conflicts like e.g. salem assassinating a troublesome member of his inner circle or throwing grimm at people to intensify social conflicts and insure ozma never gets comfortable enough to invite his gods to remnant. i’m very sure that salem has made it a habit to check in on him at regular intervals and cause problems if it looks like he’s doing too well because she Does Not Want him to ever summon his gods. and that’s obviously going to be one-sided because i don’t think ozma actually knows where she’s hiding, and salem’s terror of collective punishment is her own seething bundle of irrational paranoia, because after he digs himself out of Spiraling ozma absolutely would not kill people just because they happened to be near her. 

[lightninghikaru]

Hello again! First of all, I just read Ch. 4 and i am shaking with anticipation! Also thank you very much for answering my last question. I hope you don't mind me asking this, but reading your "Turning Tides" series has unintentionally inspired me to try to make a story(or possibly series i don't know yet) similar to this. You know the "Chaos Born" lore you know. However, I wanted to get your permission first before getting started.

If it helps, I'll be adding my own twists and differences especially to how certain aspects of The Chaos Born. There will be some similarities but I'll be adding something new.

Instead of the name "Chaos Born" I will be calling them "Chaos Sparks."

Chaos( or at least the mention of him), Chaos Sparks, Creatures of the night, and quite possibly pirates will be included.

Shadow will be a creature of the night, but his origins will be vastly different.

Huge difference-Sonic and Shadow have already known each other at the very start of the story... But it's complicated and very angsty.

Sonic has always been aware of what he is, but that does not take away his adventurous spirit.

Instead of Shadow already knowing Rouge and Omega, you'll get to see Shadow develop his friendship with them after meeting them. Same with Sonic developing his friendship with Tails and Knuckles.

A lot of Johnny Depp movies helped inspire this fic (Not just "Pirates of the Carribean".)

Sonic is NOT the last of his kind. (I have OC's planned).

My girl Amy is going to be an interesting character indeed. With strong ties to Sonic and Shadow.

Sticks the Badger will be involved. 'Nuff said.

While the story mostly focuses on Sonic's world-lol "His World"- There may or may not be some small crossovers with a few other video game characters. Not a lot though.

The whole thing about Chaos Sparks finding Chaos Emeralds will be in there, and they are in danger of being hunted because of the gems and their gifts. But the story is mostly about Sonic and some of his friends trying to find what they're looking for.

I am currently in the process of making a pirate OC. But I promise they will not be a cheap knock-off of Leven, Grey, Jorah, and Scaro. But especially Leven and Grey!

If you would like I could drop in a reference from your story.

"Oh strong and silent type. Yeah I once knew a bear who was like that to."

"Oh what a brawl! Kind of reminds me of that time I fought with this really huge wolf!"

Lol, I'm just chuckling as I think of Sonic saying these things so casually or excitedly.

Anyway I hope this gives you assurance. But if you don't like, I will shelve this and it won't see the light of day.

Hello!

I'm honored that my story inspired you! I love the name Chaos Sparks! I appreciate the ask and I think that even with the different race elements being in there it still sounds different enough that people won't get the two AU's confused.

I'd say to keep the two AU's separate, maybe no reference to Tides within the story. Only because that might confuse people. If you would like to comment that Tides inspired you that I don't mind.

Please keep me posted! This sounds like an exciting story full of drama and angst and pirates! (all my faves)

Thank you again for asking and good luck!