#explains how this will take away the boring repetitive tasks | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

just-come-baek · 4 years ago

Text

Merry Crisis

Pairing: hockeyplayer!jungkook x pickpocket!reader

Themes: smut | fluff | sports!au | christmas!au | yyy... action?

Word count: 12k

Summary: During a casual meeting with friends at a local ice rink, a handsome boy bumps into me. Though it was just a small accident, a series of extraordinary adventures follow, helping me realize I should really change some of my life choices.

A/N if you get uncomfortable during this story, just stop reading. it gets weird later on. Also, sorry for posting it so late, it’s still Christmas somewhere!

4 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

“What the hell are we doing here?” Kibum asked for the tenth time as he nearly slipped, even though his hands were glued to the railing. “None of us can skate for fuck’s sake,” he remarked, not being careful enough to watch his tongue, letting children hear his foul language. “We should’ve gone drinking mulled vine instead of this nonsense.”

“Speak for yourself. I am a decent skater,” I argued, though it was maybe my third time on the ice rink. The surface was slippery, yet I was brave enough to try my luck without sticking to the railing at all times.

Whoosh!

Kibum and I turned our heads around to see a few men racing on the rink like lunatics going probably at least two thousand miles per hour. They were skating so fast we barely could get a blurry image of their backs – fucking show-offs.

“Can you believe it? Fucking road hogs wanting to kill us all,” Kibum complained, searching for an exit with his eyes, desperate to get the hell away from the ice rink. “I’ve seen enough TV to know how this ends. Someone is going to leave this paddock with a blade in their neck,” he added, and I cursed in disgust, trying to erase the vivid picture my mind conjured.

“You really can ruin everything, can’t you?”

“Isn’t why you brought me here in the first place?” Kibum challenged, readjusting his woolen scarf around his neck in a fabulous diva manner. “Come on, go get Yeri. I’ll wait on the bench,” he ordered, clumsily escaping that icy trap.

“I think your cousin wouldn’t appreciate me going over there,” I stated, spotting her on the other side of the rink, flirting with a cute guy. “Now, that would be so cruel,” I added, leaning over the railing, staring at Kibum ineptly wobbling to the bench.

“What?” Kibum barked in an over-protecting manner, looking for the unworthy punk wasting Yeri’s time. “Just bring her here, please. I’m gonna treat you to lunch.”

“You should’ve said that earlier. I’m on it,” I said, content with how much I stalled the conversation to get a free meal from Kibum for completing such an easy task.

Having pushed myself off the railing, I made my way towards Yeri. She was basically at the opposite end of the ice rink, so I was forced to skate around lovely-dovey couples in the rhythm of overhyped Christmas songs.

Halfway there, the DJ ordered changing directions, so with a loud groan, I obediently turned around. Unfortunately, one of the speeding men didn’t halt quick enough and smashed right into me, ungracefully knocking me into the ice.

Crash!

It was a painful fall for both of us. If it wasn’t for the beanie with a big fluffy faux ball at the top of it, I’d most likely end up in hospital with a third-degree concussion and possible skull fraction.

Though I was in a mild shock, I could feel a nearing headache and blood dripping down my chin after his forehead collided against my nose. With his knee sharply boring into my thigh, I whined, trying to push him off of me.

At this point, I didn’t care about his injuries. He was the one who bumped into me in the first place; he deserved all the pain he was experiencing. Hopefully, it was similar to mine. According to Newton’s third law of motion, he ought to feel the same amount of pain, and if he sensed it any less, I was about to become livid about the lie I had been told at school.

“Get off of me!” I yelled, once again trying to shove him to the side. Huffing in defeat, I accepted my death by freezing my ass off due to a motionless pile of muscles lying on top of me. “Dude, move,” I tried again, and the man winced, sliding to the side.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he whispered, whimpering in ache. “Are you okay?”

“Been better,” I remarked, trying to sit up. However, as soon as I was in a sitting position, I started to feel dizzy – the surroundings just kept spinning in front of my eyes.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Two men and Yeri scared in unison as they made their way towards us. “It was quite a fall,” one of them added, making me roll my eyes. His friend literally smashed me off the ice like a bulldozer – I wouldn’t call it a fall.

“She’s bleeding,” Yeri mentioned, looking for a bag of single-use handkerchiefs to give me one to aid my problem.

“How many fingers do you see?” the other man leaned over, showing me his palm, and I swatted his hand away with an angry hiss. “You’ve hit her bad, Jungkook. Good luck apologizing to her,” he commented, making it really difficult for me not to kick him in the shin with the blade.

“Is this a joke to you?” Yeri challenged the man, not particularly enjoying his comment. Attagirl! “You better make yourself useful and carry them off the rink,” she ordered sternly, her voice laced with concern.

“Hold on, beautiful,” the shorter one said before he bent to pick me up and wrap his arms around my shoulders to carefully escort me out of the ice rink. Slowly, we staggered to the benches where the man helped me sit down. “I’m Jimin, and you are?”

“In a tremendous amount of pain,” I replied, massaging my head, trying to ease the throbbing. I was about to get a headache of a century, and they kept asking me these stupid questions.

“I’m fine, Hoseok, put me down,” the man, who had smashed into me, complained as his friends dropped him at the bench beside me. “I’ve been through worse,” he groaned, and I gritted my teeth, trying to stop my instinct to cause another scene.

Thankfully, I’ve got Kibum, who would channel his inner Karen to argue for me.

“You stupid fucks, look what you’ve done!” Kibum yelled, hitting Jungkook in the back of his head, making everyone gasp in shock. “What were you thinking, skating this fast? You’re lucky she didn’t end up with a blade stuck in her throat, or else, I’d have to murder you!”

“Guys, stop shouting,” I whispered, barely withstanding the pain. “Can we please go somewhere quiet?”

On cue, Kibum and Yeri went to get my stuff. At the same time, Jungkook’s friends walked away from us to get their belongings, leaving me alone with the villain himself.

“I’m really sorry,” Jungkook apologized once again, being considerate enough to volume down his words. “Come on. Let me help you,” he stood up, offering his hand to escort me out of the tent. Unwillingly, I grabbed his palm, allowing him to save me from random shouts of joy and repetitive Christmas hits.

Once outside, I felt a little bit better, but it was still far from perfect.

“How are you feeling? Should I take you to a hospital?” Jungkook inquired as he looked into my eyes, trying to detect any lie.

“Nah, I’m good. I think I’ll just walk it off,” I shook my head, trying to stand up to demonstrate my current state. Unfortunately, I was still a little bit shaken after the fall, almost collapsing onto the ground. “On a second thought, I’m gonna sit here for a while,” I added, sheepishly, experiencing an unfamiliar feeling of helplessness.

In silence, Jungkook and I started at each other, unsure what to do or say next. We were just two strangers who participated in an accident. Our friends were nowhere to be found, giving zero fucks about the uncomfortable moment between us.

“Should we exchange numbers?” Jungkook suddenly asked, making me crease my eyebrow in confusion. What did he need my phone number for? “When there’s a car accident, both parties exchange contact info to work out a settlement,” Jungkook explained, and I sighed, trying to digest what he just said. Apparently, he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. “Please, don’t sue me,” he added with a light-hearted giggle to his tone as he sat down on the bench.

“I didn’t plan on doing that, but since you’ve mentioned it, I’ll think about it,” I teased, reaching into my coat’s pocket to get my phone. “Give me your number, I’ll ring you,” I muttered, carefully typing Jungkook’s digits into my device. After a few seconds, Jungkook’s phone vibrated, flashing my number.

“Under what name did you save me?” Jungkook asked in curiosity, looking over my shoulder, cackling when he read totally suing this guy on the screen. “Well… at least you didn’t save me under do not pick up the phone, so that’s a relief,” he added, laughing at his joke.

Though I was a little bit curious how Jungkook saved my number, ultimately, I decided not to entertain this impulse. After all, the chances of him actually calling me were slim, if not none.

“What’s your name?” Jungkook asked, but before I managed to give him a proper reply, Kibum shouted it loud and clear from afar. “Duly noted,” he added with a tiny grin.

Along with Yeri and Jungkook’s friends, he made his way toward us, having the guys carry all our stuff like indebted servants.

“You’ll never guess,” Kibum stated, plopping on the bench beside me. At this point, I wasn’t in the mood for charades, so I just rolled my eyes, failing to accordingly react to Kibum’s attempted suspense.

Thankfully, Yuri chimed in, revealing the big plan. “We’ve talked to the guys, and they proposed to treat all of us to dinner. The race was their idea, so they figured it’s one way to make it up to you for you know what,” Yuri explained, and I sighed.

Hooray!

That’s exactly what I needed, to spend more time with the asshole that slammed into me with the force of a hundred horses.

Perfectly splendid.

“Sure, that sounds amazing,” I replied through gritted teeth, staring at that cheap bastard Kibum. He owed me dinner, so he used his sly manipulation to guilt-trip these naïve boys into treating all of us for a meal.

“See? I told you guys she doesn’t hold grudges against people who provide her with food,” Kibum answered, not surprising me all that much. I was accustomed to his ways. Jungkook, Hoseok, and Jimin, on the other hand, were about to get exploited to Kibum’s heart’s content.

But hey, free food, there’s no way I’d say no to that.

Fifteen minutes later, we were walking down the alley, looking for a restaurant or a diner that was able to provide a table for six. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on our side.

It was a long stroll. All establishments were either packed with people, or they simply weren’t capable of catering for such a large group like ours.

We didn’t give up, though. In pairs, we walked further, our stomachs growling louder and louder. Hoseok and Jimin were leading the way, chatting about some hockey game somewhat this week. Right behind, Kibum was giving a lecture on relationships to Yeri, being the highly unnecessary third parent to her. And lastly, there was Jungkook and me, awkwardly trailing behind all of them, talking about nothing in particular, unable to find a ground topic for a proper conversation.

At some point, a man in an expensive black coat bumped into me, smashing his shoulder against mine. It was quite a powerful collision on the sidewalk, resulting in me falling right into Jungkook’s arms.

“Hey, watch where the hell you’re going,” I yelled, massaging my limb to ease the soreness, while the man didn’t seem to pay any attention to my angry shout.

“Hey, you should really apologize,” Jungkook hollered at the man, standing up for me. Unfortunately, the man didn’t reflect his misbehavior even after Jungkook stepped in. He barely turned his head around to check what that was about, dismissing it a few seconds later.

“Let it go; he’s not worth it,” I wrapped my hand around Jungkook’s shoulder, stopping him from confronting the rude asshat. “Karma is gonna get him,” I added with a smirk upon my face as I imagined how much cash he had in his wallet – which, in fact, was at the bottom of my pocket right now.

It ought to teach him a lesson.

“It’s your unlucky day,” Jungkook admitted, feeling sorry for my misfortune.

“Well… it’s not that bad,” I assured Jungkook with a happy beam, realizing my mistake the second the words left my mouth. Fantastic, I was just enthusiastic about the cash I found lying all over the ground. However, now, Jungkook must’ve thought I was into him.

Dear Lord, save me from this misunderstanding.

Before Jungkook managed to question my ambiguous comment, Jimin and Hoseok shouted. Apparently, they found a restaurant with a large enough table to fit us all.

At last!

Once inside, we quickly sat down, ready to skim through the menus. Honestly, we were all hungry way past the I-need-my-food-tasty stage, so we decided to order two giant pizzas and six pints of Christmas Ale beer.

“I think we should play a game before our food arrives,” Jimin proposed as he looked at the people by the table, not appreciating the awkwardness. Within Jimin were two wolves – one was a social butterfly, and the other was a people pleaser. Sitting in an uncomfortable silence irked him immensely. “How about a little integration, anybody?”

“You have to excuse him,” Hoseok interjected, trying to calm the angry crowd of grownups. “Jimin’s going to be a counselor on a hockey camp during the winter break, and sometimes, he forgets he’s not talking with middle-school pupils.”

“You’re never too old for some good old bonding,” Jimin fought his case, really keen on getting to know us better. “Especially over some beer,” he added when the waitress walked up to our table with our beverages.

Though none of us wanted to participate in Jimin’s fun activities, we eventually gave in, realizing his persistence was even more energy-draining than the bonding games themselves.

The rules were simple, you had to name three finds you love and three things you hate. Jimin went first, and it was actually quite funny to see the contrast between him and Kibum, who was the second to speak up.

“I love Mexican food, horror movies, and money,” I confessed when it was my turn, having no regrets. After all, we would never meet again. “I hate banana milk, wireless earphones, and doing laundry,” I added, completing the horrid task, making everyone at the table grow silent. Cocking my brow upward, I asked, “what?”

“Nothing,” Hoseok replied, still trying to comprehend the situation. “It’s just unbelievable.”

With each syllable that rolled off Hoseok’s tongue, I knew less and less. What the hell was going on? Could somebody explain to me what the fuss was all about?

“Basically, Jungkook loves all the things you hate,” Jimin finally explained, making Kibum cackle in entertainment.

“Ooh-la-la, the plot thickens,” Kibum snickered, laughing loudly, kicking his head backward.

“Ignore him. He’s just being a drama queen for no reason,” I interjected, ignoring Kibum’s ridiculous reaction.

“Guys, look, the food is ready,” Yeri said in excitement upon seeing our waitress walking toward us with delicious pizza in her hands. “I am so hungry,” she added, rubbing her hands together, licking her lips with appetite.

Thankfully, the rest of the evening went smoothly. After the beer and the food, the conversation sailed without any disturbance, everybody chiming in once in a while. A friendly atmosphere surrounded us, but we all felt it was the first and final meeting. Our groups had completely different vibes, and though we had somewhat fun, there was no point in forcing this friendship any further.

In an amicable mood, we parted ways.

Having dropped Yeri at her dorm, Kibum and I took an Uber to our shared apartment.

“I am dying,” I complained, stretching my arms as soon as I walked through the threshold of our comfy place. Having hung the coat, I fished out the stolen wallet. “I deserved a long bath,” I added, plopping down onto the couch, looking through the content of my newest possession.

“You really have to stop doing that. You’re gonna get caught one time,” Kibum mentioned as he sat down beside me, tearing the wallet out of my hands, browsing through the loyalty cards, looking for a bargain. “When did you even steal it? I was by your side the whole time,” Kibum wondered as he found a coupon for a free coffee amongst the plastic cards.

“You know what they say,” I started, counting the cash in my hands – almost two hundred bucks, not bad. “The first million is the hardest and is meant to be stolen,” I finished my thought, putting the cash into my purse.

“First of all, nobody has ever said that,” Kibum argued, groaning. It wasn’t the first time we had this conversation; at this point, we had this pep talk rehearsed to perfection. “You’re pushing your luck here. One day you’ll pick the wrong pocket.”

“What do you want me to say? I can’t stop now,” sighing, I replied. Maybe in the future, once I land a stable job with an adequate wage, I’ll quit. In this economy, it may be quite challenging, but that’s the goal. Right now, I was as poor as a church mouse, barely getting by each month on my level of living.

“I’m gonna be so pissed if the police catch you,” Kibum complained, giving up on his daily lecture. Trying to convince me was a vicious circle. Kibum felt as if he was trapped in some lame remake of Groundhog Day, only failing at knocking some common sense into his friend’s stubborn head.

“Take it easy. They won’t,” I mused with a light-hearted smile. “If you’re forgotten, you’re like super old. You’ll get bald if you keep worrying so much.”

“That’s a low blow,” Kibum mentioned, frowning in annoyance. Ever since he reached the dreadful thirty mark, it was his biggest insecurity. “Alright then,” he carried on, ready to attack me with just as strong jab. “What about Jungkook?”

“What about him?”

“You’ve had a moment.”

“What moment?” I inquired, pretending to be way clueless than I really was. “If, by moment, you mean that he basically nailed me into the ice, then yes.”

“You should’ve given him your phone number,” Kibum commented casually, and I turned my head around, avoiding his gaze. “Oh my, you actually gave it, I knew it,” he realized, looking right through me. “Finally, you need some. Later on, maybe he’ll talk you out of your bad habits,” Kibum carried on, blabbering nonsense.

“Don’t you think you’re getting way ahead of yourself?” I questioned, folding my arms over my chest. “I guess Jungkook’s a good guy, but he ain’t gonna call me.”

“You never know,” Kibum reasoned, and I sighed, walking away to the bathroom to run myself a relaxing bath, which was all that I needed.

3 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

It was a terrible day.

First of all, I was still a bit sore after the ice rink accident. Then, I tried strolling along the bustling alleys, picking a few pockets. Unfortunately, people didn’t carry that much cash.

Having stolen three wallets, I only collected fifty bucks.

That was pathetic.

Sighing, I decided to call it a day.

Kibum would be so proud of me, I thought as I made my way to a random coffee shop, wanting to accidentally lose one of the wallets. That way, the rightful owner would have a chance of actually finding it if he decided to trace back his steps.

On my walk of shame back home, my phone randomly stopped playing music. Instantly, I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to fish it out of my pocket, knowing there was an incoming call waiting to be answered.

Normally, I’d either ignore it because I knew it was a spam call or just ignore it because I preferred texts to calls. Whoever opted to dial must’ve been devil’s spawn. No doubt.

Totally suing this guy.

Hmm… what does he want? I wondered as my thumb hovered over the answer icon on the screen. I wasn’t serious about suing him; it was just me teasing the poor guy. I didn’t actually mean it, and I thought it was obvious.

Before I managed to make up my mind about picking up the phone, Jungkook must’ve given up and hung up. Unfortunately, right when I was about to put it back in my pocket, I received another incoming call.

Totally suing this guy.

“Hello?” I asked, picking up the phone. Hopefully, he would check up on me and end the conversation. It was weird and uncomfortable, so it better be the last time.

“Hi, it’s Jungkook,” he said, sounding somewhat shy and timid. “From the ice rink, how are you feeling?” Jungkook inquired, and I sighed, getting mentally prepared for my reply.

“I’m better,” I answered shortly, not giving him any details on my condition. It was just a few bruises; I wasn’t dying. “Your knee left a bruise, but in a few days, I’m gonna feel all good,” I added, remembering the large mark on my thigh. It looked like a big ass hickey, but that’s the comment I was about to keep to myself.

“I’m really, really sorry,” he spoke through a tumult on his side of the call. He must’ve been in a crowded place, like a locker room packed with fellow hockey players or something. A second later, I heard a noise of shutting the doors close, assuming Jungkook must’ve left the room, wanting to continue this talk without any further disturbance.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” I reassured that he cared so him. It was adorable much about my condition, but it was starting to feel a little bit excessive. A regular amount of repentance would be understandable, but he was quite over the top.

“Actually, it’s not why I’m calling,” Jungkook admitted, taking me aback. Why else would he call then? “It was just an excuse,” he added, and I genuinely started to wonder what was going on inside his head. He didn’t want to ask me out, did he?

Nah, it didn’t make any sense.

Get a grip, woman.

“Oh, why are you calling me then?” I challenged him as I couldn’t wait any longer for the big reveal. “What is so important that couldn’t be a simple text?”

“Well…,” Jungkook started, and I smiled, hearing in his tone that he was beaming. “To be completely honest, I really suck at texting. One time, I texted back my friend after a few months, so yeah, I’d rather call,” he explained, and though that’s not my preferred way of communicating, I found it adorable.

“Nobody’s perfect.”

“So, I was wondering if you’d like to hang out,” Jungkook asked, and I became speechless.

“Really? Why?” I questioned as I couldn’t find any reason why Jungkook would like to meet up with me. Yesterday, I had been grumpy as fuck – it was hard to believe he wanted to see my face ever again.

“What do you mean why?”

“I wasn’t particularly nice to you yesterday,” I admitted, looking down at my feet.

“You were just angry, it happens,” Jungkook claimed, once again surprising me – he wasn’t just good-looking. Besides his gorgeous looks, he, most importantly, was a kind, soft-spoken person with a heart of gold.

“Yeah, but still, I was an asshole.”

“No, it must’ve been that spur-of-the-moment kind of attitude,” Jungkook brushed it off without my thought, and I sighed in relief. Thankfully, he didn’t think I was a complete bitch. “I would be pissed too if someone tackled me down at a public ice rink.”

“Could we please stop talk about it?” I proposed, willing to put it all behind us.

“Sorry,” Jungkook apologized sheepishly, and I giggled, shaking my head, unable to process how adorable he was. “So, back to the topic, I was wondering if you’d like to come to that charity hockey game tomorrow,” he trailed off, a little bit insecure about my answer. “And after that, we could grab some coffee. I mean, if you don’t have any plans, I’d really like to meet up,” Jungkook added, sounding like a ball of a blabbering mess.

“Hmm… tomorrow, I am busy in the morning and early afternoon. What time does the game begin?” I questioned, buying myself more time to think over Jungkook’s proposition. He was a good guy, and I’d love to hang out, but I still had doubts.

“At three o’clock!” Jungkook exclaimed in excitement, probably hoping I was available to attend this charity event. “We’re raising money for a winter camp for kids from St. Paul’s orphanage. That’s the one Jimin’s gonna volunteer at.”

Now, there was no way I could say no.

“I should be free by then,” I answered, hoping I wouldn’t regret my decision later on.

“Fantastic, see you tomorrow,” Jungkook exclaimed happily, and I giggled at his enthusiasm.

“Ayo, Jeon, what are you giggling at?” Someone in the background hollered, teasing Jungkook. Though I thought it was cute and playful, Jungkook must’ve felt so embarrassed that he hung up before I managed to say my farewell.

2 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

According to Jungkook’s instructions, the charity game out to start around 3 in the afternoon. A bit too early if you ask me, but who am I to judge the authorities who organized it? Nonetheless, I put on a nice outfit (effortless though chic) and made my way to the university’s stadium, ready to sit through the entirety of the game, already suspecting it wouldn’t appeal to my preferences. It was far too brutal to be enjoyable.

I had no interest in hockey, nor even knew the basics; however, Jungkook wanted me out of all people to support him. Normally, I’d skip, but there was just something about him that made it really difficult to say no to him. There I was – on university grounds during the holiday break, heading to the sports department where I had never stepped my foot willingly.

It was a charity event our university annually hosted. To be completely honest, it was the first time I heard of it. Moreover, there was a high chance I wasn’t the only one. Right in front of the entrance, there was no queue – I was the only one, and it was suspicious as fuck.

Unless I had first-hand info about the beginning of the game, I would just turn around and leave. However, Jungkook had specifically said 3 p.m., so I walked up to the entrance, seeing a man distributing tickets. He must’ve been one of the volunteering students. Admirable.

With a deep sigh, I pushed the doors open and entered the building. “One ticket, please,” I spoke, pulling out my wallet to pay for the entry fee. It was all for charity, so I gladly paid up the round sum. These kids really deserved a treat, and I’d love to contribute.

“You’re the first one to arrive; you must be a hardcore fan of our hockey team,” the friendly man said, and I just giggled at this obvious misconception.

Me? A fan? A hardcore one at that? Wow.

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m here to support a friend,” I answered, denying the accusations with a casual response. “Where should I go?”

“Right this way, the first doors on the left,” the man answered with a happy beam. “Seats are not assigned, so be free to sit anywhere you like,” he added, and I bowed, thanking him for the directions. Though I was near graduation, I had no idea how to move around the building.

Having pushed the heavy doors open, I made my way to the bleachers.

A few players were skating across the ice rink, while the area for spectators was empty. As if that wasn’t awkward enough, all the players looked at me, whistling like a bunch of starved wolves. What the hell was that all about?

Ooh! Ooh!

“Wow, Jungkook, this girl really came,” one of the boys, probably Hoseok, shouted loud enough for me to hear. What? Did Jungkook talk about me with his teammates? What for? Or did they listen to us chat on the phone the other day? Even so, what’s with the reaction?

At first, I wanted to turn around and run away. I didn’t like the way they looked at me. It resembled a combination of concern for their younger teammate and playful support for whatever was about to stem between us. Ridiculous!

Then, I considered sitting in the last row, ignoring their curious glances. I’d probably pull a book out of my bag and devote myself to the plot for the duration of the game.

Unfortunately, none of my ideas seemed to be possible – especially not when one of the players with number 1 written on the sports uniform skated toward the railing. It must’ve been Jungkook. I mean… who else would that be?

Once he took off his helmet, I realized that my suspicion was right. It was indeed Jungkook with his messy, sweaty hair and a goofy smile upon his face. He was waving at me, enticing me closer to the ice rink.

“You really came,” Jungkook whispered when I walked up to him. “I really doubted you did,” he added, and I rolled my eyes at him.

“If I didn’t, you would keep calling me,” I answered playfully, still unable to comprehend how, on earth, he preferred calling to texting. It was ridiculous; he couldn’t be that bad at replying as he had claimed. “And also, why am I here this soon? Where is everybody? Care to explain?” I asked, my tone slightly laced with anger.

“Did I really say 3 o’clock?” Jungkook inquired innocently, staring at the big clock on the scoreboard. “My bad, I fucked it up, sorry,” Jungkook apologized, but I suspected his words weren’t entirely genuine. Apparently, he wanted me to come this soon, and I had to figure out why.

“Also, care to explain why your teammates stare at me like that,” I questioned, cocking my eyebrow, looking past Jungkook’s shoulder. The hockey team really seemed to be invested in what was going on between Jungkook and me, and I didn’t like the way they were gawking at me as if I had two heads growing out on my shoulders.

“Oh, I might’ve got caught talking to you yesterday,” he mentioned as if I didn’t already suspect that. “Apparently, I looked like an embodiment of teenage crush, and they keep teasing me about it. I am sorry if they creep you out,” Jungkook explained, and I beamed, thinking it was actually pretty cute.

“They’re your friends; that’s what friends do.”

“Hey, Jeon, quit flirting and get your ass on the rink. We’ve all gotta warm-up,” the coach hollered, urging Jungkook to return to his teammates. Though it was just an out of the season game, their coach didn’t want to lose anyway.

“Good luck, Jeon,” I whispered, shooing him away from me, really trying to give him a chance for a proper warm-up before the match. “Don’t let anyone tackle you down. It’s not that pleasant,” I added with an encouraging smile.

“I got it,” Jungkook spoke, sending me a cute wink.

Just as I asked him to, Jungkook skated away, only to come back around ten seconds later.

“By the way, you’ve got any plans after the game?” Jungkook asked, waiting for my answer with utter impatience. “I thought maybe we could grab something to eat.”

“Well… that depends,” I replied, and Jungkook cocked up his eyebrow.

“Depends on what?”

“Ask me again after you win the game,” I teased, giving him some extra motivation to try his best on the rink. “Go, they’re waiting.”

And with that, Jungkook finally got his head in the game.

The coach shouts tips and occasionally scolds players that aren’t on their best performance. In the meantime, people fill up the seats on the bleachers, excited to see the match and open their wallets for the laudable cause.

By the time the match finally begins, I am bored out of my mind. I gave hockey a fair shot, but it didn’t raise my interest in the tiniest bit. It just wasn’t my thing.

Thankfully, I had a newly purchased book in my bag to pass the time. It was just a Christmas themed erotica with a half-naked Santa with a six-pack on the cover. It wasn’t anything promising, but the holidays were around the corner, so maybe it’d put me in the right mood.

Though I didn’t have high hopes for the novel, it felt disappointing. The plot was cliché, and the pace was too rushed, but nonetheless, I’d still choose it over a hockey game. Contact sports weren’t really my thing, especially when it was giving me PTSD.

From time to time, my eyes would locate Jungkook on the rink. He was really out there, showing off his talents, making people gawk in admiration. He was one of the best players in his team, scoring goal after goal. Or whatever they score in hockey.

It was an even match, but ultimately, our team won by two points.

“On children’s behalf, I’d like to thank everybody for coming,” a woman in smart clothing spoke through the microphone. It must’ve been the orphanage director showing her gratitude for all the money they had managed through the ticket sale. “My heart really melts when I see how many people decided to help our children, especially in this difficult time of the year,” she recited, putting the microphone away from her mouth before a grateful tear rolled down her cheek. “Thank you so much!”

Shortly after, she handed the microphone to Jungkook’s coach.

“Hi, everybody, I’m coach Min,” he introduced himself, and the spectators clapped their hands in gratitude for leading the team towards victory. “I’d like to thank everybody for donating the money. I hope the kids will enjoy their winter break,” he added, looking at the crowd, proud of so many people gathered to support the cause. “However, if you’d like to contribute, even more, my team will wait outside with boxes. With this extra money, we would like to buy Christmas gifts for these amazing kids. I wish you all – Merry Christmas.”

Another round of applause echoed among the walls before people slowly started to head towards the exit. Taking my time, I followed the crowd, looking for Jungkook. It was difficult; people were feeling generous today.

“Over here,” I heard somebody call my name, so I turned around, recognized Jimin. He was standing a few meters away with a heavy box stuffed with cash. “Would you like to make some children happy?” Jimin asked, placing the box right under my nose, wanting me to contribute some more. “What do you say?”

Although I had already paid the entry fee, I still wanted to give more. All the goodness I had witnessed at the stadium pulled my heartstrings; it was impossible to say no now. Once I started, I just couldn’t stop.

With a genuine smile, I pulled out my wallet. I had plenty of cash in it. Everything I had stolen during this week. It was about four hundred bucks. Without a slimmer of doubt, the team would spend it wisely. Better than I ever could.

“Are you sure? It’s a lot of money,” Jimin asked, wondering if I was in the right state of mind donating so much.

“Yes, I am sure,” I confirmed, giving all of the money away. The feeling was deliberating, and it was really nice. “Oh my God, Jimin! What are you doing?” I asked in panic when Jimin put the box on the ground and picked me up, spinning around.

“Ahem,” someone cleared their throat before continuing, “am I interrupting something?” A familiar voice asked, making Jimin drop me down. Thankfully, I didn’t stumble. Somehow I found my balance before I hit my face against the pavement.

“Oh, Jungkook,” Jimin whispered, smiling awkwardly, almost as if we were caught cheating. “It’s not what it looks like,” he started, and I rolled my eyes. Literally, it was the worst phrasing he could choose, especially given the reputation this line holds. “I was just showing my gratitude after her generous donation.”

“Let’s just go,” I interjected before Jimin managed to embarrass me even more. With a smile upon my face, I grabbed Jungkook’s box and handed it over to Jimin. “Take care of that, okay?” I said, grabbing Jungkook’s hand, pulling him away from the campus ground.

Since it was quite chilly outside, Jungkook and I decided to grab drinks at the campus café. Having taken seats by the window in the back, we looked through menus to choose something delicious for our little informal date.

“Order anything you like; it’s my treat,” Jungkook mentioned before he proceeded to look through the menu. “You were my lucky charm today.”

“Well… of course, it’s your treat. I gave all my money away to charity,” I spoke, looking through the tea section for something I haven’t had before. “I’d like vanilla cinnamon tea,” I read out loud the position off the menu that really caught my attention.

“On it,” he added before he walked up to the counter to order. In a minute, he was back at the table, sitting comfortably at the other side of the table. “So… you and Jimin, huh?”

“Speaking of which, what kind of jealousy scene was that?” I inquired, teasing him for completely misunderstanding this situation.

“Sorry for that,” Jungkook apologized sheepishly, looking away. “It’s just it was so unexpected. I mean… you don’t know Jimin that well, and acting like that was quite strange,” Jungkook explained, and I nodded, trying to understand his reaction.

“Jimin’s cute. Is he single?” I asked, and Jungkook frowned upon my question, visibly upset with my wording. “What I meant is that I have a friend. I have a feeling they would click, you know,” I clarified, giggling when I saw relief wash through Jungkook.

“In that case, he’s very single,” Jungkook gladly answered, smiling brightly like an idiot. “After the last girl he was seeing dumped him a few months ago, he didn’t date. Maybe it’s about time he gets back to it,” he added, and I nodded, scribbling down my friend’s number on a piece of paper, sliding it over to Jungkook, believing he would pass it to Jimin.

“So… what are your plans for Christmas Eve?” I asked when the barista brought our order to the table. Apparently, Jungkook is quite a sweet-tooth. Beside my tea, he ordered a large cup of hot cocoa with roasted marshmallows on top along with four beautifully decorated cupcakes. I got cavities just by looking at it.

“I’m going Christmas shopping,” Jungkook answered, licking off some whipped cream off the pink cupcake. “I gotta buy gifts for the kids,” he added, and I smiled at the boy in front of me. Although I knew him only for two days, he kept surprising me.

In a good way, of course.

“Do you have any idea what I can get them?” Jungkook inquired, stuffing his mouth with the cupcake, enjoying his sweet treat. “There’s like thirty-five of them. I am clueless.”

“I don’t know… board games? Art supplies? Lego blocks? I’m sure you’ll figure this out,” I replied, suspecting I wasn’t much of a help.

“You could always come and join me,” Jungkook proposed, reaching for another cupcake. “I could use some help,” he added, pushing the tray with sugary treats towards me.

“I’d love to, but I will be at work, sorry,” I answered truthfully, now kind of regretting replying to that ad on Craigslist. “I’m babysitting tomorrow. Parents of three go on some business trip, and I have to watch them until their grandparents take over,” I explained, and Jungkook nodded, sipping his hot cocoa.

“Any plans after that?”

“I’ll just come back home and watch some Christmas movies on Netflix. This year, I don’t have time to go to my hometown. I gotta go to work as soon as Christmas is over,” I explained with a deep sigh. Although I wasn’t exceptionally family-oriented, it still felt a little bit odd to spend Christmas alone. “What about you?”

“My parents finally saved up enough money for the second honeymoon they always wanted to go, so there’s no real celebration this year,” Jungkook mentioned, showing real support for his parents. If that’s what they really wanted, he didn’t want to be a burden. “I’m really happy for them. Raising me and my brother wasn’t easy, so that’s the least we can do.”

“That’s really sweet of you,” I commented, wondering about Jungkook, his family, and their customs. “We could hang out tomorrow evening if you want to,” I proposed, and Jungkook beamed in utter joy, almost as if he waited for my offer.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Jungkook admitted, grinning like a child. “Come on, have some cupcake. I bought them for us.”

“I’m fine with my tea,” I replied, raising the cup to my mouth, taking a tiny sip. “I’m full just by looking at you eat,” I added, encouraging Jungkook to devour the rest of the goodies.

As if I didn’t know already, Jungkook proved to me one more time how charming he was. Though we had different opinions on some topics, we also had a lot in common.

This date was really informative. For example, I had no idea that Jungkook only plays in the hockey team for the scholarship. His true passion is photography and directing, and it’s actually his major. Moreover, he shared how much he likes to sings in the shower, for which he often gets teased by fellow teammates.

Maybe our first meeting was a tragedy, but the more time I spent with him, I began to realize that it was actually worth it to take this fall.

CHRISTMAS EVE

“My parents should arrive around seven,” the mother of three boys announced when she finally found a second to talk to me. “Jin is ten, Namjoon is eight, and Taehyung is five,” she added when the boys ran across the corridor, chasing one another.

“They’re adorable,” I commented, though I didn’t really mean it. I had no idea how the kids would behave when their parents would walk out the door.

“My sweet little angels,” she said with a deep sigh, feeling a bit sad that she had to leave her children alone on Christmas day. Unfortunately, whatever they had to tend to at work was way more important than spending holidays with their children. “How much money do I owe you?” She asked, being unaware of the amount her husband put on the advertisement.

“Five hundred,” I answered, and she nodded her head, giving me the correct amount.

Thankfully, the kids weren’t all that troublesome.

After their parents left for the airport, the children were a loud mess playing some console games. As long as they didn’t want me to participate in their fun activities, I didn’t mind the noise. I’d just simply wait for the grandparents to arrive.

Just two more hours; I can handle that.

“Can I have some candy?” Taehyung asked cutely, holding a bag of jelly beans in his hands. Usually, I’d say no. Kids tend to be hyperactive on the sugar rush. I didn’t want to have to deal with it, but then, I was quite impressed that he even bothered to ask for permission.

“Of course, sweetie, it’s Christmas,” I replied, tearing the packaging for him.

After the boys got bored, they wanted to play some board games with me. I wasn’t particularly interested in interacting with them but ultimately decided to join in. It’s been a while since I destroyed someone at Monopoly, so I might as well do it now.

Just one more hour; it’s almost over.

The boys had a particularly short attention span. The average game of Monopoly should take at least two hours – Jin, Namjoon, and Taehyung returned to their previous shenanigans, running around and screaming at one another maybe twenty minutes into the game.

Just when I was about to yell at them to keep quiet, I heard my phone ring. Under these circumstances, it was a blessing. At this point, I’d diligently answer all the questions the spam caller wanted to ask me. I was desperate for some interaction with an adult.

Having locked myself inside the bathroom, I answered the call, enjoying a little bit of peace and quiet. “Hello?” I asked, waiting for Jungkook to brighten my day.

“Hi, there,” he spoke cheerfully, “all gifts are bought and wrapped,” he added, proud of his today’s achievements. “What time do you finish up?”

“In an hour or maybe earlier,” I answered, looking at the wristwatch.

“Do you want me to pick you up? We could take a walk, and then just go with the flow,” Jungkook proposed, and I immediately said yes as I couldn’t wait for him to show up and rescue me from these children.

“I’d actually love that. I’ll text you the address,” I spoke, biting my bottom lip in excitement. One more hour and I’d walk away with five hundred bucks in my wallet.

When the clock struck seven o’clock, the grandparents were nowhere to be seen. They were running late, and I was growing impatient. Jungkook would be here any minute, and I wanted to leave. I tried calling their parents but to no avail. They must’ve already boarded the plane.

This situation was helpless – they were just little boys, I couldn’t leave them alone.

Thirty minutes later, I heard the bell. In a hurry, I opened the doors, wishing to see the grandparents on the other side. Unfortunately, much to my dismay, it was just Jungkook.

“Shall we go now?” Jungkook asked, eyeing me from head to toe, biting his lip. “Wow, you look amazing,” he added, and I stared down at my outfit consisting of a cute tight purple turtleneck, a short black skirt, and a pair of warm tights.

“I can’t go yet. Their grandparents aren’t here, and I don’t have a way of calling them,” I explained, and Jungkook sighed, taking off his shoes, willing to help me babysit.

“What is he doing here,” Jin asked, as he folded his arms around his chest, judging me for inviting someone to their household.

“He’s my friend who was supposed to pick me up after I’m done here, and since your grandparents are getting late, he’s staying, so be nice to him.”

“Whatever,” he grumped before running to the living room, joining his brothers on the couch.

We tried watching a movie. However, once again, the boys couldn't focus enough to last to the end of it. Then, I realized I royally fucked up by giving them sugar earlier. They wanted to play hide and seek, and I agreed with a tired sigh.

Unwillingly, I turned around to face the wall. I closed my eyes and began counting, giving them more than enough time to find the perfect hiding spot.

“Three, two, one,” I hollered, making sure they heard me.

The apartment was suspiciously silent and pretty dark. I could definitely feel that weird vibe often present in horror movies. First of all, I checked all the hiding spots in the living room. Then, when I was about to enter the corridor, I felt a presence behind me. Before I managed to react, a hand snaked around my body, covering my mouth, muffling my unexpected screams.

In a second, the person turned me around. I should’ve figured it out it was Jungkook. With a goofy smile, he mentioned me to remain quiet.

“What are you doing? This is not how you play this game,” I whispered, giving him a lecture, but Jungkook only laughed at my reaction.

“Look, they’re finally quiet. You should take your time finding the kids,” Jungkook suggested, and I hummed in agreement. He was right – I should cherish the silence. He was a genius. “Shh…,” he added, pressing his forefinger against his perfect lips.

Maybe the atmosphere wasn’t perfect, but I just couldn’t help myself. We were standing there in the dark, completely still. I couldn’t fight this temptation.

Acting out of my urge, I took a step forward and gave him a chaste kiss. It was a delicate brush of my lips against his, but it was just perfect. And apparently, I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed this innocent form of affection.

The moment I pulled away, Jungkook grinned, placing his hands on my hips. Staring down at me, he yanked me against his firm body, leaning forward for another kiss. Tenderly, his mouth moved, feeling my lips.

Within seconds, the kiss became even more passionate. Smiling, Jungkook began to nibble on the sensitive skin of my lips, and I hummed in pleasure. With my arms wrapped around his neck, I opened my mouth slightly, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

“Fuck,” Jungkook loudly cursed as he bit my bottom lip, making me shriek in pain. At first, I thought he was just getting turned on, but then I realized what happened. It was Taehyung. He was standing right beside Jungkook, smiling as if he did something inappropriate. “He bit me!” Jungkook exclaimed, massaging his thigh, trying to ease the pain.

“He bit you?” I asked, being confused as ever. “Is that true, Taehyung?” I questioned the boy, but instead of answering me, he ran away to another room, chuckling like a maniac. Now, that was odd. “What is going on?”

The grandparents were supposed to arrive over an hour ago; I was losing my patience here.

“This kid bit me,” Jungkook carried on, unable to comprehend this entire situation. Well… he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t wrap his head around this. What the fuck was wrong with them? “What is this?” Jungkook asked as he felt something on this thigh. “Ew, it’s his tooth!”

That was enough.

It was about time I set up some rules.

“Let’s find them, meet me in the living room in five minutes,” I ordered before we split up to search more ground. The boys were getting out of hand, and they had to be stopped. For the love of God, Taehyung bit Jungkook!

“Have you found them?” Jungkook hollered, and I shook my head.

They vanished.

“I know it’s very irresponsible, but how about ditching this place?” I offered, even though I already knew the answer. They were just kids; we couldn’t just walk out, leaving them alone.

“It’s tempting, but we shouldn’t do that,” Jungkook spoke, regretting making the adult decision. “Isn’t that Namjoon?” He asked, and I turned to look where he was pointing at.

“Wait there, young man!” I yelled, storming out of the room, following Namjoon. The second I turned to the left, Namjoon was nowhere to be seen. It was weird; he must’ve run into one of the rooms. Unfortunately, before I managed to make up my mind, which room I should check first, someone pushed me onto the ground. It made me fall on my knees, painfully bruising them. “What the fuck?” I looked behind my shoulder, seeing Jin bolt off to the living room.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked in concern as he approached me, helping me stand up. “What is wrong with them?”

“I have no idea. The boys seemed fine earlier,” I spoke, seeing Taehyung run towards us. In a matter of seconds, he jumped at Jungkook, wrapping his hands around his neck, dangling off his back. “Hold still,” I ordered, but Jungkook was in panic, afraid of earning another wound.

I wanted to peel the kid off Jungkook’s back, but there was something wrong with Taehyung. Though he was a good boy, right now, there was something inhuman about him. He behaved like a wild animal with rabies, and it crept me out as fuck.

Jungkook smashed his back against the wall, hoping Taehyung would loosen the grip around his neck. At this moment, Jungkook felt as if the little boy was strangling him.

Unfortunately, the impact didn’t do much help.

Then I saw it. There must’ve been something really wrong with them. Taehyung’s eyes were all black with a few black veins around them, making him look extra creepy.

“Fuck this shit, let’s go,” I yanked Jungkook’s arm, wanting to get the hell away from this apartment. There was something wrong with them, and it wasn’t a part of my job to find out what. I was about to babysit them until seven o’clock and leave.

It wasn’t a part of the deal.

“We can’t leave,” Jungkook argued, but I didn’t want to listen.

“We’ll call the police,” I spoke, desperately trying to convince Jungkook to escape this trap. “They’ll send someone here to check up on them,” I added, running to the living room to get my bag. “Let’s go before I drag you out of here.” Maybe my words sounded like a threat, but it successfully made Jungkook move.

“It’s locked,” Jungkook said when he tried to pull the doors open. Though I didn’t lock it after Jungkook’s entrance, the doors wouldn’t budge now. “Do you have a key?”

Trapped inside the apartment, we looked at each other. None of us knew what to do next.

Then, the lights went out.

As if we weren’t already crept out.

“What is the plan?” Jungkook inquired, searching for my hand to hold onto something.

“Stay calm,” I answered, not realizing that quoting the office wasn’t the best idea at the moment. “You try everything to open the doors. Kungfu the shit out of them if you have to,” I ordered, and Jungkook hummed in understanding. “I’ll distract the kids.”

It wasn’t the wisest decision to make, but somebody had to do it. I wasn’t exceptionally proud of myself, but what could a bunch of weird kids do to me?

“Be careful,” Jungkook whispered before I turned on the torch on my phone, looking for the kids around the apartment.

They had to be hiding in one of the rooms. Having taken a confident sigh, I pushed one of the doors open, stepping into Namjoon’s bedroom. The space was spotless, and it was hard to believe it was one of the children’s rooms.

“Game over, Namjoon,” I spoke, urging him to show himself. “You won,” I added, as I kneeled on the carpet to check if he was hiding under the bed. He wasn’t there. “It’s not funny,” I exclaimed, marching towards the closet, anxious about opening it.

It had to be done, though.

Abruptly, I opened the closet, hoping I’d be the first to react if it was indeed Namjoon’s hiding spot. Unfortunately, I wasn’t. Before I managed to prepare myself, Namjoon pushed me, making me painfully fall on my back.

“You little fucker,” I yelled, groaning in pain, earning probably another big ass bruise. “You’re gonna regret that,” I added, unable to control my anger any longer. I was getting easy on them, but it was enough. Now, I’d punch them in the face if I had to.

Namjoon was staring down at me with these creepy black eyes of a demon. His eyes studied my movement, almost as if he was a predator, waiting for the best moment to strike its prey. Then he screeched, jumping right at me in an attempt to bite me.

This time around, however, my reflexes were quicker. Before Namjoon landed on top of me, I rolled to the side, kicking him in his stomach, sending him flying across the room. I couldn’t believe I just did that, but when Namjoon stood up as if nothing happened, I understood I had to go all the way if I wanted to make it out alive.

Quickly, I jumped to my feet, determined to Bruce Lee kick the devil’s spawn into another dimension with my close-to-none self-defense skills. Women in stress could pick up cars, and I had to beat up an eight-year-old.

I could handle it.

Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Bouncing on my legs like on the ready mode in a fighting game, I stared at my opponent. Namjoon was the first to attack, and I just jumped at the side, not wanting to get bitten. Unfortunately, Namjoon still managed to scratch my arm, drawing blood.

“You’re dead,” I threatened when I saw that he tore the sleeve of my favorite turtleneck. With anger in my eyes, I approached him, throwing punches left and right. My fists collided against Namjoon’s jaw, but no matter how much force I used, it didn’t seem to have any impact on him. He didn’t feel any pain, and it pissed me off.

With a hiss, Namjoon jumped at me, wrapping his hands and arms around my torso. His mouth was dangerously close to my throat, so in a state of complete panic, I started to spin around, trying to shake him off of me.

Now, Namjoon’s room was a complete mess – especially when I walked into a mirror, smashing it into a thousand pieces. Namjoon and I were rolling in the broken glass, earning plenty of tiny cuts across our bodies.

“That’s enough,” I warned him as I spat blood on the carpet. “Say hello to Satan for me, will you?” I added before I pushed him out of the window without any regrets. Namjoon kept screaming, but when his tiny body smashed against the pavement, the peculiar screeching finally stopped. “Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker,” I whispered, unable to control myself.

I just killed a kid, and the first thing that came to my mind was quoting Die Hard.

It wasn’t the time for celebration. There were still two children running around the apartment.

Looking around Namjoon’s room, I found a baseball bat. That’ll do, I thought to myself as I stared at my new-found weapon.

“Jungkook!” I shouted.

Once I was in the corridor, I saw the doors. They were open, but Jungkook was out of sight. Did he seriously ditch me here alone? No, it wasn’t possible. Jungkook would never do that.

The boys must’ve done something to him.

One by one, I checked all the rooms, but I found nothing. It almost felt as if I was alone in this creepy apartment.

“Cut the crap, boys,” I hollered, ready to smack anybody in the face with my baseball bat. I was done playing games. I just wanted to go home and wrap myself in blankets in front of a television. “Come out! I don’t have the whole day,” I added, looking around.

I was on high alert. Adrenaline and other hormones were running through my veins, enhancing my senses. Then I heard it – the sound was coming from the staircase. Quickly, I ran out of the apartment, checking the reason behind this commotion.

It was a yellow ball. Somebody must’ve thrown it. Leaning over the railing, I looked up, trying to spot the villain behind this prank. Then I heard giggles. It must’ve been Taehyung.

“Get down here, right now,” I ordered, but the boy didn’t listen. “You’re going to be so dead when I get up there,” I warned, skipping two steps at a time, climbing the stairs.

On the top of the stairs, Taehyung was sitting comfortably, playing with a yo-yo. His face was stretched into a creepy smile, and in all honesty, it gave me chills.

“Get down here,” I repeated myself, but Taehyung didn’t even budge. “Where is Jungkook? What did you do to him?” I asked and received no answer.

Angrily, I walked upstairs, swinging my baseball bat around. Taehyung tried to mess with me with his yo-yo, but I managed to catch the toy and pull it out of his hands.

Like a maniac, I swung the bat, repeatedly hitting Taehyung’s head until it turned into a pulp. Wiping the blood off my face with the back of my hand, I turned around, studying the area. There was one more child out there, and I couldn’t lose my focus just yet.

“Where are you, Jin?” I shouted, waiting for a sign from the boy.

“Here,” Jin whispered, as he emerged from the shadows, pushing me off the stairs.

It was a painful fall, but thankfully, I didn’t break my neck. I felt a pulsating sensation in my left ankle, but besides that, I was fine.

Groaning in pain, I watched Jin slowly descend the stairs. His weird-ass demon eyes were drilling holes in my face, his lips turning into a devilish sneer. Step by step, he made his way downstairs, enjoying the way I tried to crawl away from him. The anticipation was draining me of energy; he was going to murder me, and I could just watch him do it.

“Help!” I shouted though I doubted anyone could hear me. “Somebody call the police!” I carried on but to no avail.

Jin was maybe thirty centimeters away from me, savoring my misery. Slowly, he tilted his head to the side, showing me his teeth, ready to tear me apart.

I had maybe a minute of life left, and I was going to spend it looking into my killer’s eyes.

That was sick.

When Jin was about to jump at me, I heard a noise coming from the apartment.

The scene unfolded in front of my eyes so soon, I couldn’t properly react to it. Right before Jin took a final leap towards me, Jungkook emerged out of the apartment with a fireplace poker, piercing it through Jin’s neck.

Jin’s blood, like a fountain, squirted on me. With my eyes closed, I waited for this moment to end. A few seconds later, I could hear Jin’s dead body collapse to the side.

“Are you okay?” I asked Jungkook, who dropped onto the floor beside me in shock.

“I just killed a kid,” Jungkook whispered, still unable to process what just happened. “When you walked away to look for the kids, I heard a noise in the kitchen. It was Jin, and when I entered, he began throwing shit at me. That motherfucker cut my face,” he added, showing me his fresh wound on his beautiful cheek. “Then, he stabbed my side with the knife and locked me in the closet,” he added, squeezing his side, trying to numb the pain.

“Let’s get the hell away from here,” I spoke, trying to stand up. It was difficult with all my wounds, but I couldn’t stand being inside this building.

CHRISTMAS DAY

We just killed three children.

At first, we had no clue what to do next, but then, I listened to my voice of reason – Jungkook. No matter how bad it looked, we had to go to the police.

Hand in hand, we slowly walked to the nearest police station. People were turning their heads when we were passing by them. I couldn’t blame them. I looked like Carrie with better clothing, while Jungkook seemed to have survived a zombie apocalypse.

When we entered the police station, everybody stared at us. Wobbling, we approached the front desk. “We killed three children,” I admitted, realizing how bad it sounded without the context.

The policeman was shocked. He didn’t witness this kind of thing regularly.

A few minutes later, we were escorted to a questioning room, where we could describe everything in great detail. Unfortunately, they didn’t seem to buy our story, thinking we were trying to pull some kind of a prank.

Taking all precautions, they called in an ambulance. We were seriously injured, and we needed some medical care. Though the doctor did a great job, I’d kill to get some better painkillers.

Once our wounds were dressed, the police locked us in custody. We had to wait until a pair of policemen checked the apartment and secure the evidence.

“Merry Christmas, Jungkook,” I whispered as I looked at my wristwatch, realizing it was already past one o’clock. “I know we had different plans, but out of all people, I am glad I was stuck there with you. You saved my life,” I carried on, looking at Jungkook fondly.

“We killed three children,” he replied, still shaken after what had happened. Perhaps, he didn’t need me now, but I really wanted to hug him and tell him that everything’s gonna be alright. Too bad that we were locked in two different cells.

“In self-defense,” I added since Jungkook often seemed to forget that part.

After ten minutes of painful silence, one of the guards walked up to the custody, unlocking our cells. What else did they want to know? We already said everything we knew.

“You’re free to go,” the guard announced, surprising us immensely. “It was an elaborate prank, but don’t ever do that again, or else, we’re going to seriously put you in jail,” he warned, urging us to leave.

“I don’t understand,” I wondered out loud, unable to process what was going on. “I thought you sent your men to check out the crime scene.”

“We did, and the apartment you wanted us to check out was empty. We talked with the landlord, and he said this flat has been vacant for the last year,” the guard explained, making me and Jungkook gasp in shock.

What the fuck was going on?

In complete silence, with our heads hanging low, we exited the police station.

“What now?”

“Let’s just go home and watch Die Hard,” Jungkook whispered, still trying to wrap his head around what had happened inside the apartment. We almost died in there. However, when the police checked it, it was like we had never been there.

My apartment was closer, so we both headed there. Our moves were robotic, our heads were empty. At this point, we just wanted to sit down and keep our minds busy, so we wouldn’t try to analyze what happened back there.

It wasn’t a figment of our imagination. Our wounds were concrete evidence that we were telling the truth. Unfortunately, the police didn’t want to believe us. However, as the saying goes – no body, no crime.

In light of the law, we were innocent.

As soon as we entered my apartment, we sat down on the floor, resting our back against the sofa. Mindlessly, I grabbed the remote and turned Die Hard on Netflix.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I whispered as I interlaced my fingers with Jungkook’s, resting my head on his shoulder. “Or we can just pretend it never happened. Let’s just say we watched a really weird movie or went to a hardcore escape room,” I added, studying Jungkook’s arm tattoos, getting lost in his skin art.

“I’ve known you a few days,” Jungkook started, staring into my eyes. “But I’ve experienced more stress than in my entire life altogether,” he added with a sigh, placing a delicate peck against my neck.

“Actually, my life is pretty boring,” I admitted, though I knew where Jungkook’s words were coming from. I wouldn’t believe myself, either. “It took a 180 on that ice rink,” I reasoned, trying to find a connection.

“You’re beautiful,” Jungkook confessed genuinely, staring at my face with his big sparkly eyes. He was bullshitting me, but I didn’t have enough energy to argue with him. How could I be beautiful? My hair was all sticky due to all the blood which the doctor hadn’t washed off. My skin was covered with cuts and bruises. Even my clothes were ripped. I was certain Jungkook didn’t mean it, but I wasn’t going to admit that.

“You’re beautiful, too,” I beamed, teasing him. “Even after what we’ve been through today, you’re absolutely breathtaking,” I added, and Jungkook looked away, trying to hide his red cheeks. Carefully, I cupped his face, pressing another delicate kiss against his lips.

Just like feathers, our lips moved against each other. No rush, no hastiness, just pure delight.

Though we were both sore and exhausted, we took our time. Maybe it was past three o’clock now, but we didn’t care. I could stay up all night, kissing him like that.

Slowly, Jungkook’s hands found purchase on my hips, carefully pulling me closer on top of his thighs. Gently, I began rubbing my sex against his muscular legs, trying not to make him hiss. His beautiful thighs had already suffered enough damage when Taehyung had bitten him – I didn’t want to inflict any more pain.

“I wish I could fuck you the way I want to,” Jungkook confessed, taking me aback with his filthy words. He was a good soft boy with a heart of gold; how could he talk dirty to me like that? It was out of his calm and collected character, but I absolutely loved it.

“Don’t worry, I think I’m gonna stick around at least until you’re fully recovered,” I answered with a teasing tone as I reached down to his zipper, freeing his semi-hard cock. “Do you have any plans for New Year’s Eve? Or Valentine’s Day?” I questioned, but Jungkook was too busy to answer right away, ripping my tights apart.

“Actually, I do,” Jungkook mentioned with a lopsided smirk upon his face. “I’m gonna be sitting here between your thighs, buried deep inside your pussy. How do you like that?” He asked mischievously, biting my bottom lip before I managed to reply.

“I hope you’re not all talk,” I answered, staring down at his dick. Carefully, I pulled it out of his pants, giving it a few strokes before I raised my hips, slowly sinking down on his length. “Mmm…” I purred, feeling a pleasant stretch.

“I should’ve prepped you,” Jungkook whispered as he felt my walls slowly adjust to his girth.

“Nah, it’s all fine,” I spoke, getting all comfortable on his dick. “There’s always a next time.”

With a languid, stable pace, I rocked my hips back and forth, riding him. Going this slow allowed me to properly feel every inch of him. It was intimate, and I enjoyed it much more than any mindless pounding, which didn’t always get me off. With Jungkook under me, I was in complete control. He was obedient and responsive to my movements, really making it look easy to push me over the edge.

“I’m coming,” I moaned, feeling the approaching orgasm. Jungkook, instead of messing with my tempo, grabbed my hips, helping me maintain my current pace. “Fuck, Jungkook,” I hissed when he gently pushed his cock deeper inside of me, being seconds away from his own release.

“Come around my cock,” Jungkook ordered, and I obeyed his order, falling into a million pieces on top of him, screaming his name. Thankfully, Jungkook’s hands held me in place. Otherwise, I’d once again collapse onto the floor. “Argh,” Jungkook grunted, shooting his load inside of me. “I want to go again,” he added as soon as he calmed down after the powerful orgasm.

“I think it’ll have to wait,” I answered, though I’d love to go another round. “We can try in the morning. Right now, I need a shower,” I added, and Jungkook nodded his head, resting it between my boobs, too lazy to let me go.

He was still balls deep inside of me, and his cum was slowly oozing out of my pussy, but none of us wanted to move. It felt as pleasant as it was nasty, but we didn’t mind.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Jungkook asked innocently, batting his eyelashes in an attempt to woo me. “That would save lots of water,” he added, and I didn’t want to argue with his reasoning.

“Why the hell not? Let’s go before I change my mind,” I spoke, giving him a hand, helping him stand up. “But,” I added, sternly staring at the boy beside me. “Until we’re fully recovered, it’s just a shower.”

“Sure thing.”

#jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jeongguk fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts smut #bts fluff #christmas smut #bts christmas #bts #bangtan smut

292 notes · View notes

adiabolikpastel · 3 years ago

Text

Title: Lunar Eclipse Masquerade

Reiji pt. 3

Rating: PG-18

Word Count: 3,183

Pairing: Reiji x Callista (mxf)

ღ Reiji and Callista reflect on the night - and wonder about what comes next. Hidden between all their problems, something strange happens when the two are face to face. ღ

Mun Yu: We did it! These are the last pieces of the LEM story. The end to our Lunar Eclipse. I hope that you have enjoyed the ride, and gotten to know the stories on this blog better! Tune in at the end of it all for Authors Notes!

☆+ ﾟ .+ .ﾟ.ﾟ｡ﾟ｡. +ﾟ｡ﾟ.ﾟ｡☆*｡｡ . ｡ o .｡ﾟ｡.o｡* ｡ .｡

Despite what most people think, demonic beings are very social creatures. The elites hold countless balls and parties, celebrating their immortality together, and entertaining one another with stories. Typically, they are done in celebration for something – though this is not always the case. All types of beings from across the Demon Realm will come if the host is of high enough prestige.

There would be no such host if it was not for Karlheinz. Seated as the head of the Bat Clan (vampires), Karl’s reach spans far. Being the widow for the former Demon King’s daughter, and having children of the first blood, an invitation from the Vampire King is not one to refuse. Though why would you? In his immaculate castle within the Demon Realm, Eden Castle, it is always quite the spectacle. While the celebrations held in his Human World mansion are nice, nothing compares to a true night of pleasure within the true home of the King.

On this night, there was to be a Masquerade in honor of the first Lunar Eclipsed Moon in over two years. While this night may serve each species differently, the idea to celebrate its return was simply too tempting. For this reason, Karlheinz took it upon himself – or rather – his house, to host the event. This extended to his offspring as well, regardless of their personal agenda. Members of every social elite race accepted the offer, and gathered for a truly unforgettable evening

The remainder of the night went by with little interest. Once Kanato’s mess was cleaned, there wasn’t much for Reiji to do. It was rather boring. In this solitude he found himself longing for Rika more than ever. He honestly had half a mind to visit her after all this was finished. Punish her for missing this opportunity to be with him.

There were times when he enjoyed Rika’s independence. She was a self-made woman, which honestly he was proud to stand beside. However, there are times when the need for her out weights that. This would be one of them.

Like his brothers, Reiji wanted to parade her about in front of other demons. To show them something out of their reach. The surge of dominance. Truly there was nothing quite like it. At least not to a being like himself. Yet all night he was forced to see his brothers expense that exhilarating feeling.

First Laito runs off with some woman, though that was not new for him. Honestly, when will he mature? It felt as though he were the youngest sibling. Even Subaru showed better manners. Speaking of – he just took notice that his half-brother had come with that android like shadow of his. Perhaps he spoke too soon about Subaru’s maturity. Bringing his ‘baby sitter’.

Although, considering what Reiji was sure the two of them got into – it would be somewhat appropriate for him to accompany Subaru. Their relationship was unsettling. He was sure Shu was also involved with that AKUMU as well. Though he hoped with their plan, Shu put that behind him.

Ayato seemed to have the best time, it was actually somewhat peaceful with him and Yuko-san. Either of them alone was trouble, so it was surprising that together they were behaving. Or perhaps they had a larger scale prank in mind that Reiji was yet to notice. Regardless, it was annoying to see them together. Simply for the fact that he was unable to be with his beloved. It did not help that Yuko and Rika share similar blood. Smelling Yuko was close to smelling Rika – just enough to tease his senses. However, it was clear the two were different.

The other brother with a date, who also caused the most ruckus, was Kanato. Reiji had gotten over that fleeting feeling of jealousy a long time ago when it came to those two. Yet tonight, he could not help but acknowledge that small tinge. Not that he was wanting Yuuki-san on his arm. It was more the general desire once more to have his own love. Any kind of attachment to the young woman now was simply familial – if any at all.

What might be the most upsetting, however, was the fact that even his father had ‘someone’ on his arm. Even if that was the – secretary that he brought on not too long ago. Their relationship was the most… unsettling. Reiji wasn’t sure what bothered him more. The fact that someone as grand as his father was having relations with a common siren, or the fact that the siren was a male who paraded himself around as a female. Even tonight, he clung onto his father’s arm like some sort of harlot.

The sight of them made him ill. Reiji had always respected his father, but this, well – perhaps the man was getting on in age. His life choices were showing that. Once the plan to take the throne was completed, Reiji was slightly worried that Skye Oakly would become a problem for them. That there was something their father was plotting with the siren.

While it was bothersome to see the others enjoying their time with someone dear, it was somehow comforting to know that he was not the only one alone tonight. Shu had also come without a date – though that was mostly by choice. Shu had yet to find a mate, which again, was why he was perfect for the plan. With no attachments to this world it would be easier for Shu to take the risk of fighting their father. He had nothing to lose. Reiji hoped that his brother would be enough for the task. He would be lying if there wasn’t a more hidden motive behind it all.

With his brother fighting, Reiji would not need to. There were many reasons behind that, and on this night of the Eclipse, he felt them all plaguing his mind. Even the ones he never thought to admit to himself. The most evident being that he was not good enough. Always second to Shu. Would his strength alone be enough to defeat their father? Reiji seriously doubted it. Then there was the most obvious thought of dying. He could not bare the idea of leaving Rika behind in such a way. Life had just found a meaning beyond simply existing.

Was that because of Rika as well? This was something Reiji had also not allowed himself to think about. No longer was he suck in this never ending night of repetition. Rika offered him something more. A life beyond. A life. A Future. That was all something he could not risk. So it was selfish of him to ask that Shu take on that burden. To risk his own life for the comfort of his own, and their siblings.

Lastly there was the deep rooted desire to see Shu loose. This was something Reiji truly hated himself for thinking. Damned if it wasn’t for the moon, he would still not think of it. That feeling since childhood. This hatred of his brother. It was something, in their current life, which Reiji was attempting to get over. Now that he was with someone who also had relationship issues with their sibling, he wanted to be better about it. Wanted to form some sort of bond with Shu. For deep down he knew that behind all that hatred was –

Enough of this self-refection! Reiji shook his head, forcing the moons influence out of his mind. This was not the time to get lost in thought – let alone thoughts that would do him no good. With that, he decided to locate his brothers so they could return back to the mansion. The only one he needed to locate was Shu, who had mysteriously vanished for most of the night.

Reiji hoped that he had not simply left the event. It would be prudent of him to at least try to get used to this life. If he was going to be King – things would change. As he scanned over the attendees, Reiji’s eyes happen to fall onto a familiar set of horns. A familiar dress. Ah, that young woman from earlier. Calli, was her name, if he recalled. She was headed to the dance floor, how envious, but a woman her age was bound to have suitors.

As the band prepared for their final set of the evening, the crowds seemed to part for her and whomever she was dancing with. While sweet symphonic notes filled the air, Reiji was able to see the hand that took hers. Shu!? What?! Reiji was shocked to say the least. His lazy brother was actually dancing. Wait – more than that – who he was dancing with!

Was he aware that Calli was the daughter of a demon lord? He was almost certain she was Ajax’s daughter. One of the noble clans. Eagles. If he was planning on doing something – no – Shu wasn’t like that. Was he? Reiji fought with himself on this matter. Would Shu honestly come to this event and try to leave with someone? He knew what was at stake here!

Not to mention who this ‘someone’ was! Surely if her father saw the two of them- Reiji quickly tried to locate the Eagle King. Thankfully he was currently occupied. Reiji recalled that he was the type to talk a lot. How could he fix this!? There had to be something, anything – even if it was just to get her away from Shu. That’s it!

Callista followed with Shu’s movements while the soft orchestra played for them. It was rather strange to be dancing with him – mostly because the two had just met. Also, and more so probably, because they had both agreed to officially go along with this ‘engagement’ their parents had devised. While the situation wasn’t ideal, there was little she could do about it on her own. It was comforting to know that Shu was also unsure about all of this.

Despite how the evening had started, Calli could breathe easier now. She had been so nervous coming to this ball. While at the main family home in the Makai, earlier in the month, her father had explained the idea of the arranged marriage to her. Of course immediately she was against it. What modern woman in her right mind wouldn’t be?

The idea that her life would be traded away for some, political gain, was atrocious. Callista wanted no part of the discussion, stressing to her parents that this was not the future she wanted. Her mother, Catalina, was more understanding of her position. This was not something the family had ever wanted for their daughters.

Being the current head of the Eagle Demon’s, Callista’s father, Ajax, had a world of responsivities to uphold. However, he had never, not once, allowed those to directly affect his children. Her older brothers, Alexander and Meteo, were welcome to choose their brides. Even if they were only choosing from the eligible demons within the high court. Smaller family names within the Clan.

Her eldest sister Evangeline, was able to marry a man she loved. While he was no price with large titles, she was given that choice. Sister Lucille was now married and living in the human realm. Even Ioanna, the closest sibling to Callista in age, was not forced to wed. She was out traveling the realms. Allowed to spread her wings, fly to far off places, to be free.

Something that Callista knew little about. Being the youngest for quite a long time, her parents – mostly Ajax- were protective. Calli was never allowed to travel without them. Sure the family took many vacations and trips to far off places together, but, her siblings were all able to do that themselves – or with friends. Which Calli was severely lacking. No one wanted to play with the Eagle Lord’s daughter – who not to mention was a shut in.

Though, growing up like that, she didn’t hate it. In fact, now there was nothing she loved more then to curl up and read. Read about anything really, whether it was fiction or non. The books she loved the most were about culture. Learning how humans and other demon species live. Gaining a better understanding of the world, without actually living in it. Thinking about that now, it sounds depressing actually.

All that to say, why does it now fall to her, to give up the kind of life she had always wanted? Why was this suddenly her responsibility, when being the fifth born, really shouldn’t mean anything – according to the books she had read on succession. So what made this different? Had the Vampire Lord’s son seen her and decided he liked her? Were things in the clan so difficult that her father had to secure and alliance this badly? Even if they were to wed, that would only have her lead in the name of the Bat Clan one day – not the Eagle – so what was the point? What did it all mean?

Callista found herself focusing on those questions as the news of this Masquerade came to their doorstep. The invitation to attend was extended to her parents, but it also made a special note to bring her along. Callista begged for her parents to reject the proposal. That there was no need for such a union. That it would do their people no good. That it would ruin the happiness she wanted for herself. She had thoughts that the three of them came to an understanding. That at this party, Ajax would reject the offer from Karlheinz.

That was until her father actually talked to him. She should have known. The most powerful being in the realms would have something in mind to bend things to their will. Sure enough, after their talked, her father came rushing over to tell her the great news. She would marry Karlheinz eldest son.

At first, Calli wondered if it would be the one she met on the balcony. Having met him just before the news, it might not be so bad. He seemed well put together, and spoke with an air of intelligence. She was happy to have met him under her own terms before being forcefully introduced to some stranger. Unfortunately, it was not him, and that very fear came to pass. She was presented to another man.

This one was taller than her, but not as tall as the other. His hair golden, and eyes deep as the sea. He looked at her with such… contempt? Or was it simply confusion? It was apparent that he was not prepared for this. Perhaps he was not told of their union until this moment. Well, she wasn’t either – at least the idea of following through with it.

It was nice to get away with him for a while. While introduced as Ririe, Shu was not quite what she was expecting from the next in line for the great power behind the Bat Clan’s leader. While his mannerisms might look incorrect, to the trained eye, you could see the years of practice that went into his existence. The way he moved and held himself, told her that he was raised with proper etiquette.

Shu was handsome. She had no complaints with his appearance. He did seem rather lazy – or perhaps he was simply tired from the night. The first time alone with a newly announced fiancé should be to nap on a fountain. That being said, there was grace in everything he did. There were no wasted movements. Every muscle he had was well trained, no matter how hard he might have tried to hide it.

While Shu released her for a twirl, Callista found a new set of hands take her own. Pulling her from Shu’s lead, and into another’s. A hand moves around her waist, while the first hand guides her into the frame of a new partner. Looking up, Calli’s eyes are met with a pair of pale magenta. Glared over just slightly from a pair of glasses, and the lights from above reflecting and blocking their connection.

For a brief moment, the world around her faded away. It was something like – looking into the eyes of- well… she couldn’t quite explain. A sudden feeling washed over her entire being. Normally if someone grabbed her as such, she would protest. However- something in this moment felt… safe. Secure? There were no precise words to describe it.

“Forgive me for intruding, I had promised her a dance when we met before. You don’t mind, do you Shu?” Reiji spoke to his rather confused brother. In typical Shu fashion, he simply shrugged and left the two of them alone. Reiji let out a small sigh of relief, thankful that Shu was not serious about pursing a night spent with Ajax’s daughter. “My apologies, Lady Calli. I did not mean to interrupt your dance but I –"

Reiji was spotted in his apology when he looked down to see her golden eyes looking back at him. They were mesmerizing. It has been ages since Reiji was truly able to look into the eyes of someone like himself. Not that looking into Rika’s eyes was not enchanting – but this – this was different. A new element of excitement flashed through him.

The knowledge that this woman could with stand his strength. That the eyes locked with his own were just as deadly. The body that was pressed against him would not bruise and break under the simply act of pulling her to him. The feeling of being with another immortal. It was exhilarating.

Callista could feel the power behind the arms which held her. Unlike with Shu just moments ago – these hands were full of purpose. A desire to hold her close. Even if it was simply to move her from Shu. Now in this embraced state, Calli would recognize this new partner as Reiji Sakamaki – who she had met earlier, just before Shu.

For brothers the two of them did not share many features. The same could not be said for her siblings – they all looked similar to one another. Yet these two, not even their hair color matched. Calli wondered what else was different. Their speaking patterns for one – Reiji was much more elegant with is words. Shu simply seemed to say whatever he pleased.

“I … was simply unware if your – father knew that the two of you were…” Reiji searched himself to find the right words. It was bad enough that his brother had stolen a dance with one of the great Lord’s daughters. Now he was doing the same. Yet as he held her against him – he found himself unable to let go.

She barely understood what he was saying – these overwhelming – almost primal, instincts were quite the distraction. “Oh… I-"

“Callista my dear!” Ajax’s voice boomed both of them back into their senses as the large Eagle brought himself over to them. “We must be going! Much to do back home to prepare for your big move!”

Reiji and Callista backed away from one another, both exchanging awkward glances and nervous laughs. “You are moving once again?” Reiji ask, composing himself. “Where will your family take nest for now?”

“Sadly my daughter’s journeys with us have ended. She will be moving into the Sakamaki Mansion! To get to know her new fiancé! Young Lord Ririe! The two should be very happy together – it’s quite the match if I do say so myself!” The demon let out a haughty laugh as he placed an arm around Callista.

“It… would seem we shall get to see one another again.” She blushes, embarrassed by her father’s outburst.

“So it would seem.” The news came to Reiji slowly. As he bid Callista and her father farewell, he couldn’t help but replay it in his mind.

Not only was this new woman about to enter their mansion – but she was … for Shu? Shu? His brother? This was impossible. How could that have even happened? Did Ajax come here with intentions of the two of them getting married? Or was it-!?

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Reiji could feel his father’s presence. His will. A calling to seek him out. Reiji looked about the – now less populated – ballroom. While he could not locate his father, he felt his message. Felt the intent behind his actions. Karlheinz knew of their plan. It would seem that – what was once something as simple as training Shu – now grew more complicated.

☆+ ﾟ .+ .ﾟ.ﾟ｡ﾟ｡. +ﾟ｡ﾟ.ﾟ｡ ROUTE END ☆*｡｡ . ｡ o .｡ﾟ｡.o｡* ｡ .｡

#writing #Lunar Eclipse Masquerade #LEM

17 notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 5 years ago

Note

OH MY GOD THEYRE OPENED! Um, can I get something with Kenma with a darling who he considers as “troubled” or “needs help” and how he deals with that?

This is an idea I’ve been playing with, for a while. Kenma’s just so soft, he’d barely be able to train his Darling properly… He still gets the job done, though. Assume this takes place somewhere after the current time-skip.

TW: Emotional Abuse, Sleep Deprivation, and Implied Suicidal Ideation.

This was supposed to teach you a lesson.

That was the part that got to you, the part that hurt. You knew Kenma didn’t think much of you, but every passing minute only cemented the idea that he saw you as a stubborn child in need of instruction, or failing that, a pet who wouldn’t obey his commands. As disorienting, deafening sounds cut through the silence of Kenma’s apartment, whatever game he was playing set to a blaring volume, you couldn’t help but settle into the groove you’d formed in his sofa, resting your head on his thigh. You’d lost track of how long the two of you had been there, Kenma playing the newest survival-release in the same crossed-legged, hunched over position and you laying at his side, squirming uncomfortably whenever his attention strayed from the task at-hand. It must’ve been hours, and it was getting so late…

As soon as your eyes closed, nimble fingers were rooted in your hair, jerking you upward and forcing you to brace yourself on unsupportive cushions. His grip was so tight, so unrelenting, your scalp beginning to ache in a matter of seconds, but your quiet whimpers and murmured excuses did little to satisfy him. Instead, he took to staring, gaze prying through the darkness to better burn into you, only letting up once Kenma had gotten his fill. You could never be sure what he was looking for, but he must’ve found it, letting you go and frowning as he watched you fall back into place. “You’re not allowed to go to sleep,” He explained, bluntly. “Not until you admit you did something wrong.”

“I haven’t done anything,” You spat, not bothering to hide the distaste in your tone. One of you had to be human, and Kenma’d never been very good at it. “I already said I’m sorry, isn’t that enough? If you just told me what you’re mad about--”

“That’s not the point.” He sounded impassive, rational. You wanted to tear his vocal cords out of his stomach and hang yourself with them. “You have to figure it out, or you won’t remember not to do it, next time.”

You sighed, going over the events of that day, as you had countless times already. You’d woken up before Kenma, and started making breakfast while he slept in. You two had talked about nothing in particular, and then he’d left for an interview and you’d began your self-imposed daily chore list. It was a way to drive away the boredom, Kenma’s tablets, consoles and laptops all locked with a passcode you couldn’t seem to guess and books only providing so much entertainment, when you had more than enough time to spare. You’d cleaned, dusting and sweeping and sanitizing until the apartment was as spotless as it’d been before you started, and took a nap before Kenma got home. He was already mad, by then.

You didn’t like thinking about your life, too often. Captivity made everything dull, repetitive, and the tracking chip embedded in your ankle could only keep you on-edge for so long. Most days, you tried to focus on what you’d do when you got away for Kenma. When you found a savings account he hadn’t drained or a friend who wasn’t turned against you, and you finally got to do something without his permission. But, that wasn’t going to happen today and thoughts so hopeful wouldn’t do anything to get you out of tonight. You were too tired to come up with anything new, honestly.

“I don’t know,” You admitted, shrugging half-heartedly. “I just… I don’t know.”

He blinked once, twice, but he didn’t pause his game. “We’ve got time.”

His character snuck up behind one of his blandly designed opponents, the third-person perspective focusing in on both men as one drew a knife across the other’s neck, ending his life in an anti-climatic act of meaningless violence. You couldn’t help but wish Kenma would do the same to you.

You’d woken up an hour before noon, thirty minutes before Kema’s alarm went off. You didn’t bother changing before making breakfast, just brushing your hair and washing your face. You couldn’t remember what you made, something with eggs and bell-peppers, but Kenma liked the recipe. You were happy he did, even if you cursed yourself for it. He said he had an interview for Bouncing Ball that he was going to be late for, but still clung to your side and sulked until you kissed him goodbye. You’d dusted, then you swept, then you sat by one of his windows and stared down at the street until your legs went numb. You remembered your old job, the one you’d been eager to leave when Kenma offered to support you, and you cried for a few minutes. You tried to sleep, but gave up when Kenma burst in to tell you how ungrateful you were.

Did he use the word ungrateful? He might’ve said selfish. That sounded like something he would say.

“Baby,” You whined, picking yourself up. You were so exhausted, it was all you could do not to collapse back into a confused, resentful heap. Still, you drapped yourself gingerly over his shoulders, clinging to a bent arm and nuzzling into his back. You didn’t care what you were pressing against, as long as it got his attention. “I’m bored, Kozume, I’m tired. C’mon, let’s go to bed. We can cuddle, if you want. Don’t you want to cuddle?”

Your display earned a glance from the corner of his eye, a slight shift to let you better slot yourself against him. But, if he was sympathetic, he wasn’t going to admit it. Suddenly, you were aware of just how loud the clicks and snaps from his controller were, how desperately you wanted to smash the thing to bits. “I want you to behave. I don’t care if it takes all night, neither of us are going anywhere until you stop being such a brat.”

You could’ve sobbed. You’d woken an hour before noon. Kenma was next to you, slotted against your back, and you waited for him to roll over before getting up. You thought about changing into street-clothes, but abandoned the idea as soon as you made it back to your closet, just putting on something you’d never leave the house in and making breakfast. Kenma told you about a conversation he’d had with Shoyo and asked if you wanted to go to a match being held nearby, and you pretended you hadn’t heard him. He’d been happy, with that, and changed the topic. When he was getting ready to leave, he threatened to lock you in the supply closet again if you didn’t kiss, laughing like he still believed it was a joke. You kissed him. You dusted the living room, cleaned every surface of the kitchen and polished whatever you could polish, before sitting by the window and crying your eyes out. You got up, after that, passing the front door on your way to the bedroom, and tried to handle to see if it was--

Oh. Right.

You tried the handle.

You almost smiled, melting into Kenma’s sleeve. “I’m sorry,” You mumbled, squeezing his arm affectionately. “I shouldn’ve tried to open the front door. It… It wasn’t nice to make you worry.” You paused, more for yourself than for him. You felt him relax, finally pausing that awful, awful game, but you didn’t stop. “I’m not going to leave you, I promise.”

Slowly, he turned towards you, cupping your cheeks and kissing your forehead gently, lowering you down onto the plush surface before standing up. You closed your eyes and curled into yourself as he switched off the over-sized monitor, casting the room in blissful, merciful darkness. You didn’t bother trying to go to bed, just listening as Kenma’s footsteps faded into the distance, silently thanking whoever could hear you when those finally stopped, too.

You’d need as much rest as you could get, before he decided it was time for your next lesson.

515 notes · View notes

tormentum-ab-intra · 3 years ago

Text

Promises

CW: captivity, dehumanization, conditioning, affectionate whumper, whumpee with severe Stockholm syndrome

Characters: Jalla and Mawa

Glossary: Kilwatha -- one of four orcish sister goddesses; patron deity of betrayal, disownment, apostasy, and severed ties Ahti Hau -- arachnid deity; patron of black widow shifters

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

“You’ll be good for me, won’t you? You’ll behave while I’m away?” Jalla’s gaze sweeps over her captive healer, taking in the nervous red tinge to his irises, the uncertain tilt of his head. She tuts quietly, feeling worried in spite of herself. Growing fond of Mawa was never part of the plan, but then, Kilwatha never was one to bargain rationally with the Fates.

“What’s the matter, lamb? You seem tense.” She reaches out to cup his face in her hands, pretending not to notice his subtle flinch at the unexpected contact. She has yet to train those flinches and other such reactions out of him, but that’s alright. There’s still plenty of time.

For a moment, Mawa’s silent. It’s not that he doesn’t want to answer her, he just isn’t sure how best to explain it. He thinks maybe he’s worried she’ll get hurt while she’s away, or maybe...

It doesn’t matter.

“Don’t want you to go,” he mumbles quietly, unsure if that’ll count as speaking out of turn. He waits, but no sudden pain is forthcoming. Maybe she’s opting to forgive him this time. Gods, he hopes so.

“Wee lamb,” Jalla says, gentle and amused in equal measures. “We’ve been over this, haven’t we? I have things to do. Important things.” From his face her hands slide up and into his hair, combing through it carefully and arranging it just so.

Mawa wants to lean into that affectionate touch, but he’s not supposed to move when Jalla’s doing things, he knows that. If he moves his head, he’ll mess up his hair. If that happens, she’ll have to start over, and of course they can’t have that. Instead he just shifts around a little so his legs are tucked beneath him. Hands folded neatly in his lap, he goes still.

“As much as you and I both would like, I can’t spend all my time here with you.” Jalla smiles at him, even though he can’t see it. Done fussing with his hair, she withdraws her hands, enamored with how disappointed he seems by the loss of her touch. “Maybe, if you’re really good and get all of your chores done, I’ll let you sit with me in my study while I work later. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

At that, Mawa perks up considerably. “Can do that,” he echoes, anxious but hopeful. “I’ll be good, Jalla. Promise.” Already, his irises seem less red, fading back to their usual, calm hazel.

“Atta lamb,” Jalla croons, bending down to kiss his forehead. “You know what to do. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

With that, she’s gone.

Mawa listens for the familiar clicks and snaps of the numerous locks being done up on their door, and for the sound of her footsteps fading down the path afterwards. For as long as Jalla’s within earshot, Mawa doesn’t move. It’s a long time to stay still, given his keen shifters’ hearing, but it’s important. He has to be good.

He doesn’t move until he’s certain she’s really gone, but once she is he gets to work. He knows what’s expected of him, after all; there’s lots to get done, and precious few hours to do it all. Cooking, cleaning, tidying, organizing...he supposes it’s a good thing he’s memorized the house’s layout by now, so he doesn’t have to waste time wandering and bumping into things.

The chain at his ankle rattles as he moves, jarring and constant, but he doesn’t mind it today. The weight of the cuff is familiar, reassuring. It keeps him tied to this place so he can’t be stolen away. Likewise, the collar at his throat serves to warn people off, so there’s no mistaking who he belongs to. He’s grateful to Jalla for granting these things to him, for caring so much about his safety. She’s so thoughtful and kind.

He couldn’t ask for a better master.

Carefully, so as to not disrupt any of Jalla’s things, Mawa goes about cleaning the place up. He even hums to himself, just quietly. Humming isn’t against the rules, not like singing is. It helps to settle any residual nerves, so he doesn’t worry so much about being left alone. Jalla left, but she’ll come back. She always does.

Still humming, he returns to his spot by the door once his tasks and chores are complete, settling in to wait patiently. It’s a little boring, but that’s alright. He wants to be sure he’s there to greet Jalla when she returns.

Only, as hours tick by and the light coming in through the windows starts to fade, Mawa begins to wonder.

He feels bad for wondering, for doubting, but she said she’d return in a few hours and it’s been much longer than that already. Still...he’s gotta trust her, so he does his best to put it out of his mind.

Maybe a distraction will help, he figures. He gets back up and goes to the kitchen. Dinner’s already prepared and set out on the table, but there’s no harm in baking something extra to keep himself busy. Jalla’s always saying how much she loves his baking, and he hopes she isn’t saying it just to be nice, so if he’s lucky then maybe she’ll be pleased. He listens carefully for the sound of footsteps as he works, but the property remains quiet.

Eerily quiet.

By the time Mawa goes back to his spot by the door to wait again, the food is cold and his cheery humming dwindles down into anxious silence.

Of course she’ll be back...right? She said she would be. She must be running late, that’s all. But in the back of his mind, he thinks, maybe she’s been hurt. Maybe she’s in trouble somewhere. He isn’t supposed to leave the property without her, but what if she never comes back? He’ll be alone here. Forever. The thought is troubling, to say the least.

In any case, there’s nothing left for him to do except wait, so wait he does, sometimes sitting still, sometimes fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. At one point, he even reaches down to trace the runes on his cuff and chain with his fingertips. The runes are a reminder that Jalla cares. She keeps her promises. She’ll be home soon.

With that in mind, Mawa’s able to wait a few hours more. He starts to sway where he sits, eyelids drooping, but tries doggedly to stay awake. It’s tiring, waiting this far into the night, but he doesn’t want to miss Jalla’s return. He’d be so disappointed if he did, and he’s sure she would be, too. But eventually, inevitably, there comes a point where he can’t stay awake any longer. Maybe it’ll be okay if he naps, just for a bit.

His thoughts from earlier become something of a mantra as he closes his eyes.

Jalla cares. She keeps her promises. She’ll be home soon.

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

With slow, shuffling steps and a heavy heart, Mawa makes his way through the painfully empty house, cleaning things as he goes. The chain at his ankle clatters, harsh and incessant. He can’t stand it, but there’s no getting rid of it, either. Aside from that loud and heavy clanking, the house is silent. No humming, no baking, no nothing.

It’s been days since Jalla left; maybe weeks, maybe longer. Mawa can’t be sure. He hates the constant quiet, the lack of touch and reassurance, the lack of company. He hates not having Jalla here to tell him what he’s supposed to do.

Worrying about her condition is a constant, these days. There’s no way of knowing if she’s okay, or if she’s even still alive -- but he doesn’t want to think about that. He can’t think about that.

“Jalla cares,” he whispers faintly. He hates how loud his voice sounds next to the silence of before. “Cares, keeps her promises...she’ll -- she’ll be home eventually...”

Not for the first time and certainly not for the last, Mawa finds himself too upset to continue with his chores. He really should get them done, he knows, but there’s just no will left to do anything. Slowly he sinks to his knees, broom still held loosely in his hands, and weeps.

He has to trust that she’ll return, he knows that, but he can’t help despairing anyway. She’s been gone for so long. He doesn’t know what to do. He needs her here, he can’t function without her -- isn’t that what she’s always saying? And she wouldn’t lie to him, of course she wouldn’t. Not about something so important. Jalla knows best. Always. If Jalla were here, what would she say?

Wee lamb, as cute as your tears are, there’s work to be done. Come on. Up. Go on.

Mawa makes a soft, miserable sound, but gets up and resumes his chores. If -- when -- Jalla comes home, she’ll want the place clean and tidy. She’ll expect dinner to be ready and on the table. After being gone for so long, she shouldn’t have to deal with things being awry because of him.

There’s a certain measure of comfort in these repetitive tasks, in knowing he’s doing what Jalla would expect of him. He promised he’d be good. He has to keep that promise, no matter what.

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

It’s already snowed once or twice this week -- at least, as far as Mawa can tell. The house is cold without Jalla here to chop wood and light fires, especially with the seasons changing as they are. He’d go out and do it himself, but his chain isn’t long enough for that, and he’s not meant to leave the house without her anyway.

The cold makes Mawa’s joints stiff and achy, makes it harder to stay awake and do his chores. He’s still not all that used to this region’s winters, and he suspects he never will be. Arachnid shifters just aren’t built to handle such low temperatures.

Even so, it’s not like that really matters. He’s more concerned about Jalla, and whether she has anyplace warm to stay right now. He hopes to Ahti Hau that she’s okay.

His chores for the day are done, but waiting by the door is just unbearable today. Instead, Mawa lies curled up on the rug at the foot of Jalla’s bed, shivering, just barely conscious. He knows he mustn’t let himself sleep yet, no matter how tempting it may be, no matter how the cold may try to tip him over the edge. He’s gotta be awake to listen, so he can run to the door when -- if -- Jalla returns.

The bed would be more comfortable, and it’d be warmer, but he isn’t allowed up there without permission. He does have Jalla’s pillow, though. It’s comforting to hold onto, warm and soft and carrying her scent.

He hopes she won’t be too angry at him for borrowing it.

#whump #captivity #stockholm syndrome #dehumanization #pet whump #and pet names #jalla calls mawa 'lamb'#Mawa #Jalla #angst #:(#Jalla's Cabin #tormentum-ab-intra

7 notes · View notes

thexhostess · 4 years ago

Text

Untitled - Part 1

Brandon Boyd X Reader

Words: 1,249

Rating: ☑☐☐ = fluffy

Tags: @olyvoyl @fineanddandy

The Incubus show was about to start in two hours but you have no ticket. Your thoughts are screaming, you won’t get in. You’ve arrived alone, and your only hope is to find a person with spares, or a scalper as a last resort. A guy is hanging around near the entrance to the venue and you approach him. He’s trying to re-sell for tonight so you decide to chance it. You begin enquiring and he starts to explain that he already sold to one other person, but no one else wants to buy from him, yet swears he’s legit. He’s nervously going round in circles. His repetition tells you this is a bad idea and you decide to leave it.

You walk out into the open plaza in front of the venue and look for anyone who might look like they are advertising selling spares. A couple of women say they are, and you specify you need a standing ticket. Almost relieved you ask to pay right then and there but the woman tells you there’s a que. You look around and there are about seven people waiting to purchase from her. You’ve also just missed the other seller’s ticket, as she calls across saying she has none for tonight’s show. So now because of your lack of focus, you’ve probably missed out on all the unclaimed tickets. Disbelieving you messed up this badly, it takes a while but you begin to accept your shortcomings and that there’s no way you will be going to the show.

Deciding to hang around until the end of the show anyway, you opt for dinner alone at one of the places nearby. Might as well and make the most of the evening here, then perhaps if you feel up to it, you can wait by the tour buses for a chance to meet Brandon as he is nice enough to wait up and take photos with fans most nights on tour.

After a purposefully drawn out dinner and lone cocktails, you freshen up your makeup in the ladies bathroom. If not for yourself...if not now, when?

Resuming your place at your table, you complete some work related tasks on your phone. After about a half hour, a final sip of your drink ends your time here as it’s getting late and you want to check out the venue for any band members, namely Boyd.

Walking slowly out of the pub opposite the venue, nonchalant as you have no real hope to see anyone. You’ve already missed the show and that was gutting enough. Your phone disturbs as you walk through the square. You take the call as you find a bench to perch on. You’re done with the call in ten minutes and you rummage with your purse putting your valuables away to get ready to set off again.

It’s dark now with only street lamps to illuminate the area, the lights from the pubs and restaurants across the street you’ve walked from and the spotlights in the perimeter of the paved square. A concert goer is sitting on a bench to your right, maybe ten metres away. He’s dimly lit but you can make out his mustard yellow Converse in the dark. At least you won’t be waiting alone around here, other fans will be hanging around too soon enough, as the initial crowd rush has subsided.

No longer paying attention, you are focused on putting your phone away into your bag, just as you turn back you see the yellow converse standing near you. Assuming the fan wants to chat, you feel relief that actually, you won’t have to keep to yourself and it won’t be so boring. By the time you look up to meet the guy’s gaze, your stomach is already in acrobatics mode. You don’t show it and remain calm. It’s him standing there.

‘Hello, are you ok?’ he says.

You try to pretend you’ve never seen him before. He’s waiting and you’re not replying.

Do I ask what he’s doing here? That would be rude and I would look disingenuous. Can’t say that I didn’t expect to see him.

’I’m ok thank you.’ Embarrassed at the blandness of your own response you add, ‘How was the concert?’

I’m sure he knows you’re a fan if you are hanging by the venue right now and probably trying to meet him, it’s best to be upfront.

‘I wouldn’t be a good judge of that, you were not there?’ he asks.

‘No..unfortunately I couldn’t get a ticket in time, I tried to get in but...no luck’ you say.

He hesitates briefly, ‘What’s your name? I’m Brandon.’

You smile , ‘Hi Brandon, I’m Y/N.’

You notice his eyes reflect the lights around you. There’s kindness and concern in his eyes too. Butterflies start flying.

‘Y/N, Where are you headed, can I give you a ride?’

The shock and the butterflies are starting to do a number on you. ‘A ride? Wait..aren’t you going back to your bus now for the next show..and the fans are hanging around there I’m sure?’

‘I’ve been rushed by them already, so not feeling like hanging out tonight, not the most respectful crowd..’

‘That sucks, sorry.’ you apologise on behalf of all fans.

‘Don’t apologise, I’d rather be here than there,..you haven’t rushed me. Came here to get away and saw you..’ those brown eyes are killing you. You can hardly believe what he’s saying. You look him in the eye and you both hesitate.

‘What made you come over?’ you feel a bit bold, but keep a neutral tone and keep the eye contact.

‘I got a different vibe from you.’ He holds out his arm to you.

Trying not to instantly reach for his hand, you take too long and he carefully takes your hand pulling you up from your seat. Face to face you’re as tall as him at 5’10 and it feels weirdly intimate standing here like this. He’s silent.

‘..oh and I don’t need to be anywhere... live close enough so don’t worry about the ride. Thank you so much though.’

He smiles, ‘You’re welcome, I’m glad you don’t have to be anywhere. D’ya want to hang out for a while, the others will be on the bus too.’ He reassures.

No more polite declines as you give in, smiling ‘I’d like that.’

Walking side by side, from the corner of your eye you see he’s watching you. When you get near the tour buses, Brandon weaves you towards them, past fans, quickly and at enough distance so they don’t notice or bother you.

You reach the bus and stop at the sliding door. He unlocks the door, opens it for you and guides you in, ever so lightly placing his hand on the small of your back. Locking it behind him, he climbs the step up to you. It’s a cozy space, with a central isle and sleeping quarters divided by screens. He walks you through, past the bunk beds, where the space opens up to plush sofas wrapped around three walls. There are 30’s style wall sconces. Windows are covered and the place is like a comfort cocoon. There’s a traditional patterned rug in the centre of the room in gold and burgundy shades. The lights are dim, relaxed and golden warm here.

He breaks the silence and says, ‘Plus I came over because you’re beautiful.’ Your stomach truly flips out when you hear him say it.

#brandon boyd fanfic #BB fanfic #Brandon Boyd fanfiction #Brandon Boyd imagine #BB imagine #BB x reader #Brandon Boyd x reader #fanfic #fiction #imagine #incubus band fanfic #incubus band imagine #incubus band x reader #wrote this back in Sept #I finally posted it

18 notes · View notes

ladyc0312 · 4 years ago

Text

A Jikook Guide to Run! BTS: 1-20

Hi all! Welcome to part one of my overview of all jikook moments in Run! BTS and Run BEHIND.

My biggest takeaway from these early episodes is that BH didn't quite know how to make a good variety show yet. Some of the set-ups are awkward and the guys are clearly still getting used to being on camera in this format. The jikook moments aren’t as frequent or obvious. As we go on, expect less “they look at each other in a maybe meaningful way” and more “then he sat down in his lap...” That said, this set of episodes includes both the priest skit and the cops skit, so if you’re into role-play, this was your era of Run!

Episode Guide under the cut, to avoid both spoilers and taking up half your dash...

UPDATED PER THE SUGGESTIONS OF SOME LOVELY COMMENTERS. THANK YOU ALL! New content in bold.

FYI: When you don’t see “BEHIND” descriptions or photos, it means there were no notable jikook moments. I’ve given each ep a general rating and a special Jikook-ery rating, both out of 5. YMMV!

Ep 1 (n/a)

The one that’s just a commercial for the V app

Ep 2 “The Greatest Man” (Ep: 3 / KM: 1)

The one with the most homoerotic series of challenges I’ve ever seen to prove who’s the “best” man

6:28 - Jimin TWICE randomly announces during musical chairs that JK will win

Not ikook-specific, but FYI, Jungkook REALLY likes being tickled. If you want a vague idea of what the beginnings of an OT7 orgy might look like, the scene at 2:09 is for you! And if you’re curious what each member looks like putting on lipstick and holding their mouths open, check out 4:24.

Ep 3 “Theme Park” (Ep: 1 / KM: 1)

The one at Six Flags that’s not worth watching unless you enjoy shaky camera footage of people screaming on roller coasters

5:44 - When Jimin is proud of himself for having ridden a coaster, JK goes to say something to him but keeps glancing at the camera self-consciously.

6:19 - With the camera further away, JK and JM talk with each other while waiting on line

7:06 - JK fast-walks to get to JM and then leans on JM’s shoulder to check the post-ride pictures

Ep 4 “30 Second Gate” (Ep: 1 / KM: 0.5)

The one where they do fairly boring challenges in a pool

5:26 - There’s a super brief instant of JK looking over at Jimin while shyly tugging on his shirt collar. Prob not even worth being noted as a moment, but JK looks so adorable that I’m including it anyway

Ep 5 “100 Seconds Sports Day” (Ep: 1 / KM: 1)

The one with a rather repetitive relay game

5:56 - JM playfully throws a milk carton at JK when JK fails to complete his task

7:53 - JK does some “teleporting” where he goes from being behind Suga in one shot to next to JM in the following one. He stays next to JM the whole rest of the time they’re mixing the drink.

Ep 6 “Sketch: Confession” (Ep: 2 / KM: 4)

The priest sketch that launched a thousand AUs...

3:30 - Jungkook comes in to “confess his sins” to Jimin, who is playing a priest and calls him “darling.” JK confesses to using Jin’s razor while also claiming to be the eldest in BTS. Jimin tells him that he’s so handsome, it must be that he’s blessed by God and can be forgiven for most things. Jimin tells JK to give him a hug to get forgiveness for his sins. As they hug, both are smiling and the onscreen text tells us how happy Jimin is and puts a little heart next to his face during the hug. Jimin strokes JK’s cheek after and it seems to make JK a little shy. Jimin calls out “bye, darling” as he leaves, then calls him “cutie” for the camera. For comparison’s sake, Jimin hits V on the forehead and makes J-Hope do 50 push-ups to earn forgiveness. He hugs J-Hope at the end of it and the difference between how that hug feels versus the one with JK is clear as day.

Ep 6pt2 “Sketch: Confession” (Ep: 2 / KM: 0 )

None (neither appear in this episode)

Ep 7 “Paintball” (Ep: 1 / KM: 1)

The one that reminds you paintball is more fun to play than to watch

I’ll be honest, guys, between the masked helmets they’re wearing and the constant cutting around, I cannot follow the paintball games in this episode at all. I’m going to go out on a limb and say nothing particularly shippy happens during them.

9:54 - JK picks up Jimin from behind and bounces him around for a while (we don’t know how long because the camera cuts before he’s done). It will be revealed in ep. 10 that this is part of JK’s secret mission, which is to get Jimin to say “please stop.” However, despite Jimin not looking thrilled at all the bouncing around, he doesn’t tell JK to stop.

Ep 8 “Treasure Hunt” (Ep: 2 / KM: 2)

The one where they run or ride ATVs to find flags in the woods

1:15 - Jimin says out of nowhere that he thinks JK is going to be running and tells him to be careful not to bump into anyone (I think - the subs are a little weird on this one).

13:09 - JK tries to take one of JM’s meal ticket flags. JM refuses and claims JK called him “trash.” JK (kind of?) denies this and throws his one flag on the ground in frustration. J-Hope grabs it and JK sulks a bit because he’s left with nothing.

13:33 - Jimin reverses course and gives JK one of his flags. JK is delighted. RM asks why (apparently he, Jimin, and V had a deal to share their flags?) and Jimin just responds that Jungkook is very cute (which the on-screen texts puts a heart next to). Jimin ends up giving a flag to V, too, but he makes him beg like a dog first.

14:16 - Jimin calls JK over and gives him a brief hug / pat on the back

Ep 9 “Bungee Jump” (Ep: 1 / KM: 0.5)

The one where it is what it says on the tin

11:25 - Some jikookers have reported hearing JK say an un-captioned “pretty” here (sounds like yebbeo or yeebeun in Korean). I’ll be totally honest that I can’t really make it out, but I will put this note here in case others with better ears than mine want to check it out!

13:59 - JM has his arm around JK at the start of the shot here

Ep 10 “Spy for Silmido Island” (Ep: 2 / KM: 2)

The one where everyone eats a meal as they learn how JK has been doing secret missions the last three episodes

6:16 - JK explains that he failed his mission to get Jimin to say, “please stop.” We see flashbacks of JK trying - in addition to the above picking JM up, JK also pulled on his hair and gave him a shoulder rub (there is no explanation for why he thought that would be something JM would tell him to stop), and spraying him with a water bottle. The main jikook takeaway from this and the confession episode seems to be that JM will let JK get away with anything because he think he’s cute.

7:00 - We see that JM inadvertently made JK fail his mission to feed the camera man because, when JK held out food, JM got JK to feed him instead

Ep 11 "Back to School" (Ep: 3 / KM: 1)

The one where Suga dresses as a girl and gets hit on by the rest of the band

21:28 - Despite Jimin doing nothing but smiling in the sketch, JK says he's the day's MVP and is weirdly sincere about it

24:05 - YMMV on jeon-lous, but he does indeed do the tongue thing here when JM is flirting with girl-Yoongi

Ep 12 "Cops" (Ep: 4 / KM: 4)

The police sketch that launched ten thousand AUs...

6:46 - "Detective" Jungkook pulls "criminal" Jimin away by his collar 8:41 - After Jimin acts cute and says he's bored, JK comes over and slaps his upper thigh before throwing Jimin over his shoulder and slapping his butt. When JK puts him down, Jimin just looks at him with a dazed smile for a moment before they continue on with the sketch.

9:30 - Jimin tries to flirt his way out of of JK’s interrogation, which JK says is for “setting fire to ARMY’s hearts with his smiling eyes.”

10:25 - After a brief interuption by “Captain” Suga, the interrogation starts having flirty vibes again, with JK smirking and making eye contact while Jimin acts bashful and speaks in a whispery voice.

11:00 - JK holds a fake gun on JM as he starts his “Lie” dance, during which he directs finger hearts towards JK. The camera focuses on JM and, by the time it shows JK again, he’s lowered the gun and put his other hand over his heart. The on-screen text says “Detective Jeon’s heart is attacked.”

12:55 - JM and JK switch roles so JM is the detective. He hits JK over the head with a book. JK has basically no visible reaction, but JM has clearly flustered himself.

Note: To explain my reasoning for these originally not being here - if you look at the other skits in this ep, they are all accusing each other of doing things to ARMY’s hearts and being weirdly flirty with each other. Like, this police station has some serious sexual harassment issues all around! That said, the vibes are unique with jikook and, upon rewatch, I came to agree with y’all that the above should’ve been included. 19:30 - Alternate version of the sketch where Jimin and JK have a dance battle that ends in both of them being put in the jail cell and told to dance.

BEHIND 0:58 - Jimin flirt-ily calls out "I'm bored; play with me, Detective" (presumably to JK since they're scene partners). Note: Adults saying they "played" with each other is a common way to describe hanging out in Korean and doesn't necessarily have the sexual connotations it does in English.

4:08 - Jimin stares at JK as he does squats

Ep 13 "The Spy Who Returned Part 1" (Ep: 4 / KM: 2)

The ones where they play games at an indoor water park

1:00 - Jimin does an exaggerated running motion and JK slaps him to make him stop, which JM finds funny

1:43 - JM has his arm around JK

6:00 - JK jokingly(?) tells JM his wet hair looks cool

11:12 - JM calls JK their team's ace and they whisper about who he should call out from the other team

Ep 14 "The Spy Who Returned Part 2" (Ep: 3 / KM: 2)

16:04 - JM jokingly hits JK for getting the answer super wrong and then they go down the waterslide together. (Note: I've seen some jikook-ers claim JK messed up on purpose so the game wouldn't end and he'd get to ride with Jimin, but I'm not sure there's actual evidence to support that theory.)

The moment that led to the picture below isn’t in the ep or the BEHIND, but I raised the episode’s KM score a full point for it

Ep 15 "The Spy Who Returned Part 3" (Ep: 3 / KM: 2)

TW for this ep: 5:14 - during the confessions game, Jin tells Jimin that whenever Jimin asks if he put on weight, Jin wants to say he looks like a pig. Jimin claims to not be upset after, but looks like he's going to cry and seems off for a while. Then, at 10:45, Jin reiterates that Jimin "got fat." Everyone laughs except JK, who widens his eyes and then starts chewing on his finger.

6:37 - Despite being on the same team as JK, Jimin joins J-Hope's complaints about JK coming to their room uninvited, saying that JK often brushes his teeth in their room. He accuses JK of buying the exact same toothbrush as Jimin’s and complains that they can’t tell them a part. JK says it wasn't him and then there's a weird cut to sometime later when Jimin is sitting back down again... Just prior to this, Jimin is looking unhappy as Hobi tells a story about JK seeing him naked, but it’s hard to tell if he’s reacting to that or feeling upset about Jin’s weight comments from the previous round.

16:02 - Jimin defends Jungkook against accusations that he's the spy

BEHIND 4:30 - Jimin sits on Jungkook's lap and, when he leans over to try to get Jin to give him food, JK puts his hand on JM's hip to steady him

Ep 16 "Snowpark Winter Olympics" (Ep: 4 / KM: 1)

The one where everyone plays winter games

4:35 - When JM and JK are the finalists for the sledding round, JM thanks the viewers for their support. JK asks "what does that make me?" and yells/sings badly, which makes JM laugh. I don’t quite get it, tbh, but they seem to be enjoying themselves

14:50 - JK helps JM get his sled in place

BEHIND 3:02 - JK smiles as he gets pushed towards JM on the ice

Ep 17 "Arcade Olympics Part 1" (Ep: 2 / JK: 2)

The ones where we are reminded that playing arcade games is more fun than watching people play them

All of this and next episode, whenever they all reshuffle positions, Jimin and Jungkook end up standing next to each other. This happens pretty frequently in Run BTS generally, but it was particularly noticeable in this ep since it's not like they're on the same team or anything...

4:16 - When Jimin does a dramatic DDR finish, JK calls attention to it. JM turns to him and they lock eyes for a second

15:00 - JK cheers Jimin's name when it looks like he's going to win the basketball game

BEHIND

3:36 - JK & JM play a 4D game together Also, JK has an interesting mark on his neck on his right side that does not appear to be there in the episode itself...

Ep 18 "Arcade Olympics Part 2" (Ep: 2 / JK: 1)

3:30 - JK tries (unsuccessfully) to coach Jimin on the driving game

3:45 - JK stands up for Jimin and says he's getting the hang of the game

14:36 - JM & JK laugh together at RM's failure

19:58 - It's not super clear, but it sounds like JK calls JM "Jiminie" at the end of his sentence

Ep 19 "Strike" (Ep: 2 / JK: 1)

The one where BTS go bowling together and end up bowing down to JK

4:47 - JK shares that he and Jimin used to bowl together

---

If there’s anything I’ve missed or that anyone has different interpretations of, I’d love to hear it.

More episodes coming soon!

#jikook #kookmin #run bts #jikook guide to run bts

121 notes · View notes

bangtan-dreamland · 4 years ago

Text

in another life, you and i

Pairing: pjm x male!reader ; one-sided!kth x male!reader

Word Count: 16193

Warnings: major character death, brief descriptions of violence, mention of a massacre, terminal illness

Rating: PG15

Genre: angst, fluff (?), supernatural!au, demon!au, reincarnation!au

Summary: you are, surely, the strangest human Jimin has ever met, and he’s had two hundred years to mingle with your kind. still, a deal is a deal, and your soul is interesting, so why not?

he soon realizes there’s much, much more to the story than he knows.

A/N: written as a belated birthday fic for @sombreboy, whose fics feed my never ending thirst!! this is pretty wordy and kind of wonky, but I had a lot of fun writing this, the ending stressed me out though, I couldn’t help making it bittersweet

a big thank to you @tigertaehyunq who helped encourage and support me writing this!! I could ramble about her help but it’d take a lot of space, so I’ll just say I couldn’t have finished this without her. also, I rushed making the banner and will probably replace it later. edited a little now!!

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

The first time Jimin’s summoned in decades, it’s to a human who he cannot understand at all.

And as a demon, he’s met plenty of human beings over the course of two hundred years. He’s met humans who worshipped him, humans who feared him, humans who hated him… he’s granted all kinds of wishes as well, has made more deals than most demons, even those older than him. He has a reputation, one that he’s earned.

He doesn’t think that you’ll be different from any human that he’s met before, and that like usual, this would be a quick transaction. Boring. Repetitive. But if he doesn’t meet you, then there’s nothing else to do- even if you’re only a quick distraction, he welcomes it.

Yet, when he’s summoned by you, you manage to blow all his expectations out of the water.

Oh, as the fire that rises to the ceiling brings him over, his feet making contact with the rough floor, the markings on the ground, the offerings- there is not one bit that surprises him. Instead, he readies himself for your shock.

Humans are always ever so vocal, after all, even those who seem to be, at first glance, calm and composed. It’s a waste of energy and effort to introduce himself when they’re too busy panicking over the fact that they’ve ‘actually summoned a real demon!’. Therefore, he waits for you to get your screaming done and over with.

But as the flames make way for your visage, the face with which you greet him is not one that he’s familiar with.

Yes- In the split second that the flames die down to a simmer before disappearing, he can see the vivid surprise in your face, then replaced by fear and- grief?

However, as soon as they come do they pass, leaving him wondering why and if he only imagined it. You approach him with a mild look on your face that gives away nothing as to what you really feel inside, your tone even. Still, your slightly heavy breathing gives you away. “... You’re not the demon I aimed to summon.”

Jimin chuckles. “No, I am not. However, do not fret. I am much more powerful than whatever demon you originally intended for, I assure you.”

“... Or perhaps, you are not worried, so much as you are afraid right now?” As he takes a step forward, he has to inwardly commend your courage- even at the distance of a mere foot between the two of you, still you do not cower away from him. Rather, it seems you even have the nerve to take a step closer, as you tilt down to look at him. He feels a small surge of excitement in him- maybe this one won’t prove to be boring at all. Jimin continues his words. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Humans are ever always so afraid, after all. Especially of the supernatural.”

And then it takes him by surprise- the way that your lips shift oh so suddenly into a smile. It turns your face from a still lake in winter to the blooming fields of spring, and a stray thought in his head arises- for a human, you’re quite attractive yourself. “I’m not afraid of you at all,” you easily state. “I don’t mind if you’re not the one I was originally calling for. You’re much better than him, after all.”

At this close a distance, he can see in clear detail the way your eyes are clearly free of any fear, as you say.

How interesting.

“Wonderful,” he purrs, smiling widely, taking delight in the way you freeze for a moment, evidently charmed by him, especially when you’re so close to each other. “For humans like you, I do not mind making a deal.”

It would be best to take a step backward, the current distance between the two of you unsuitable for a serious conversation. Still, he’s never been the one to back down first. With that in mind, he simply continues on the conversation. “Now, human, for what reason have you called for me?”

You nod your head, a small smirk on your lips. “This is my last cycle,” you suddenly declare, and, what-

Before Jimin can process the words you’ve just spoken, you admitting to information that you should have no way of knowing, you are the first one to take a step back. As you do, you make a gesture to the center of your chest, and-

“As you can see.”

Jimin makes a sound of surprise in the back of his throat as his attention is demanded by your soul. As he examines it, the first thought in his mind is that- impossible.

It’s an enigma, like you. Whole, unbroken. Your soul can almost be called pure, as there’s not a single crack to be found anywhere, the orb smooth. Yet mystifyingly enough, at the same time there is a black shroud of darkness that surrounds it, the type that only souls broken beyond the point of salvation can emit. The pristine state of your soul would qualify you a place in heaven- yet at the same time, the aura of death and hatred that surrounds your soul would open a position for you as one of hell’s most powerful demons. He can’t help wondering just what exactly were you like, and if the state of your soul is the reason why you can remember your past lives.

It’s how the game of heaven and hell works, after all. Humans are given ten lifetimes, ten journeys in the mortal world, their souls starting out as pure orbs filled with the power of uncertainty and potential. And then they are born as humans- starting out with truly blank roots, no outside influence offering them good or bad luck.

Starting from the first lifetime, all decisions they make are important as it determines their next lives. The more giving and loving they are in their previous life, the more luxurious and pleasant their next lives come to be, as they are blessed with luck by the heavens. Even those that seem to start from a tragedy, it wouldn’t be too hard to survive and thrive. People would adore them, they would find themselves more attuned with the world, and ultimately whatever field they endeavored in, they would find themselves succeeding.

In turn, the more wretched and hateful a person is in his previous life, the more the heaven casts him out with luck against him. They may be born in a wealthy family- but if you wait longer, then you will find that their only choice is to fall deeper into disgrace with evil, fight fire with fire so to say- or to suffer the fall and endure pain to gain heaven’s blessings again.

Both would face harder and harder trials in each passing cycle of life- yet, for those with heaven on their side, passing such trials would not be that hard a task, and they would gain even greater benefits if they are sincere. Yet to those who are hated by the heavens, they may only turn to more evil to mitigate the luck that deems them betrayed, failed, loathed by even those that they may trust with their life.

With each passing life, a human’s soul either cracks or repairs. To those who persevere, who manage to mend their ways, who somehow are in heaven’s good grace- their souls are instantly taken to heaven the moment their tenth and final cycle ends. To those whose souls are broken and filled with hatred, well. They are disposed of, turned into demons.

Most of the time though, souls at the end of their cycles are broken down and remade into new ones. He’s never heard of any exception to the rules of the game they’re all bound by.

And as for him? Jimin is one of the few demons who became one even before his ten cycles were completed. It’s what gives him his reputation, his power.

Yes. As a demon, he’s quite familiar with the system. He’s familiar with all the types of humans in different stages, different cycles of their lives. It’s easy for him to realize, with a glance, the state of their soul. Not even their reactions faze him anymore. After all- you can only listen to one too many screams and whimpers, before they lose the thrill, before they become merely annoying. With a glance, he can tell if they are headed to the world above or the one below- yet with yours, it seems as though you belong in both.

It’s a contradiction- you’re a contradiction.

“What kind of lives did you lead before this?” He mutters, a hint of surprise evident from his voice. “I’ve never quite seen a soul like yours before. Never have I met a human who knew about the cycles before, too.”

In response, though, you only laugh quietly, dodging his question. “I’ve lived the best lives, that’s all.”

Jimin’s lips curl up into a bemused smile. “Then I suppose you really indulged yourself in the past?”

“And now the heavens punish me for it,” you agree with a smile. “But I don’t want my last life to end like this.”

With that, you suddenly gesture to the room around the two of you, bringing Jimin’s attention to your state of living.

Jimin frowns as he notices the run down walls, the naked floor, the cracked windows. That’s not even mentioning the bare feel of the room, without much furniture or personal items in any way.

“As you can see,” you explain. “I’m currently down on my last legs.”

Giving him a nonchalant shrug, you continue. “Estranged family, no friends, no money, not much possessions left… a birth defect that will deare me dead soon enough… with the state of my soul, it seems that there is no changing it in this lifetime either.”

At your last sentence, you fall quiet, but it’s not quite the quiet of despair, but rather- calm acceptance. It intrigues him. With each second that passes by in your presence, Jimin finds himself sensing layers underneath layers in your personality, little things that make you stand out from other humans he’s met before.

He hums. “Well, YN, I hope you realize it isn’t possible for me to give you the perfect life without a proper price,” he teases you with a lazy smirk, wondering if you’ll notice his lie. “Seventy five years of a human’s life, one that’s evidently been marked against by heaven too, it doesn’t seem like one that offers me much power. At most, I could give you a year.”

And yet you only shrug a little. “I figured that might be so,” you admit. “I… I think I just want a better life, in any way I can get it.”

He lets out a chuckle at your words. “If a better life is what you want, that you want to repent, I believe you’ve summoned the wrong entity,” he muses. “After all, with a soul like yours, even an angel could be persuaded into helping you.”

You scoff. “If I wanted to repent, which I don’t, I never would have summoned you.”

“I just... I just want to make the last years of my life worth living,” you clarify, voice becoming wistful. “Rather than live a lifetime like this… I’d much rather use the rest of what I have for a moment of happiness.”

“I won’t ask much from you. I don’t want to stand out too much anyway, humans can be just as troublesome as devils and angels.” You huff wryly at that, fidgeting with your hands. “I just need you to-” for the first time, you falter, a noticeable blush coloring your cheeks, but you go forth anyway, “-stay by my side.”

“At all times. I mean- to ensure I am happy and safe at all times, for at least a year, keep my disease at bay,” you add, at a point almost stammering. Still.

Jimin blinks. Looks at you. Twice. Waits for you to continue- to rescind your words, to say something. Yet you continue to stay silent, eyes not quite meeting him but peeking at him anyway, and he-

Jimin erupts into laughter, loud and long, practically falling over himself at that. “You want me to- stay with you, protect you, heal you and oversee that you are always happy, that’s your wish, human?”

You huff, making a snippy comment, "I don't believe you can heal, which is why I'm only asking you to keep the pain away," but you nod your head without a hesitation.

Jimin grins. “You really are daring, aren’t you? Aren’t you afraid to bring heaven’s wrath down on you? Asking a demon for protection and healing! For happiness- and I doubt what you’re asking is the one that you can gain from materials or other humans.”

You scoff. “I’m not afraid of heaven,” you deadpan, brows furrowing as the solemnity of your voice, coupled with the tight look on your face makes him smirk. Daring, indeed. “And- do you really believe an angel would grant this wish?”

His lips curl into a smirk. The answer to that is something that you obviously know as well. No, an angel would never.

Seemingly satisfied with his silence, taking it for compliance, you take a step back towards him.

At this close a distance, for the first time of the night, he fully takes you in. And- truly, although he doesn’t know what standard of beauty humans have at the present, even with the faint, bluish hue to the tips of your body that he now notices, Jimin thinks you’d fit any and all requirements to be considered being able to bewitch one’s soul at a glance. Not him, though, as a demon.

“So,” you murmur, a slight smile visible on your face. “Do we have a deal? Seventy five years of life, in exchange for a year of living however I want.”

“Deal,” he purrs, tilting your head down to seal your transaction. As his plush lips glide over your own, he whispers, light and teasing. “I truly hope you don’t regret it.”

With his eyes closed, Jimin fails to see the way your face flashes with an unknown emotion. “I know I won’t,” you murmur just before he fully claims your lips for a moment.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

After that starts his deal with you, and Jimin is given all the time in the world to realize- that yes, you truly are one of the weirdest humans he’s ever met, much less made a deal with.

The first evidence to that is perhaps the morning after the night of his summoning.

As a demon, he never had the need for sleep. However, after signing the contract, you’d immediately claimed to be exhausted, heading straight towards your bed. With that, he took upon it himself to first examine the state of your apartment, and to verify your past. Well, this cycle’s past, anyway.

What he finds only deepens the mystery that is you in his mind.

Twenty three years old as of today (he’s amused that you summon him, a demon, on your birthday, of all days), YN LN. Congenital birth defect. Living family, however, there’s a record of abuse towards you, particularly from your parents. Still, the charges were dropped, and the records erased. Most likely because your family is influential and rich. No friends, none that can be called upon in times of need, anyway. No lover, of course.

You also have a brief history of showing great skills, particularly academic wise. It’s baffling how you've come this low, if you remember your past lives. Luck plays a huge part in living, yes, but so does skill and it does not seem as though you are lacking in that in any way.

Not to mention, your personality. You are- brave. Or perhaps fearless is the right word. You do not panic in unknown situations, and you are clearly quite intelligent. Witty as well. Skilled, and experienced.

And yet.

You truly hold no wealth or money under your name, and you are without a job too. More than that, you live in the shady part of town, in a dilapidated apartment.

"... I can't wait to discover your secrets," Jimin cheerfully announces as he takes a seat at the table. Placed on it are food that you've cooked, and he's more than curious to try it out. Though he doesn't need to eat, he's never been one to deny himself of any pleasure, and food is no exception.

You hum in response. "Well, good luck with that. Although I'm not telling you anything."

"You will," he assuredly tells you. "It's only a matter of time."

He hears you snort, before diverting your attention back to your food. "... I hope you like it."

Jimin has high standards. Or, rather, humans have very low standards for what they see as delicious, which is understandable considering that most never leave their cities, much less their countries to sample other foods.

Still, there’s something about the hotteok you offer him that brings him comfort. He takes one bite- and a part of him is already impressed.

"It's passable," he admits, amused when he sees the way your mood suddenly seems to become happier.

For a moment, silence reigns in the room as the two of you as you eat breakfast.

A moment like this- it's rather nice. Compared to the screams and flames that fill hell with noise, the murmur of the city outside, in a time where the world still holds a small piece of quiet, Jimin finds himself relaxing a little.

Still, all too soon the food is gone and the conversation starts again.

“Truly, it astounds me, how those who heaven is frustrated with are bound to the worst lives," he finally remarks as he takes another look around at your apartment. In the light of the day, its inadequacies are only made more apparent. The wallpaper peeling off the walls, the faulty pipes that offer you poor water, rusty doors that creak noisily and the cracks in the walls and floor that are damp with water. No doubt would they leak if there is rain. “I will have you move to a more suitable lodging. This one is not fit for a human in a deal with a being like me, much less one that is fit to house a demon like me.” The distaste in his tone is pronounced.

He misses the smile on your face, hidden behind the cup of tea you’re drinking.

“I’ve made plans for you to win the lottery,” he announces.

“I refuse.” You bluntly say, before adding. “Sorry.”

Jimin frowns. “Why not,” he crosses his arms. “Would you then prefer to live in a place like this?”

“I don’t,” you deadpan. “However, winning the lottery would make people suspicious of us, and I’m pretty sure there are people who would target me for the money.”

“Are you doubting my ability to protect you?”

“I’m not. I just don’t want to deal with having to be protected in the first place.” At your words, something in your tone changes for a moment, and Jimin frowns. Sensing the sudden fall of your mood, he opts to acquiesce.

“Your family is quite well off, isn’t it? And you aren’t close to them in the slightest... I could arrange their deaths and leave you with their riches,” he offers quickly, not really meaning it- just wanting to keep your mind off whatever thoughts you found yourself in.

“For the same reason as the first, no,” you refuse. “Angels would notice, and that would be troublesome.”

“A contest?” Jimin drinks his tea while he waits for you to consider his proposal, internally pleased with your skills in cooking. It doesn’t come close to renowned chefs, but there’s something about your food that makes him feel happy, and safe. The way you’ve acted so far… the lack of fear, the familiarity… perhaps you’ve dealt with demons in your past lives? It’s certainly a possibility. “I can acknowledge your skills with food.”

You smile for a brief moment, but all the same, it’s laced with the same emotions as before. Grief and longing.

“... Thank you,” you reply after a moment, although you shake your head after. “But I don’t want the fame that comes with it. … I’ve had enough of it.”

Left over feelings from a previous cycle then. Jimin nods, finally letting out a sigh. “Well then,” he grumbles. “I suppose that leaves me no choice.”

“Human-”

“YN,” you interrupt him, gaze not particularly on him, but the tone of your voice firm. “Call me YN. Please.”

“... YN, how do you fancy a game of poker?”

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Six hours later, YN is a man richer by several hundred thousand dollars. And as Jimin feels the cold air of the night meet him as they step outside, he has to suppress the giggles building up inside him. There’s nothing quite like being in a casino, surrounded by danger and despair hidden beneath the veneer of luxury and temptation. Nothing quite like the faces revealed to them as he deceives foolish humans, especially when they believe they’re about to win- and then, just like that, the victory is taken away from them. It’s all quite hilarious, really.

“You seem quite happy,” he hears you remark. Spinning around gracefully, Jimin grins at you.

“What’s not there to be happy about?" He smoothly retorts. "I've gambled to my heart's content, and you are richer than you expected. This has been a productive evening."

He's about to tell you exactly why casinos are amazing, when he notices the man standing around the corner.

Jimin's smile falls.

Clad in simple but fashionable clothes, the handsome face and sculptured body would have been a cause for getting mobbed by humans, not just girls, but also boys.

However, he's standing alone.

He may be without his wings, but there is no mistaking the holy aura that surrounds him, evidently sensed by even humans, as none dare to approach him.

Crossing his arms, Jimin sends Taehyung a sharp look, the frown on his face all too visible. He instinctively pulls you behind him, not wanting you to get taken away by the self righteous sanctimonious angel. "Taehyung."

His name rolls off Jimin's like a curse, but it's as if Taehyung doesn't hear him, or he doesn't care.

In fact, the only assurance Jimin has that Taehyung has seen them is the way that he looks up- before freezing, the surprise all too visible as his eyes dart from you, to him. For a moment he sees something flash in his eyes- before it dies down, and like Jimin, he frowns deeply. He takes a step forward, towards you, but Jimin pulls you back as well, restoring the distance between the two of you and him.

"What are you doing with him?" Taehyung's jaw is clenched, a sure sign that he's angry, if the way his eyebrows are knitted aren't enough. "Let go of him." What more, the way he bites out his words.

“Let go of who, my human?” Jimin sneers, arm holding you close against him. A lazy smirk arises on his face as he meets Taehyung’s eyes and sees the sparks of anger inside. “You aren’t in any position to warn me away from him, angel, seeing as he called for me on his own.”

“Although it is quite intriguing for you to take so much interest in a human,” he taunts. “To go so far as having a personal meeting with him… why? Have you fallen in love?”

“YN.”

Instead of responding to Jimin's words, Taehyung turns to you, worried countenance seemingly pleading with you.

“Taehyung,” you softly reply. It makes a part of Jimin annoyed, for some reason. The first time he hears you like this- and it's for an angel. “It’s my choice.”

Still the other does not back down, and you add with a helpless sigh. “Please.”

If possible, the angel's fury grows at your words. Not to you, though, but perhaps for him. For a moment, Jimin readies himself to fight- even if he doesn't know why the angel sees you as someone close enough to personally protect, more than the view of heaven treasuring a potential asset, he's determined not to give you up. You are a mystery he wants to unravel himself, after all. And it'd be another way to oppose the angel.

Still, soon enough even that diminishes, until the angel's face is blank and seemingly uncaring.

“If you know what’s good for him and for you, you would leave,” he glowers at Jimin. And then he faces you and his face immediately softens. “I’ll try to plead with them.”

“There's no need for that,” you shake your head, a small smile on your face. “... But thank you.”

And with a nod of his head, the angel disappears, and the two of you are alone, again.

"Well," you sigh. "That was an experience."

Jimin turns to you, pinning you down (or rather, trying to) with a look. Still you remain calm under his gaze.

"An angel," he states, the question there all the same.

You only shrug at him, a playful smile on your smile as you start walking down the road. "A secret. Come on, I want to eat at a proper restaurant. Feels like it's been forever since I got to eat good food."

Jimin follows behind you dutifully, but it doesn't erase the suspicion in his heart.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

"So, YN” he starts as he watches you stroll through the aisles of clothing.

At this moment, the day after your casino outing, your first plan of action had apparently been to head to the mall and acquire new clothing. While Jimin personally thinks that there are other places, other things that you could handle first-

“Where do you think I should go then?” The sarcastic tone in your voice is loud. “The hospital? What’s the point of getting treated if, after this year, my conditions still stay the same? Maybe you’ve forgotten the state of my soul.”

“My old family? Oh, to make amends. Unfortunately I hate their guts with a passion,” you continue, making him fall silent with how suddenly the words seem to spill out of your mouth. Your face is set in a tightly neutral look, but the bitterness is easy for him to see.

“A job for after then? What’s the use? As with my condition, this cursed, rotten luck will ensure that I never truly succeed without dirtying my hands. And while I don’t mind it, it’s just too troublesome.”

“I just want to live my life the way I want to, without other people fucking butting in for once.”

There’s an intense look in your eyes then. There’s a history behind that sentence that Jimin can easily see. It can’t be from this life, so it definitely must be from your previous ones. Still, for once, he can’t help but wonder just what exactly it was like, for you to react like that.

“The mall it is, then,” Jimin hums with an easy smile, pressing his body closer to you. Since that little moment when he was first summoned, he’s noticed that he has quite the amusing effect on you whenever he goes near- your cheeks reddening, body stiffening for a moment, eyes darting away- it’s clear that on some level, even though you try to hide it, you find him attractive. Which really isn’t a surprise.

Even now, he sees you bite the inside of your cheek, angry look easing down.

And that was that.

“What is your requirement for,” he pauses, mulling the word over in his head, “‘happiness’? Is there anything in particular that you want? … I doubt you’d be one to wish for the typical.”

You pause from your steps, looking up from the rack of clothes.

The answering smirk that he spots on your face only confirms his words. “Well, I was hoping you’d answer that question,” the hint of cheer in your tone makes him look at you with even more surprise.

“... Me?” Jimin repeats. Your smile grows and you turn back to the matter at hand. In your hands.

“Give me a year of fun that can rival even more than my past lives,” you challenge him brazenly, although your attention is seemingly only on the clothes that you’ve picked. With a scowl, Jimin stalks over to you.

“And you believe I can provide you with that?” He dodges your challenge, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m curious as to what a demon enjoys,” you nonchalantly say. “Aside from casinos, that is.”

Jimin suddenly has the urge to sigh, his face falling at once, but it seems you pick up on it.

“I mean… aren’t you a demon?” you grin at him unabashedly. “Are you seriously telling me, that in all the years you’ve been a demon, you’re still surprisingly-”

He has a bad feeling about this.

“-pure?” You chortle at that word, and Jimin bristles.

“I’m not,” he instantly denies, lips pushing up. “It’s only that your wish was for me to protect you and keep you happy, however, why should that mean that I become your… your…" He pouts even harder, "... your helper?"

“Because that was our deal,” you say simply, before throwing him a look, a hint of mischief in your expression. “But there’s no shame if you can't do it. After all, it's not usually what a demon is summoned for, is it?"

Jimin crosses his arms.

"And if I choose a dangerous place? If none of what I choose brings you any enjoyment?"

"Well, if I remember, part of the deal was for you to protect me. And it’s alright, we’ve got a whole year to play around with!" With that said, you finally turn back to look at him with a pleasant smile, holding up a jacket to your frame. “How about it? Do I look good?”

“Put down that clothing for one moment,” he bites out, annoyed. “And listen to me?”

“Don’t want to,” you blithely reply. “Besides, I’ve already made the decision. You can’t make me change my mind.”

There’s an obstinacy that your stance conveys all too well, and goddamn you’re such a brat. When you refuse to look back at him, he grabs your arm, pulling your body to finally face in his direction. When you still keep your gaze locked away from him, he uses his other hand to tilt your head up firmly but gently.

In this distance of less than a foot, he looks you in the eye and asserts himself.

“I am not a toy, nor am I your butler,” he tells you slowly, but with a weight in his words. “I am a demon. If you know that, then you should know not to treat me like we’re anything like friends, as I assure you, it is only a mistake. And one that will cost you your life.”

You bare your teeth at him, eyes suddenly clear of any emotion. “And so?” You demand, pulling him closer in turn, a strange pressure present in your tone. It makes him tremble, an unknown emotion building up inside him. Annoying, frustrating, maddening. You’re the strangest human he’s ever met. “You say that like you believe that will somehow change anything.”

It’s not fair. Why do you have this effect on him?

He opens his mouth to speak-

But then he catches your expression change slightly. There is a brief flash of pain on your face, and the heavier breathing alerting him to your condition. Barely does a second pass before your legs tremble and Jimin spurs into action.

Jimin immediately maneuvers you to fall into his arms as your legs give way, leaving you to collapse on him, your chest falling and rising with increasing tempo.

“Someone dares to harm my charge,” he swears under his breath, immediately spreading out his power to sweep through the nearby areas, but to no avail. There are only humans around, ignorant humans, so-?

“It-” you shudder as you struggle to breathe, your voice coming out as a croak. “Heart-”

-of course. Your congenital birth defect.

He places one hand against your body, the magic in his veins directing, telling him that your disease is acting up again. Although a little awkward, he directs his magic through the nerves in your body, cutting off the pain and easing up the exhaustion of your body. Jimin isn’t an expert in the workings of the human body, but he at least knows enough to figure out how to temporarily ease and solve the problem at hand.

When he feels your breathing slow down, body relaxing, melting to his own- only then does Jimin allow himself to finally stop worrying.

“Don’t you humans have more regard for your life? Isn’t it human instinct to want to survive, or is your brain just that broken?” He hisses, glaring at you when you purse your lips, the very picture of stubbornness.

Still, when you speak, he’s forced to listen.

“... The moment I summoned you,” you say quietly as you press yourself closer to him. If anyone were to see the two of you now, they’d assume you were lovers embracing each other, the fleeting thought races into his mind. “I knew what I was getting into. I place my life in your hands. I trust your hands to take care of it.”

“After all,” you continue. “what else is there to live for?”

“Besides, it’s only for a year. After that, you’re free to do whatever you want with my soul.” And then do you smoothly pull away from him, earlier weakness gone, the clothes you’d been trying on in one hand as you make your way to the counter. “Choose something you like. We have the money for it anyway.”

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

After that starts what might be Jimin’s craziest deal yet. Fully committed to live your remaining year of life your way, you have no qualms about using the contract to make him submit and follow your tems.

What’s even more infuriating is the way you do it. Sure, he could easily get mad, as a demon there is pride in his bones that cannot be easily handled, but you somehow manage to avoid that. When you talk to him, your tone is always light and playful, teasing, ever so confident. You don’t bow to him, like some of the humans he’d met who knew him and his power, but neither do you assume yourself to be the better of him, ignorant and drunk on power. For a lack of a better word, even after everything he’s done to you, you treat him as an equal.

“I feel exhausted.”

“I don’t want to hear that from you, considering I was the one who carried all our luggage.”

After that event at the mall, the two of you decided on a plan.

A year’s worth of time, several hundred thousand dollars and absolutely no responsibility left to hold you down anywhere. Jimin didn’t know where to start, who the fuck would ask a demon to guide them? No one in their right mind would.

Except you, that is. Infuriating you.

“It’s not my fault I’m not as strong as you,” you dramatically sigh as you flop on the bed.

Jimin snaps the lock on the suitcase a little harder than he intends.

Still, when he’d been practically browbeaten into accepting your deals, you’d offered him a piece of advice.

“I’m alright with anything you want to do. … Isn’t there something you wished you could do here? I don’t imagine a demon can spend so much time aboveground, the same way angels don’t linger here.”

So here the two of you were, on a trip around the world.

“Maybe not,” he mutters under his breath, “but getting here would have been done much faster if it weren’t for you almost fainting in the middle of the damn street.”

“I didn’t think it was that serious,” is your blithe reply.

Starting from Japan, to Philippines, to a week in a country of your choosing, sometimes more, sometimes less, the two of you have gone in several different countries, trying out food, experiencing the vividly different cultures, learning about famous landmarks and basically touring around. All things that Jimin (if only to himself) admits that he enjoys, especially with your company.

Choosing this particular plan is perhaps a mix of his own desires and an assumption. Almost every human had the desire to travel the world, didn’t they? Even you, with your past lives, would have to enjoy it.

He just didn’t expect how much he himself would have fun as well.

“You,” he sighs, “are completely hopeless.”

“But you’re still here with me, aren’t you?”

Perhaps that’s why three months later, as the two of you are checking in into your hotel rooms, he finds himself… being more gentle (not fussing, not, he would never fuss or truly worry about you, he’s a demon for fuck’s sake) with you, especially after you’ve just experienced another one of your episodes.

Three months with you, and Jimin’s become accustomed with you being… well, you.

When you mention something clearly ridiculous (who asks a demon to dye his hair? Just because you are doesn’t mean he should, and why would he know how to?), to doing something ridiculous (he didn’t really need that stuffed toy. Really), to just about almost collapsing from overexerting your body in your excitement (the most annoying thing about it perhaps may be the fact that you don’t even seem to care that you’re in pain, just that you can’t move as your body refuses to listen to you), he slowly becomes used to handling you. Reading you, learning to take care of you.

He doesn’t understand it himself, even as he slowly recognizes that maybe, just maybe, he’s started caring for you more than he should. More than he wanted to, far more than he ever thought he would.

He accepted the deal because you were a mystery he wanted to unravel, but as each day passes, he finds your existence to be more than enough reason for him to stay.

“I keep telling you to take better care of yourself,” he scolds you as you lie down on the bed, eagle-spread. Still you remain completely at ease, complacent look on your face and body relaxed. If not for the way that you eye him with amusement, Jimin would assume you’re not listening to him at all. As it is, he fixes you with a glare. “I’m not all-encompassing, you know. All I can do is take the pain away and temporarily fix your body’s failure.”

“That’s more than enough for me,” you cheerfully exclaim. Jimin aggressively unpacks the clothes in the dresser in response, grumbling under his breath. No matter how much he practically insults you into taking care of yourself, you always shrug off his words.

“What kind of human are you? Don’t you want to live?”

“Of course I want to live,” you immediately reply, before yawning. “But I don’t want to live it in a hospital.”

“Anyway, this current life is good enough for me. As long as I’m happy, I don’t care what happens to my body,” you quietly laugh, as if there is a joke hidden somewhere in your words that Jimin has failed to see. “Now, won’t you kiss the pain away?”

He sighs even as he looks over you, scanning you for any signs that your disease has flared up again. You wink at him in turn and he snaps his head around, annoyed at you. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Says the one who took me to Disney World. A demon taking a human to Disney World, can you think of anything more ridiculous than that?”

The clothes in his hand almost slip from him as he splutters. Red flashes in his cheeks as he whirls around to glare (read: pout) at you. “You had fun! … Didn’t you?”

“Of course I did,” you agree with a small smile. “I’m pretty sure I had the most fun there, even if you were the one screaming your head off while we rode the rollercoaster.” Jimin’s face reddens even more at the reminder, while you chuckle at his reaction. “Though you lost all your dignity for a moment.”

“If you can make jokes like that, then I know you’re feeling alright already,” he glowers. “Go on and get some rest.”

“Yes sir,” you mock salute him, before shutting your eyes and falling asleep just like that. Jimin sighs, and then pulls up the sheets to your chin.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

“Why does he like to visit you so fucking much?” He asks, maybe a little more aggressively than he likes. Still, it’s very much justified in his opinion. Taehyung stops by way too often, dropping by at least once a week, if not even more. It aggravates him to no end, to see the angel dare to get close to what Jimin has marked as his. “Does he not have anything else to do, or is heaven really that idle?”

His irritation only deepens as your lips quirk up in amusement.

“He’s just checking up on me.”

“What he is is being a nuisance and an overall pest. The urge to swat him down like the fly that he is rises up every time he appears.”

He hears you snort with laughter beside him.

“Pfft! Geez, alright. Instead of thinking about that, why don’t you look over this with me?”

He feels you lean on his shoulder, the phone’s screen showing your possible next destination.

“As long as that fly doesn’t dare to appear, I’m fine with wherever.”

“So you don’t mind missing out on the music festival in England for some other place then-?”

“I never said that,” he glares at you, pout on full display, ignoring your snickers. “Give me that phone.”

“Yes, yes, here you go.”

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

It takes him five months- almost half of the time he’s dedicated to your deal- before he asks you about the question he’s always wanted to know the answer to, the curiosity backed up by the fact that you probably will answer him. Hopefully.

Five months, and with every little thing he manages to glean about you, there comes another question to replace it. The skills he can easily guess to be remnants of your past lives, far off gazes reminiscing old memories, the unbothered attitude the accumulation of lives lived and lost.

Not to mention the way you always seem so... sad. Yes, perhaps that’s the best way to describe it. You hide it well, but even as you smile, you always seem to be one step saying goodbye. It doesn’t make sense, considering it was your choice to traded away your remaining years. Not to mention, you’ve let it slip that no one from your past lives are still living in the present.

Although.

It’s not as if he cares, not really- besides the fact that you always keep him on his toes, surprising him at ever moment, you’re just like any other human. Actually, you’re even less than that, considering your living conditions.

But time is running out, and if he lets you slip away without even trying, out of fear, then it wouldn’t be like him, now would it? And that won’t do at all.

At this moment, the two of you are sitting on the roof of the cabin you’ve rented out in Swedish Lapland. Something that you both came here to accomplish was seeing an aurora borealis, and as you’re both clad in warm layers of fur, hot chocolate in your flasks as snow surrounds you below and around you and the brilliant flashes of light above you- he can’t help but let his thoughts wander.

For once Jimin decides to take a step past the line he’s tried to define against you.

“What were your past lives like?” The question slips from him before he can take it back, and he sees you tense up, though you soon cover it up with a befuddled look.

“Hm?”

“You know what I mean,” he pushes. “Even us demons barely remember our human lives, much less a human like you who remembers their past cycles.”

A flash of heat decorates his cheeks as he sees the light in your eyes fade a little. “.. I was merely curious. It’s alright if you don’t want to-”

“I was the village healer in my first life,” you simply state. Jimin freezes, shocked that you would even reply.

Still, when he sees you turn to him, the look on your face clearly asking him to respond, he clears his throat.

“A healer huh…” he trails off, the image of you in his head becoming clear. “Somehow, I can easily see you as one. … Although it’s a little ironic, considering your current state.”

“Yeah,” you quietly chuckle. “It was one of my favorites. I had a loving family, and many friends. We had enough to live by ourselves, and the place where we lived was peaceful and beautiful.“

“Our village was situated on the mountainside- we were surrounded by this huge forest, and the blue sea below. My daily life started with tending to my patients first, and then to my garden. After that, I’d go into the forest to scavenge wild herbs, and I’d always take the time to appreciate the beautiful scenery. When I got back, I’d start making medicine, and then I’d continue taking care of any patients that came through the door.”

“Sounds like an idyllic life,” Jimin remarks, before adding, “If it were me, I wouldn’t have been able to stand that.”

“I wouldn’t begrudge you for missing that sort of life. It’s much more simple and easier than the life humans lead nowadays.”

You laugh, the sound full of melancholy even as there is nostalgia in it. “Right? You have the same way of thinking as- as him,” you pause, before your tone changes to a softer, gentler one, full of unspoken feelings. “My best friend. Kindest, most cheerful and helpful angel of our village. He was the son of our chief, but that wasn’t the reason why everyone loved him. We all adored him because he was the brightest part of our lives.”

“You sound overly fond of him.”

“I am.” The way you phrase your words doesn’t escape him as you look him in the eyes. You pause for a moment, before almost whispering the words, though he still hears them. “I will always love him.”

“... Do you?” For some reason, Jimin’s chest feels tight. It’s impossible for it to be like that. His body doesn’t function the same way that a human does, after all, no matter how much it may seem otherwise. Still, the way it suddenly feels as though the breath in him is slowly being stolen away, pain filling in the space left- he hates it. “How did it go, then?”

“How did what go?” You ask him, bemused. He sighs irritably and repeats his question, mixed emotions unknowingly present in his tone.

“You said you love him, so… did you, with him...?”

For a moment, you stare at him in surprise-

- and then you burst into laughter, long and hard. “Pfft! No, we didn’t,” you clarify as you giggle. “I’m sure I don’t have to point it out explicitly, but he was the son of the village chief, and I was just the healer. Besides, we were both men. No one would have approved of it, and it’s not like we could just shrug off the village and run away together.”

You smile widely, brighter than he’s ever seen you smile before, but Jimin is not blind to the lingering pain inside. “He got married to someone else.”

“... He did? But I remember you saying you were the closest one to him. If he knew-”

“-I never told him,” you shrug, a hollow chuckle slipping out. “It wouldn’t have done anything anyway, except make him miserable.”

It should make him happy. Thinking about this ‘best friend’ of yours who you’re still in love with makes him unnaturally angry, and to know that you have feelings left for a ghost even more.

Yet in the face of your heartbreak, as much as you try to hide it, Jimin feels sympathy for you instead. He clears his throat, breaking the silence.

“So you spent your life alone, then. While the guy you loved was with someone else?” He shakes his head. “I’m surprised, and yet I’m not.” Only half a year spent with you, and yet he can tell it’s something you would do. “Tell me about your next lives then.”

You smile a little then, recognizing the out he’s giving you. After a brief period of contemplation, you start speaking again.

You tell Jimin vaguely about your previous lives, the previous cycles you’ve gone through. You tell him about the city in your second life, the wandering merchant family you’d been born to and how you were pulled into the trade. You dipping into secret deals, backstabbing and a little manipulation to protect your family from malicious people. Your third life, where you are from a family of low nobles, and your forage into politics to find out who’s your allies and who’s your enemies. All the way up to your eight life, you talk, and talk, and talk, filling up the silence of the night with tales of lives lived so long ago, details lost to history and moments uncaptured but remembered.

Even as a demon, as old as Jimin may be to the humans, he’s barely as old as you are, if one were to take your first life as your moment of birth. He’s only heard snippets and rumours of dynasties and eras so far down history, nothing can be proven a hundred percent true. Yet in your words, you manage to vividly paint a picture, a window into a world he’s never seen before.

In your eighth life, you tell him about the powerful family you’re born into. About the way your family held you tight, how politics ran deeply and tightly around the city, the powerful dictating the lives of those without, and how you carved a place for yourself into history despite the obstacles in your way.

About the prince you grew up with, the emperor you eventually strived to serve faithfully.

That’s something that he’s noticed is a commonality with every lifetime of yours. There is always the presence of this other person. Some lifetimes, they are your childhood friend and others they come late into your life. Their personality often varies, and so do your relationship, but several things always remain the same.

You and them are partners in some sense of the word.

They are in a position of power higher than yours.

You are close to them, devoted to them, perhaps even in love with them, although it never leads to anything tangible in the end.

“That sounds like a tedious life,” he quietly comments as you tell him about the banquet you’d been forced to attend, the beautiful but dry and cold food. “It doesn’t seem like one you’d like, but let me guess, this lifetime around he was the emperor, wasn’t he?”

To your point, you don’t ask him what he’s talking about. A bitter smile alights on your lips instead as you consider his question.

You huff. “Yeah. It’s kinda obvious, isn’t it? He was the emperor’s son in that lifetime,” you admit. “I helped him battle his siblings and gain the throne.”

“But if you’re wondering... as I’m sure you know, relationships between the emperor and the officials are forbidden.” You look away from him then, eyes going back up to the northern lights above, though neither of you have been paying attention to it since the conversation started. “I was already pretty controversial in that time.”

He raises an eyebrow. “How?”

“Secret~” you smirk. He frowns at you, rolling his eyes- and you giggle.

“... I can’t understand how your soul became like that,” he grumbles. “How the hell do you have a soul that’s both pure and not? More than that, how is it that you happen to be reborn together and in almost the same circumstance in every life? It’s as though you’re tied together.”

You laugh, although it’s tinged with sadness. “... if I ever find out how, maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

He only rolls his eyes. “You will.”

The resounding laughter he hears from you makes it worth it. Still...

“Where is he in this lifetime, then?” He finally asks. Surely, if this person who you’ve met and waited for in every cycle has been part of your life without fail, then, surely, he has to have appeared in this one as well, right?

Although he thinks they don’t deserve you, but they obviously make you happy, and… you’re just about the only human Jimin thinks deserves that word the most. Happiness. He hasn’t seen you truly happy even just once, and it’s not as if he cares, no. But you made the deal with him to enjoy your last life, didn’t you?

You fall silent at his question, lips struggling to hold the smile on your face. When it doesn’t work, you take a deep breath, and then turn to him. “... Who knows? If he’s out there, alive… I just hope he’s happy.”

Jimin hisses at that.

“Asshole,” he furiously mutters. “After everything you sacrificed for him, you should get to have your own happiness too. If I ever see him, I’ll-”

You interrupt his angry tirade with laughter, warm and isn’t it funny how that single action seems to be more effective at keeping the cold away than the drink in his hands?

“Being with him was what already made me happy,” you smile. “But thank you.”

He pouts, wracking his mind for words to not only keep your smile afloat but to show you how worthless the person you’ve endured heartache for is. “... I wouldn’t leave you to suffer alone.”

“I know,” you coo at him, smile becoming a smirk.

“Because of our deal,” he hurriedly clarifies, the tips of his ears burning red as you lean on his shoulder. Jimin feels his body stiffen as the weight of your head on his side registers. He doesn’t want to push you away- but damn it if this isn’t something he’s ever done, and is familiar with before.

Your fingers intertwine with his, bringing with them affection and comfort, and he finally calms down with a huff. “... I-I made a deal with you, after all.”

“Yeah, I know,” you repeat, obviously struggling to hold back your laughter. “Thank you.”

“... As long as you know.”

That night ends with the two of you spending far more time than you should out in the cold, no matter that it’s the rooftop of your cabin. The aurora lights last all night long, the beautiful glows of colors dissipating and blending into the rosy colors of the morning sky, a beautiful sight that even Jimin has to appreciate as he sees it from the bedroom’s window.

If only you would wake up from your slumber, you could see it too. Still, he isn’t too keen on waking you up in any way, much less shoving your body away from him.

… Even if your body is a little too cold than he likes.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

It’s in his seventh month of being with you that he slowly realizes something. As the cherry blossoms die, autumn leaves falling and snow coating the world in white, he realizes that maybe, just maybe, he’s let you come a little too close, a little too familiar with this heart.

At first he looked forward to knowing your secrets, but it’s infuriating to realize that even as much as he gets to know about you, it’s surprisingly not enough. He wants more. It never feels enough- whether it be your secrets, your attention, or maybe just you.

Not to mention he’s never had reason to stay so long as he has in the human realm, and not so close to anyone, moreso his human. Perhaps that’s part of the reason why it takes him so long to realize.

The way that it dawns on him too is frustrating- the thought instantly settling in his mind when he sees you flash one of your rare smiles at him. Mid-afternoon, as you stir the tea in your hand, the sunlight almost seeming to cover you with an ethereal glow as you sit with your back against the window.

For once, you’re the one filling the silence, chuckling over incidents that happened as the two of you went to see the parade earlier that day. The memory of you watching the performers decked beautifully in white facepaint, skull masks and roses, and elaborate clothing, with an awed look on your face… the thought of it makes him smile unconsciously and you catch it.

“Are you smiling?” You raise an eyebrow at him, bemused. “I didn’t know you liked the parade that much, you wanted to join.”

Red flares up in his cheeks when your words sink in. “What. I- I wasn’t smiling! I was just- thinking.”

You give him a skeptical look, eyes travelling from feet to head, before you hide a very visible smirk behind your cup of tea. “Huh. Must’ve been a wonderful thought, if it made you smile so easily like that,” you tease him. “... It’s nice seeing you smile more often these days.”

Do I? He wonders. You’re all that fills his head these days, from your ridiculous antics and decisions, the unfathomable way of thinking you have, the way you so easily see him and read him. Does he really smile that much, when you’re the only thing he thinks about so much?

Do the thoughts of you really make him happy, enough to the point that he’s always smiling?

You offer him a warm grin. “I’m glad. I worried I was the only one enjoying this deal, after all.”

… He’s fucked.

After that, it takes a miracle (heh) to act the same as before, to pretend that nothing is going on. After all, it’s not as if he can confess his love for you, can he? He isn’t even sure if it’s love that he feels- can demons even feel that emotion?

But the truth is, now that he’s aware of just how much exactly you mean to him, it’s hard not that smile a little too much when you get the pleased look in your eyes, to keep the laughter at bay when you make a mistake and pout just the tiniest little bit, sulking, to generally just not let you catch on that everything you do is making him feel like holding you close as much and as long as his heart demands.

He can’t. He shouldn’t. He wants you, and he’s never had a problem with taking what he’s set his sights on before. But you aren’t like anything else he’s collected. You aren’t a toy he wants to play around with, nor are you a rare item he wants to keep locked up. You’re someone he treasures, and while he has no doubt he’s charming and powerful, that on some level, you’re attracted to him, that’s not enough to make you choose him.

At least, not enough for you to pick him over them.

Not if you chased them across literal lifetimes, if you’ve spent lifetimes dedicated to them.

Even now, when he approaches the subject, he can feel you distance yourself from him. He’s torn.

Jimin watches you, a smile of his own appearing.

I don’t want to push it and push him away for good.

But.

I really want to get past this wall.

… It’s fine though. There’s still time. There’s still time to make you change your mind, to love him too. He’ll make sure of it. After all, whoever he is is long gone, and Jimin is the one in front of you and beside you at all times. Something is bound to change.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

“You’re much more agreeable these days.”

Walking side by side, he thinks that it would be more than easy to reach across and hold your hand in his. Instead, he raises an eyebrow at you and pushes those thoughts out of his mind.“And? You aren’t complaining, are you?”

You chuckle. He averts his gaze, feeling a little blinded. “No, not really. Just an observation. Does this mean you won’t mind the festival tomorrow? It’ll be messy, after all. And not in the way you like.”

He grumbles. “... I suppose so. It’s not like I have a choice, anyway, so why not?”

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

The days pass, and the cold becomes unbearable. It burrows under his skin, surrounding his body that not even human clothes can keep away. Especially at night, when the temperature is at its lowest, does he find himself shivering. Although admittedly, it’s much better than how it was months ago, now that the seasons are shifting into spring, it’s still bad for his health.

At least that’s what he tells you, any extension himself, as you continue to share one bed. You are his responsibility, but in the line of thinking Jimin is someone under your care too, as you are both partners. Therefore, it only makes sense for you to share warmth with him by cuddling (read: spooning, you’d been the one to bring it up after a very embarrassed Jimin almost stomped off, although you never mentioned the implications wrapped around it) with you.

In your arms, your scent surrounds him, legs thrown over his own, your hair soft on his cheek. Moments like this are hard to come by, but that just makes him savor every one of them even more.

Under the darkness of the room, minutes after you’ve agreed to turn off the lights and go to sleep, he finds himself whispering, wondering if you’ll reply.

“Aren’t you scared to die? … Is it really that terrible, to be confined in a hospital?”

Your response is short, tone even, but the way you tighten your hold on him says everything.“I’m more scared to not have lived.”

“And honestly… I can’t stand the somber atmosphere in hospitals. I never have, and I never will.”

Months ago, he wouldn’t even have entertained sharing a bed with a human, much less cuddle with one. But these days, Jimin finds he can’t ever sleep without the uneven beat of your heart lulling him to sleep.

He’s become spoiled with your presence.

“I’ll give you the best two months of your life,” he mumbles before correcting himself. “... Lifetimes.”

“Really now,” you hum, a yawn escaping you near the end, “I’m looking forward to it then.”

“Don’t give me those perfunctory words,” he gripes. “I mean it.”

“I know,” you adjust your position, just so that Jimin is pulled close, close, closer to you. WHe can hear the faint beating of your heart even louder, the miniscule warmth of your body a familiar blanket over his own. “... I’m just really tired right now. Can we go to sleep?”

Jimin finally yawns too, feeling exhaustion wash over him as you accept his declaration. “... Alright, fine. Good night, YN.”

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

But everything good has to come to an end. It isn’t an opinion, but rather a fact, and Jimin is only reminded of this just as the seasons start to shift back to spring, the year coming to its last month.

The way it happens is not even anything gradual, or perhaps it is, but he’s long chosen to ignore it. Because he’s been able to handle it so far, so it should be okay, right? If it’s for you, he’s willing to dole out his magic freely for your sake, so, you’d be alright no matter what, right?

But the way you suddenly collapse on the sidewalk tells him otherwise.

There’s barely a few seconds of warning, maybe one or two. Jimin can’t really tell. All he can remember is how you were walking side by side under the warm weather, enjoying the sun him telling you to take a break at the next cafe over, your laughter ringing out-

-before you fall over, just like that, your legs and arms painfully stiff, you almost crashing onto the asphalt if it weren’t for him catching you in his arms.

“J-Jimin,” you instantly choke out his name, the blue tint of your skin becoming stronger as the words fail to leave you, leaving you gasping and clutching your chest. He isn’t as worried at first, thinking that he only has to fix your failing heart again, but-

No. Your blood won’t move. It won’t close.

He tries again, his hand clutching you tighter this time as if to respond to the panic slowly rising up inside of him, but- still. It’s as if your body is rejecting him, the magic being blocked out, unable to enter you-

“No-”

-and he can only uselessly hold you in his arms, you getting closer to dying with every moment that he wastes-

“No, no, n-no-” he stammers.“YN, hang in there-”

Again and again, he keeps trying, trying to push your body to do something, but no, nothing.

From thereon, it’s a blur. He remembers that he can call the hospital, and scrambling for his phone, he immediately punches the numbers in, though his hands shake with every passing second.

“9-911, help, please-” he chokes out, “please help, m-my YN, he’s- he’s-”

“Sir, can you please give us your location?” The voice that answers him is quick, urgent, but focused, and how can they be focused when you’re bent over, convulsing in pain-?

“I-I can’t-” he stammers, the address muddled in his head. Though he then looks around, searching for landmarks to give the other person. “W-We’re in front of the entrance to the Keukenhof Gardens.“

He fails to hear what they say, the only words standing out in his head that they’re coming.

It should amaze him, later on, how at this moment all the panic seems to melt away and not, leaving him shaking but able to speak better, clearer. It’s as if the emotions have dulled away, leaving him pounding but still going on.

“YN,” he tells you, voice wrapped up in emotions that not even he can tell is what. “Hold on, the medics are coming- just-”

“Jimin,” you whimper, trembling. He can see your skin turn even bluer with every passing second, a warning that your heart is pumping yet your lungs are failing. You’re clearly in pain, but- despite that, your whole focus is on him. “... I couldn’t- I can’t see you- I t-thought you left me again.”

An ugly sob tears its way out his chest then. It feels as if his eyes are burning with tears, blurring his vision, but he’s resolved not to let you go.

“D-Don’t worry about that. I’m right h-here sweetheart,” he reassures with a shaky voice. “Didn’t I say I’d n-never leave you? Just focus on my voice-”

Whatever words he speaks next, you never hear as you fall unconscious. Jimin catches you in his arms, and promises to not let you go.

He doesn’t register the sound of the ambulance arriving, the medics pulling you away from him, him using his power to convince them to let him go with you. The ambulance’s siren doesn’t sink into him, and neither do the busy personnel connecting you to various machines and leading you away into the emergency room, him stuck outside as they tell him to wait. He wants to go inside, to see you, but- they tell him that they can’t work with him in there. So he lets him be sat down on the bench outside by the nurse, eyes drifting into space as he stares at the doors.

All that remains on loop in his mind is the moment you look at him with tears dripping down your face, the terror reflected back in his eyes as you whispered that you thought he’d left again.

The tears fall even faster.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

When they allow him to come in, hours and hours and what feels like an eternity later, the sight of feathers and a(n unfortunately) familiar face barely surprises him. After all, it was made clear to him during your earliest days with you that the angel has a soft spot for you, though how much is still a mystery.

“Taehyung,” he says quietly. “what are you doing here?”

“What do you think?” Taehyung stands by your bed, lips pursed and entire countenance stony as he regards Jimin. You continue to slumber, unaware of the conversation taking place before you. “I should be the one asking you that question. Then again, I guess I can’t be too surprised. You really are dedicated to your job, aren’t you?” He doesn’t laugh, only tightening his grip. “I’d say I hope you’re happy with what you’ve done to him, what you will do to him, but we both already know that’s a lie.”

Jimin bristles. “You say that like I intended for this to happen. … I care about YN.”

At his answer, Taehyung only seems to grow even more furious, the tick in his jaw appearing as his glare becomes murderous.

“If you really cared for him,” he doesn’t outright yell, no, but Taehyung’s voice is low, trembling with anger, the type that takes every part of yourself to hold back. His hands are drawn into fists and Jimin doesn’t doubt that if you weren’t asleep, he wouldn’t even talk, he’d use his fists instead. “You wouldn’t have stayed near him at all, much less let it come to this point!”

“If you cared about him, you would have let him move on!”

“I-” Jimin should be angry, and he is, but there’s something about Taehyung’s words, something about the grief in his face that forces him to take a step back. “W-What do you mean…?”

“... this was supposed to be his last chance,” Taehyung whispers. Looking down at your sleeping face, Jimin sees the way his face crumbles with bitterness. “If he could just move on from you and start anew, he could have been given a chance to be an angel instead. Now, it doesn’t even matter if you and him aren’t like before, that he hasn’t done anything to harm others at all, they aren’t letting him go-”

Jimin’s whole body stills as he stares at Taehyung.

“... Like before?”

Taehyung’s face darkens- and then he snaps.

“How daft can you be?! Have you never wondered just why, out of so many demons, you’re the one he summoned? 75 years of a human life, even on their last cycles, that’s more than enough for a lifetime of wealth and riches!” Taehyung’s voice becomes increasingly loud, anger and blame visible in his eyes, before they shift to bitterness. “But no, he just wanted you. You, who’s always been the reason why he got screwed over in all of his previous lifetimes!”

“I…”

“And now he’s dying, his tenth life and he can’t enter heaven or hell, neither can his soul be broken and made anew,” he spat out bitterly. “Don’t preach to me about how his current state is our fault, because if you’d never tempted him in the first place he wouldn’t even be born into this wretched state!”

After saying his piece, it’s as if a string controlling Taehyung has been cut, as his whole body sags. Once more does he show grief in his face, tears falling and him brushing them away.

And Jimin?

He doesn’t know what to say, how to react.

Thinking back on it, perhaps the clues had been there all along, and it was just him who refused to see it for what it was. The whole mystery, presented to him, while still missing important pieces had already given him the most important information.

All along, it’d been Jimin who YN searched for in every life, who you’ve been devoted to, may be in love with, and-

And him who’s ruined you in turn, whether it be your previous lives or this one.

The revelation makes him fall, crushing the breath in his lungs. It feels like he’s falling, deep, hard, with no way out and goddamn it why would you still want him after everything?

“... no.”

It’s your words that halt them in their tracks. Surprised, they see you awake.

“YN!”

They both exclaim your name in surprise. You smile weakly at them in turn, and the way you struggle to breathe a little doesn’t escape them.

“Thank you, Taehyung, for trying to protect me,” you start, before your smile turns sad. “But I think you forget I’ve always had the choice to leave Jimin. If I ever wanted to, if it ever got too hard for me, I could have left. But I didn’t. And I never will.”

You close your eyes. “A life without him isn’t a life worth living at all.”

Taehyung’s laugh is broken as your words sink in. “Is it worth it even if it costs you everything?”

“You know my answer will always be yes.”

It’s kind of funny. Jimin has always known you would die. Not just mentioning how you’re human, the fact that you refused to get treatment for your condition means death was only ever a few steps behind you.

But even so, now that the moment is creeping closer, it still hits him hard, anyways.

Perhaps the worst thing yet is the calm smile on your face, reminiscent of the first time Jimin’s met you. You aren’t angry, aren’t defiant, aren’t trying to fight against this in any way at all- you’re just accepting what’s to come and it breaks both of their hearts.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

After that, Taehyung leaves, though not before he has a private talk with you. When he leaves your room, Jimin sees the trail of tears remaining on his face before he disappears.

Coming in, it all feels like a dream.

It was only a day ago that the two of you had been planning to take a stroll together and admire the garden boasted to be the ‘most beautiful spring garden in the world’.

Now the only thing that reminds him of spring inside is the flowers on the vase by your bedside (probably placed there by Taehyung, his mind tells him). You’re admiring them with a small smile (fake, his mind oh so helpfully tells him), though the way you’re determinedly not meeting his gaze, hands clutching the blanket tightly tells him otherwise.

Silence reigns in the room like so many times before, but this time, neither of you are breaking it. He can only stare at you, the questions in his mind screaming at each other to make themselves known, but as he sees the vulnerable stance you’re holding, your body curled up just enough that you could hide in on yourself, he hesitates.

He can’t.

It’s with that that Jimin turns around, intending to leave, but-

Only then do you finally speak. Your voice is almost a whisper, but he hears it loud and clear. “Don’t leave,” you beg him. “Please.” The way your voice cracks at the end with unshed tears echoes in the room.

Jimin stops. A moment passes- and then he turns around again, sighing as he seats himself beside you. You still aren’t looking at him, but you aren’t quite looking away from him either.

“... Is it true then? YN.”

You flinch, but you answer all the same.

“... Yeah, it is.” When you speak next, it’s only too obvious that you’re trying to be casual and light. “Sorry about that. I didn’t think Taehyung was such a blabbermouth.”

Jimin already knew. That was a fact.

But damn it if it doesn’t hurt right now. If it doesn’t make him physically sick, to consider his part in your current condition. To actually have to face the truth. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have-”

“You could have what?” You interrupt him. Jimin falls silent, unable to answer and you smile bitterly. “That’s what I thought.”

“If I told you when we first met, would you have believed me?”

He looks away. “... Yes, I would have.”

“Liar,” you immediately call him out, a hint of exasperation present in your tone. “Don’t blame yourself, Jimin. I chose this. I’m happy right now.”

“Originally I wasn’t going to find you, but… when I saw you, you just reminded me of the old you,” you smiled sadly. “when you didn’t know what to live for, desperate for anything to keep you going. And then I realized you didn’t recognize me… I just wanted to see you smile happily again.”

And then it feels as though someone’s punched him in the chest.

“If you die, I won’t be smiling happily anymore! If you die right now, I won’t find any reason to smile for the rest of this hell that I’m stuck as a demon. This time, I won’t ever be able to forget you. I won’t ever be able to forget your smiles, your laughter, the way you smirk at me when you tease me- I couldn’t ever forget you.” He chokes out, tears brimming in his eyes as he looks you in the eyes, forcing you to see him. “How could you ever think there would be a life where I wouldn’t fall in love with you?”

“... I’m sorry, Jimin,” your voice breaks with tears. “I’m sorry for being selfish. I should’ve just let you go, I’m sorry, I just missed you so much-”

He doesn’t know who starts crying first, only that the two of you are so close to shattering.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

“What did I do to you?” He finally asks. To your credit, you don’t break eye contact with him, only flinching a little. Jimin quietly continues. “Taehyung… he said your soul became like this because of me. I want to know the full story.”

When he senses you hesitating, thinking over what to say, he clasps your hands in his own. “Please.”

Your shoulders sag, and you look away.

“... in our first life, your wife cheated on you with another man from her village,” you finally say softly.

Jimin says nothing, only encouraging you to speak.

“Your father married you to her because she was the daughter of the head of the neighboring village, and she seemed to like you. When you were married, you made sure to treat her well, going above what people would normally do and almost even pampering her. With everything that was going on, you becoming head and your marriage, we began drifting away.”

“But your wife turned out to be tricking you only for the money and the status. I soon found out she’d been stealing money and lying about it, and going behind your back to see other men. At first I was incensed, and I immediately confronted her. She knew I could make you listen, so she promised to stop and change her ways. I agreed. I didn’t want you to be heartbroken when you realized how much she’d been lying to you.”

“... I found her under another man weeks later, near the shed. I confronted them, threatening to tell you- and her lover, who obviously knew who I was, panicked. He tried to kill me then, but I was stronger than him- and then he tried pleading for his innocence, killing your wife in turn before begging me to let it go.”

“I was shocked. At first I didn’t know what to do, but then I tried to confront her, and well-” you fall silent again, obviously torn about telling him what happens next. Jimin awaits your response, and it isn’t long before you make up your mind.

“... I tried to detain him, but in the process killed him instead. You came out, attracted by the ruckus… I can’t ever forget the face you had when you saw both your wife and another man dead, and me, standing over them,” your voice comes out as a whisper. “You never blamed me, especially after you heard the truth, but- we were never the same afterwards.”

“I think… that was the start of everything.”

The way you retell your past lives now, revealing to him the parts that you glossed over before, it puts the clues he’s seen before in clear perspective. It breaks his heart to hear your journey through the different lives, always there for him, always getting dragged into the darker side of the world because of him. Because of him, in almost every life you’ve been dragged to kill, to manipulate, to ruin lives on his account. If not to protect him, to keep him safe then to avenge him in some way.

Taehyung was right. It is his fault.

Finally, you touch upon your last life with him, your eight life.

“In our eight life, you were the emperor’s son, and I was the concubine’s son of the right minister of the court. We were childhood friends,” you smile a little in reminiscence.

“... The royal family was full of backstabbing and schemes. I wanted to protect you, but I was too young. When I finally had the power, you were already broken in by others, wanting nothing but power and revenge. I thought… no, I wanted to help. If I could have just stopped it sooner, you wouldn’t have suffered so much after all,” the guilt in your tone is thick as is the regret in your eyes. “I became the minister, scheming and backstabbing others in order to gain what I wanted, to protect you, and to help you get revenge.”

“At the end of that life, we’d drenched the whole city in blood, not a single person against you left alive.”

“... I remember that,” Jimin finally says.

A demon’s past lives are always sealed shut and kept secret, but- perhaps just by the virtue of standing by you, the one person who’s always been a central point in all his lives, that he can remember at least his last life clearly.

“... I was poisoned, wasn’t I?” He chuckles. Your smile tightens, a shaky breath leaving you that he knows isn’t just from your illness.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “In the ninth life, I couldn’t find you anywhere. I lived my whole life searching for you, but I couldn’t even sense the slightest hint of you anywhere.”

“You were looking in the wrong realm,” he laughs a little. You shrug.

“... And now, this life.”

“This life,” he echoes, falling quiet.

“You already know about my family. My mother dying at childbirth, father abandoning me, my relatives only being greedy… I ran away as soon as I could. I suffered, that’s true, but- I thought,” you swallow nervously. “I couldn’t find you anywhere last time. And this was my last life. So… I thought that maybe, I could summon a demon to help me search for you, if you were at least still alive somewhere.”

“Imagine my surprise when I summoned you instead.”

You place a small kiss on his palm, intertwining your hand with him after. “I promised I’d only take a little peek, see if you were happy, but… I guess… I guess I got greedy.”

Jimin lets out a shaky exhale, feeling the strength leave him as your words sink into his mind. “And Taehyung?”

“I met him in my ninth life. I’m pretty sure he already told you, but… he’s the one who made it possible for me to remember my past lives,” you smile a little at that. “I started searching for you after that.”

“I guess they were pretty anxious for a new angel to arrive, making me that deal.”

He scoffs. “The amount of angels that enter heaven have heavily decreased these past centuries. I’m not too surprised if they are. For a system that prides itself on its morality, their pragmatism rivals even hell itself.”

“Yeah,” you simply reply. “Don’t be too harsh on him, okay? He was the reason I found you in this life, after all. I’m thankful I got to see you again in my last life.”

And just like that, he’s reminded again of the situation at hand.

“After all, they said,” you continue, “I could die at any moment now.”

Fingers trace where your heart would be in your chest. “Complications from my birth defect. A blood clot formed in one of the arteries near my heart. ”

“More than that though- there’s only two weeks left, before our contract ends,” you tell him. Jimin squeezes your hand, seated beside you.

“...Is there anything you want?”

“Just stay with me, please,” you close your eyes as you lean on him.

“Alright. Alright, I can do that.”

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

After that, Jimin stays by your side at all times, every waking second of the day, if not to keep you company, then to ease the pain in your body. It’s ironic, considering your past lives. He remembers being bedridden, every change of his condition monitored. You’d told him multiple times then, that you were willing to follow him to the grave. The ministers praised your loyalty. Only he knew that it wasn’t a promise so much as a statement.

“Wow,” your lips quirk into a grin as you take the cup from his hands. “Tea from you, our great and oh-so-gracious emperor. How lucky of me.”

“Perfectly brewed tea too,” he preens as you compliment him.

In a reversal of roles, he brews you tea, accompanying you around (though not too far lest your disease acts up again), making sure that in your last days, you’re left with as little regret and as much contentment as you can get.

Still, he can’t help thinking over the angel’s words. Every time he sees you just enjoy being alive together, he wonders, why not? If it guaranteed your survival, he’d push you to become a demon, or even an angel.

The one time that he brings it up, though, you instantly shoot him down.

“I don’t want to be an angel,” you bluntly state. “If I did, I’d be bound to fight you someday. Besides, heaven cast me out already..”

“Becoming a demon isn’t something you can so easily do, either. Remembering my previous lives actually makes it harder for me. Even if it’s for you… I can’t justify ruining people’s lives in any way in this life.”

He exhales, grip on you tightening with every word you say, feeling as though if he doesn’t, then somehow, somehow, you’ll instantly disappear.

“... I know.”

He doesn’t bring up that topic again.

And if he leaves moments later, not returning until an hour later, appearing the same but feeling empty of everything inside, well. At least you don’t call him out on it.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

A few days before your contract ends, he’s visited by someone he didn’t think would see him.

“If you had a chance to save him,” he says. “Would you?”

Of course. If there’s anything that binds Jimin and him together, it’s you.

“I would.”

A heartbeat’s worth of moment passes- and then he replies.

“What are you willing to give up?”

“Everything.”

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

“YN!”

You cheekily wave at him from where you are, standing by the bed, outfit not the hospital gown but rather clothes for outside wear. Jimin stride over to you, features stiff as he almost-but-not-quite glares at you, or to be more specific at you standing and dressed to go out.

“I didn’t want to spend my last days on a hospital bed,” you explain before he can say anything, a forcefully lighthearted tone in your voice. You smile at him easily, pulling him down for a kiss- one that he easily returns, before grasping his hands in yours. “So. Accompany me, will you?”

Cold. Your body temperature has always been a little below than how normal humans should be, but in this moment it’s fallen even lower and Jimin can’t help but let his magic ease the discomfort you must be feeling. You hum in pleasure as you feel the pain in your body dull, no doubt because of Jimin.

“... Fine,” he sighs, before warning you. “But we aren’t doing anything strenuous.”

“I know,” you roll your eyes at him, before tugging on your interlocked hands. “Come on, we’re losing daylight.”

Where are we even going? He wants to ask, but it’s a futile question. After all, he’ll follow you wherever you decide to go, whether it be even heaven or hell.

With that thought in mind, he lets you lead.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

The destination in question turns out to be the Keukenhof gardens, the place you two intended to visit before the incident.

Although he originally didn’t want you to put too much pressure on your body, Jimin thinks, if only to himself, that maybe this trip is doing you more good than harm. Surrounded by the beautiful scenery, it seems as though you are at peace for once. The tension that seemed unnoticeable before has visibly melted away for both of you, leaving you both at peace.

“I remember you strolling in the imperial gardens.” The memory in question comes in a burst as he watches you walk around. The scene before him blurs. The present overlaps with the past vision of you in his mind- where you’re wearing brightly colored robes, followed by several attendants. Tulips on the ground are replaced by falling plum blossoms, and even the atmosphere is different.

What only remains the same is you and the gentle look on your face.

“I always found you having tea in the pavilion. That was the first place I looked to when I needed you, and I rarely failed to find you there.”

You laugh a little. “I always asked you to join me.”

“... Yes, you were the only one who could so easily ask me to take a break with you,” he murmurs. “No one else would even dare meet my eyes. They were always too afraid.”

“The memories keep coming back to me now.”

“Do they?” You ask him, swinging your linked hands a little. “Our lives keep changing, but if there’s anything that stays the same… I guess it’s this. I’m glad I got to do this at least once with you in this life too.”

“If it were up to me, we’d do this everyday.”

And then he feels you tug on him. He notices the way your breathing quickly becoming erratic, you starting to struggle even more just to breathe. It’s nothing that his magic can’t dull, the pain disappearing but the damage increasing.

This is the limit of what Jimin can do (he hates it, but you always look at him a grateful look on your face and he swallows back the words, knowing what your reaction would be).

After that, he carries you to one of the benches by the path. In the late afternoon, the sky is a brilliant shade of rose, sunlight gently bathing the sea of flowers with gold.

‘Just a little longer’, he thinks. Please.

“Hey, Jimin.”

“... You asked me before,” you suddenly speak up again, voice falling lower as if you’re sleepy. “If I was afraid to die.”

“Even after countless lifetimes, I’ve always been afraid to die,” you reveal. “But I was more afraid to die without seeing you at least once.”

“Were you happy, this past year?” He abruptly asks. The answer should be obvious- you’ve done so much just to find him, just to stay by him, so obviously you should, but he can’t help asking. Were you? Were you happy? Was he able to make you feel that the pain was worth it in any way?

Maybe it isn’t for you as much as it is for him. I’m sorry. The words are laced in every touch and he wonders if you can hear it.

You chuckle. “Of course I am.”

“... Jimin,” you call out his name again, when the silence drags him down to where his thoughts fester. He shivers- feeling your presence slowly wither away beside him, as you struggle to speak, your voice becoming more and more quiet. “Jimin...”

“Yes?”

“If there’s a life beyond this one, and the other one, and beyond… I’d still want to spend all of it with you.”

Jimin laughs, but it’s strange.

His voice… it really isn’t as smooth as it used to be. The trembling, choked up feeling in his throat- they turn his words into ones filled with tears. “Really, YN? That’s a promise then, alright? After all, I still haven’t paid you back for all the lifetimes I’ve caused you grief… I don’t think I ever will, no matter how much I try.”

He looks at you then- at your eyes that hold nothing but fondness in them, to the gentle slope of your lips, the smooth space between your eyebrows. Dipping his head low, he cups your face, pressing a kiss on your forehead. Your grip on him would be painful if there was any force behind it. As it is, he only grasps your hand in turn to make sure that at least you know you are together until the end.

A moment passes, and then another.

An evening breeze brushes by, making the trees sway, leaves falling down to the ground.

Jimin’s hands barely tremble as he closes your eyes for you.

Like this, it’s easy to pretend you’re just sleeping.

“... Goodnight, YN.”

Flower petals dance through the air, and Jimin thinks that is probably the send off that you would like. Surrounded by what you love.

He hopes that your smile carries on wherever you may go.

“I’ll meet you soon.”

Only the wind is there to hear him now, only the rising moon there to witness the tears that follow yet again.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

“Hic… hic…”

It’s the sound of something that draws him to the place hidden behind the playground. He’s not scared- no, really!- but the other kids are too busy playing, enough that they couldn’t hear him when he said he wanted to join, so they definitely wouldn’t notice if something interesting was happening somewhere!

He’s a big boy though, so he can wait until they’re done, whenever that is. In the meantime, he can hear something weird, and he’s curious, so he can go investigate that!

So he walks carefully to just the veeeeery edge of the sandbox, looking around and trying to find out where the noise is coming from.

When he looks through the bushes, it’s when he finds himself what’s making the noise.

“What the- hey, are you okay?”

It’s a crying boy.

For a moment, the two of them look at each other, surprised- before he awkwardly smiles at the other. When they don’t say anything, just staring at him, he patiently waits for them to say something. That’s what his mother always told him to do, after all.

“Are you okay?” He repeats. The other nods a little. “What happened? I heard this strange noise but you seem and sound like you were crying!”

At that, they begin to tear up again.

“... I-I got lost, and I can’t find my mommy or my daddy…”

“Oh,” he says, before smiling. “That’s okay! I’ll help you find them!”

“... Really?”

He grins, eyes turning into crescent moons as he holds out his hand for the other to take. “Yeah, really! I’m kinda new here, so my mom told me where to go if I’m ever lost! I can take you there!”

They hesitate, face sad, before they seem to decide- and they take his hand.

And in that moment, he feels something wet on his cheeks.

“... a-are you crying!? I’m sorry!”

“Um- no, it’s okay… I just got really happy for no reason!” He hastily wipes away the tears, feeling really happy and sad for some reason. “Um… sorry… um.”

“What’s your name? Do you want to be friends? You’re really cute!”

“H-Huh?” They blush. “... My name is YN. And you are?”

“It’s Jimin! From now on, we’re friends, okay?”

They smile, and his chest feels a little funny. A little warm too. Just- he’s really, really happy, more than he’s ever been!

“Sure!”

Behind them both, a feather falls onto the ground.

#bts x reader #bangtanhq #ficswithluv #bangtanfairygarden #bangtanscenery #park jimin x reader #jimin x reader #bts fic #bts scenario #jimin fic #jimin scenario #bts x male reader #park jimin x male reader

154 notes · View notes

lovestrucked-again · 4 years ago

Text

Days Of Eminence | L. Jeno

Summary: There’s only a small amount of cities that still exist, the city of Eminence being the next most likely to perish. It’s not the city that dies, but the people - guided by an Angel. He says Y/N is his saviour, the one who can guide him to Heaven, but how can she when she’s the one meant to kill him. Genre: angst, smut,

Pairing: angel! Jeno x agent! female reader (ft Jaemin) Word count: 5k

Warning: corruption of Angelic themes, smut, death

a/n: Something very different as part of the summer collaboration by @neo-cult-ure. My chosen summer-titled song is “Summer” by Keshi. Thank you for hosting this!! <3

“3 months is all we’ve got.” _____

They asked you to write everything you could remember. A hard thing since there’s only so much sorrow in the telling. Your mind shies away from it, looping between the past and present in time.

Jaemin squeezed your arm, his face stern. “Stay only long enough to find out what goes on, Y/N. 3 months is all we’ve got.”

You nodded, believing it would be that easy; truly imagining that you were prepared for what was coming.

***

First Month Eminence was cool and muted as the mountain city of summer. As in summer, most constructions of the city covered in a shadowed glow, soft stone in the dark; seemingly clean, bare, bonelike whiteness. You knew the ceremonies conducted by the Angel occurred during sunset, hence your entry at that time. Walking through the main street you started to see how the people of this place looked ill and frail. Many bore savage burn scars, though they looked content.

“We know there is a place called the Chantry where the people meet to hear the Angel speak every day. I will guide you there.”

Passing from the pink stained dusty street and into the shadowy interior of the Chantry, you could hear the murmurs of the hundreds of voices that echoed. People were pressed in close and stood staring up at a raised stage. A plain wooden seat set atop the stage and sitting on it, was the Angel.

Dressed in a white shirt, barefoot; his feet not quite touching the floor, fingers clasped loosely on his lap, like a child sitting at his lessons. Though he wore no crown, his hair was white and rose up floating about his head, catching the sunlight in a nimbus.

Behind him, the shocking contrast. The outermost wall of the city lay open and presented a black continuous land. Eminence was the edge of the frontier beyond which no one could walk and live for long.

Jaemin had told you the Angel was young, but the light glowing behind him made it impossible to tell. You felt uneasy at the face of shadows crowned by light, surround darkness. You told yourself, that it was a deliberate effect, that the angel had aimed to make himself binding awe and mystery.

Then the angel shifted and light fell onto his features.

You gasped, but the sound drifted and lost its way into the cries of people pressed around you. Your breath was kicked out of you; the Angel was beautiful.

Even as you recall these memories, your seeking for another word, but are defeated, for there is no word made that can describe the solemn beauty of the Angel’s features. You were stunned.

Surely the others tasked with your mission would have mentioned this. And if so, why didn't they tell you? Then a second later you realise that the appearance of the Angel would not be thought important to adult agents searching for power and corruption. They would not see such incandescent beauty as power, for anyone seeing truly must know no corruption had ever touched that face. Here was goodness personified. Here was an Angel.

It made sense now, why they had chosen to send you instead. An adult would see a child in the Angel’s face and search for a manipulator. Indeed, you had been warned to search for the boy’s controlled. But you only saw beauty, so pure it could inflame those who looked upon it with a kind of madness of adoration; and in its midst, eyes with the sad wisdom of emotion.

You missed quite a lot of what he was saying that day due to your shock at his appearance, but you visited the Chantry every day from then on, with the rest of the citizens, listening to him say the same words over and over again. Before long, you knew them well enough to chant with him, as the rest did.

“There was a sickening of the spirit of heaven.” He began without preamble, voice sweet and low pitched, shaped to the story, so that his words became a sort of wind that breathed itself into you.

“Therefore, heaven separated this sickening spirit, lest it infect the rest, imprisoning it in a cage of flesh. Sent it upon the earth, the flesh which calls itself human-kind, multiplied, as is its nature. Far from what heaven had hoped, the spirit became further corrupted, wholly absorbed by its physical prison.”

His voice shaded into an implacable subtone. “In grace and infinite mercy, heaven sought to undo this binding of flesh to spirit. I am that spirit and that flesh sent to rid Plethora – to end the overmuch of flesh and spirit that clings to it and worships it.”

“These are the days of Plethora; the days of Eminence which you may prepare for the end of flesh. That the spirit in you will perish with the flesh in which you chose not to rise above. This is the judgement of heaven. I am the Angel, offering to those who seek it, a high path offering the choice to loosen your spirit from flesh so that when Plethora comes, it may fly.”

He asked who aspired to take the High path and a lot of people lifted their arms, streamed through doors to left and right at the front of the Chantry. After a few visits, you had learned those who were more sick and ailing and scared, stood right. The others gathered on the left.

You watched them go curiously, thinking to yourself that this High Path and the whole story of being an Angel, was a mixed belief of old religions. Your superiors had predicted it.

“The angel is using tried and true beliefs, but the it doesn't explain how he has amassed his power. Nor does it explain the weapons he has his followers collect. If it was only weapons, we could disarm them and let them be, but there is more to it than that and this Angel is the centre. That is where you come in, it seems the Angel is searching for someone to restore his condition.”

They meant this literally. The Angel lived amongst people who adored him, who devoted their entire life towards him, yet, he could not find someone to share his warmth and in turn grew colder each day. You were told he would play with the Children of Eminence. You learned how easy it was to get to him the first day you woke in the city, attendants of his asking who would like to visit the Angel. Ten were selected. It was a simple process, proving no difficulty, but that wasn't your goal. Initially you had planned to learn a little more about the High Path, advocated by the Angel.

You learnt that the meaning behind separating the spirit from flesh was literally that; people letting themselves be physically tortured. You learnt it the hard way, choosing to follow those people who ushered you to the left door in the Chantry. You knew there was a physical torture of some sort behind the door, having seen those who went in healthy come out battered and thin and pale, but still alive.

They are a nightmare to remember. Only glimpses can still be recalled through the erased memories. They were not able to wipe out everything, and the strongest details of pain remained; where you were swimming and swimming desperately in a vast of water, pushed by people prodding sticks to keep you from reaching the surface, until you could swim no more. You would sink, screaming for the end to come, breathing in the thickness of liquid. There would be agony, then unconsciousness. Then you would be revived and be tortured to undergo the same thing all over again.

Some died in this first process of the High Path, and the Angel praised them, claiming heaven had accepted their spirit before Plethora had fallen. Many went mad, the pain of drowning and reviving repetitively unable to keep the sane. You were on the verge of falling victim to the second stage; thinking it could not be any worse, when you were selected to visit the Angel.

Second Month Unable to refuse, you went with caution and a little excited flock of children, expecting rituals and brainwashing, or maybe some sort of sexual interference disguised as play, but all the Angel did was play with them. The children squealed and giggled, running in circles as he tickled them, crawled after them, growling and pretending to gobble them up. He laughed and told them stories of heaven, singing melodies and songs he had learnt. You hovered at the back, wondering how one who so obviously adored children could allow them to be tortured and guide them to their deaths.

As if he felt the intensity of your scrutiny, the Angel looked over the children’s heads, towards you. And in that moment, you learnt the truth behind love at first sight: a mingling of souls that surpass all sense, all words, all life. The first single look you exchanged left you weakened in a voracious longing. But the most shattering thing, was the awareness the Angel experienced the same amount of recognition and emotion.

You watched his lips part in the shape to form a word, perhaps a curse or prayer, then he beckoned you. The children parted, letting you pass as you moved to him as quickly as you could, unable to contain the string that seemed to be tugging from his direction.

“Welcome, my dearest love,” he whispered, taking your hand, “I was waiting for you.”

You were completely bewildered. You tried to open your mouth but nothing came out; the phrases you had prepared in order to fit in, could not form. Dearest love.

“I am Y/N.”

He smiled and it seemed to you there was something new in his face. “Yes.” He released one of your hands and reached out to stroke a finger along your cheek. “I am Jeno, and as an Angel, I am beyond saving. Yet how else shall my spirit transcend flesh at the end, except by its grace? Thus heaven swore that I would find Plethora in the face and flesh of a girl called Y/N. My name was given to me – Jeno – as I was told I would know its truest meaning only when I saw you, and with that pain that it would bring, my soul can be released.”

You swallowed hard, unable to process the stream of words amongst your panicking madness of gibberish about love and death. “I…I don't understand. Did you know I would come?”

“I knew you would come to stand before me today. I left you to freely wander through the city of Eminence where other agents before you were discarded of at once.”

“I…other agents?” you questioned, feeling your spine turn cold.

He sighed. “You are not the first to be sent from your city in fear of attack and conversion to Angel worshipping. The man who led you here still stands outside these walls, where even now, waits for you outside Eminence, his fear of losing you gnawing at him.”

You blinked, remembering the look on Jaemin’s face as he placed the gun in your hand.

“You have undergone the start to the High Path,” Jeno goes on. “You have seen all the city in your wanderings. You asked questions and received true answers. You know my name, my face, my voice. I know that you have yet to be touched by the Highest Path – but we shall find that path in one another, for only by love can the soul find its highest pain.”

You gave up your act of confusion. You were trained to accept and prepare for the inevitable death when the time would come. The fear of death mingled with his words of terrifying madness claimed of love. You let your emotions fuse into a shield, waiting for it to form a barrier that could not be broken.

“An opportunity will come, in that split second when you can act and alter the course of events. Miss it and you die.” Jaemin had warned you, showing you how to remain calm and watchful.

“What are you going to do with me?” you asked the Angel.

“First, I will show you what you have not been allowed to find,” he said, and with that, he led you out of the enclosed garden. The children trailed behind in a train as he brought you through the city to the silos where the weapons were kept. Ancient missiles which, when activated, would rain acid chemicals to poison the earth and sear the flesh.

“H-How did you find them?” you asked, frozen at the sight. There was enough to destroy all cities – Plethora.

“Heaven guided me,” Jeno said, his fingers lightly caressing your arm.

“Why?” you hesitated, but you knew. Had you not heard the words a dozen times? Watched him form the sentences from his lips? As if reading your mind, he said them once again.

“These are the Plethora days - the end days - in which the spirit will be guided to abandon the flesh in judgement of heaven.” He touched the missile gently as if it was an animal that may run. “In a sense, I am also an agent, sent from Heaven. Just as your Jaemin had given you that gun to summon aid, I have you. My one chance for redemption.”

He smiled and led you back to the garden. Strange though it seemed, the two of you sat and he held you, stroked your hair and whispered words of love into your ears. He went for a while to deliver his morning speech, but he returned immediately after. You didn’t bother to run or hide, because he was an Angel and you knew you were captured by love.

“Come with me,” he murmured, grasping your hand in his as he guided you down an empty street. The sun was setting now, glowing from behind your figures and casting a shadow over you.

Jeno led you to a small but neatly structured building. His place was far from your imagination. For some unknown reason, you had pictured a place full of light of both natural and artificial. A room full of white, perhaps a few paintings of what he claimed was heaven. So to come into a small building shrouded with colours of grey and black surprised you. He left the curtains drawn during the day, allowing no light to shine through and liven his home.

“Is this where you live?” you asked quietly, swaying the curtains slightly as you peeked through to see outside.

“Yes,” he replied, “Do you like it?”

It bought a strange comfort knowing that his place was different from what you expected, a strange sense of relief. The Angel was a being himself, not controlled, not programmed, but with his own thoughts, likes and dislikes.

“I do, it’s nice.” It wasn't something that could be explained; the thought process that ran through your mind when it occurred. You bought your hand to his arm, sliding it down to hold his hand. He turned to look at you, startled at your touch.

You squeezed his hand softly, feeling his fingers intertwine with yours. He doesn't seem to realise what his doing, focused only on your eyes, caught in them yet again, out of his depth.

Jeno blinked; suddenly he knew. He leaned in towards you, just a little. And you watched as his soft dark eyes close, bringing his lips in to touch yours. He leaned in further, sweeping your lips with his tongue and he felt his heart leap when you opened for him.

His hand cupped your chin and you let your face be guided. That too was right, as was the sudden tautness in your nipples. And his long fingers leaving your face, softly sweeping over your shoulder to enfold your breast - that was right, too, as it should be. And so was Jeno’s emphatic manhood, now thrusting upwards; that too was appropriate, perfect.

His breath caught at the feeling of soft fingers on his knee, tracing their way up his thigh. His hand swept over to your other breast, squeezed tenderly. His uncertainty vanished when you reopened your eyes. The look in them was ageless, assured. He could see yearning in them, too, a need not just for him, but for his approval, his acceptance of you as you. His breath caught again as you hand moved further, as if in confirmation, grasped at his cock. Your tongue met his, teased and played as your fingers rolled his balls between them.

He began to turn towards you, but the you were faster and he found himself pushed onto his back on the couch with you lying half on top of him. Your lips crushed his, your tongue probing deeper into his mouth. His hesitancy gone, he kissed back, his own hunger now open and clear.

Your fingers trailed lightly up and down the length of his manhood before returning to the tip, pulling it gently away from his body. You held it there for a moment, released it, began to roll his balls again. He had never been so hard, so aroused. His eyes closed as he focused on your light, deft touch.

You smiled to yourself, happy at his obvious pleasure.

You in her turn gasped softly as Jeno’s hand squeezed first one breast, then the other, lifting, weighing them, mounding them. His hands drifted, began to roll and pull your long nipples; you sighed at the sweet sensation flooding through your body. It was clear that the Angel, too, knew what pleased a partner. His patient, loving working of your nipples continued even as you shifted, moving to lie on your side, facing him. You shuddered, gave a slight cry as he lightly pinched a swollen nub, leaned down and began to tease it with the tip of his tongue. You felt your labia swell, sensed your dew on them, felt your clitoris ease out from under its hood, hard now, expectant.

Your hand moved from his balls to his cock. You slid a hand over it, up and down, thumbing its swollen head at the top of each stroke, giggled as it twitched in your hand. Squeezing harder, you began to drag the velvety skin back and forth over its iron core, slowly at first, then faster and still faster.

You gave a low moan as his hand moved down your body, caught along your pubic hair, pulled it gently. You could feel the air on your wet sex, moaned again as a long finger traced the length of your entrance.

You moaned again as the finger probed your opening up to the first knuckle, began to turn and twist within you. You could feel an orgasm building within you as his foreplay fanned a fire unfed for far too long.

You sensed that he too was very close.

You gave a strong push, rolling the Angel onto his back, his engorged organ swaying for a moment. With a soft chuckle, you straddled him, reached down and slowly guided yourself down onto his length. You paused for a moment, sitting upright, your eyes closed, allowing yourself to enjoy the feeling of being filled, happily stretched by Jeno’s manhood.

He layed still, his eyes sweeping back and forth between your eyes and your breasts. His hands rose up over your waist, fell to seize the tops of your hips. He smiled at the sight of your figure beginning to sway and rock on his cock.

Your eyes were closed and there was a happy smile on your face, one of pleasant concentration perhaps. The sun shone through your hair, rays reflecting against the bedsheets. With each roll of your hips, your soft breasts swayed, the ends of your hair drifting across his face and chest.

He slid his hands lightly over your thighs, came to rest on your bum. Your weight was on him and he couldn't move his hips. He found himself longing to pull you down, to crush your lips on his. His hands rose, hesitated.

Instead, he settled them on your waist, squeezed, pulling your body against his. Your skin was warm, soft, with toned, firm flesh underneath. His hands swept up to recapture your breasts, took your swollen nipples between thumb and forefinger, pulled gently, twisted.

You drifted in a wave of sensation as you rolled up and down on his cock. The taut rim of its crown pushing back and forth across your velvet lining fanned your arousal, each millimeter of motion like gasoline on a fire.

For the first time since you arrived, you were allowing yourself to be happy, to enjoy yourself without guilt. You began to give short cries as Jeno’s fingers gripped your nipples more firmly, pulled them and turned them.

You shifted, grabbed his wrists and leaned forward, pinning them to the armrest over his head. You could feel your nipples brush across his chest every time your hips drove torso down.

Jeno, for the first time in his experience, was not controlling anything. It was a strange thing for him -- exciting, but very different. Looking up at you, he could see that you’d caught your lower lip between your teeth. Your eyes were closed as you focused on the happy lust blooming within you.

His hands held against the sheet, he could do little but enjoy the sensation of you working yourself over and along his cock. After a moment, he bent his legs, pushing you further up his body. You opened your eyes, smiled at him briefly before changing your rolling to more of a plunging motion.

Your boobs swayed and swung as you bounced up and down; your soft buttocks slid up and down along his thighs.

He found that he could lean his head forward and almost reach... He pulled his feet in closer, raising his knees, pulling her closer still... and found his mouth could now reach your nipples when you came close enough. You gasped in surprise the first time and, still biting your lip, moaned in appreciation.

Jeno’s cock felt enormous to you. He could feel a fiery pressure building behind his balls.

You dropped all of your weight letting the intrusion into your pussy, letting yourself grind your pelvis against his. You went rigid for a moment, crying out at the explosion of joy, your orgasm possessing you, controlling you.

***

“Will you kill me so easily?” you whispered, unable to fall asleep with the silky sheets tucked around you.

And then you turned in your position, shifting to stare at him carefully in the dark – the only light provided by the natural moonlight shining between the gap of the open slit in the curtain. His expression lost as it seemed reality set back in. And then he wept, and you wept too. He reached out a pulled you into his arms. Surprised at the strength of his arm under your soft flesh. His hands trembled as they rested on your bare arms, and he leaned towards you and put his lips on yours.

“Flesh keeps our spirits apart,” he said, without taking his mouth away from you. “When Plethora comes, we will never be parted, not in all eternity.”

“But we won’t be ourselves in your heaven,” you shivered, the desire for him to kiss you again so powerful it felt like a knife poking at the edges of your heart.

“You’ll see.” he murmured bleakly, and you noticed the shadow of longing, the pain of parting, mirrored in his eyes, “it’ll be okay,” he said. And he kissed you again.

The two of you laid awake all night, he told you his coming to Plethora and the years of his rising to power. He explained to you the deaths of the agents - all self chosen as they challenged the road to the High Path. They had been converted he explained. You knew he was trying to convert you, and that in convincing you to accept death, he was fighting his love. In turn, you sought to win from his duty to heaven. Every minute that passed together seemed to make love seem brighter and more dangerously alluring.

Third Month The next day, or perhaps it was many days later, he showed you the maps that indicated the piles of missiles which had been set under all the cities; under yours. To destroy Plethora wasn’t enough for him. He showed you the room on the perimeter of Plethora, where the explosions and weapons would simultaneously be set off.

“This time, everything will go.”

“You’d kill all of those thousands of people after they survived the madness of world wars?” you asked, standing in the small machine dominated room

“I would free the souls left behind,” he said gently, “free them from fear and death and pain and sorrow,”

“And from love and beauty of the sort that only flesh would know?”

Again there was a flash of pain in his eye, and he stroked your cheek, then pointed to the back of your pants – the gun hidden underneath your clothing. “Why not summon him then? He will come here to save you will he not? He could kill me and save you.”

You thought there was a flare of hope in his eyes.

“Would you let him kill you?” you asked, knowing that there was an answer already known. The thought of Jeno dying bought heavy pains to your heart.

***

“You believed he was an Angel?” Jaemin asks, taking a moment to read through the words you had just written down. His eyes are filled with pain, disbelief and lack the warmth they held moments ago. He does not try to hide it anymore, unable to care if he knows how you feel.

“He was,” you say, “He came to bring Plethora. He fell in love, he trusted me.”

“Y-You loved him?” He turns around, letting himself stare out at the window as he braces himself

“I-I did.” you hesitate, wondering how many forms of pain your heart could go through without breaking for good.

“You killed him,” Jaemin states blankly, “You had to. He would have killed himself, killed you, and all of us. All the children and killed humanity out of love. You killed him so that we would survive.”

The flashes of pain and memory well up and spill out of you. Again you see his face, fused with radiance, for he would have walked the Highest Path of all in the moment of his death, knowing he failed because of his love for you. Again you feel the wind blow past your body, the explosion and flaring heat of flames as they coiled around you. The sound of Eminence dying was the sound of your undeniable regrets.

***

“Could you explain what happened?” The man asks, “I know its written here but…”

He stops talking, not wanting to force you into explaining something so visibly emotionally exhausting but desperate for the information.

“He showed me the control room, and when I had the chance, I went back to destroy it. I rewired it so that it would be blown up. I didnt realise the city would go with it. I thought it’d be only the room.”

“He might have lied when he said the control room was the only centre. The weapons could have been triggered some other way.”

You look at the wall, and when he realises it’s the end of the conversation, he leaves. He doesn’t believe Jeno was an Angel, convinced you had perhaps been manipulated – gone mad. He could not understand than an Angel is truth. Unfortunately you could not tell him any different. People see what they want to see. Jeno had said that.

“It was foreseen that it would come to this moment of balance,” Jeno had said, standing in the doorway of the control room. His eyes were on the weapon you held. Jaemin had handmade it, the handgun that had been carved with your initials, attached with a blooming light. Your hand trembled.

“You love me,” Jeno said.

You nodded weeping, “I do, but I have to stop you. I can’t let you destroy everything.”

“Only flesh, my love. Only the material world would die. I would never hurt you.” He was smiling because he was an Angel. And Angels are love and only know of love. He loved you, but he did not understand the nature of flesh, the need for it to survive - to love. “Come with me.” he said, his face exalted, “It’s not too late, even with all you have done. We can end it together.”

He reached for the lever which would bring destruction to the world before the control room could explode and sever Eminence from the other cities. But before he could, you triggered first. The gun that you had not once ever used finally triggered and a red flower landed on the Angel’s heart. He fell like a snowflake, as the city around you shook. His head landed in your lap and he smiled, lifting his fingers to your face.

“Too late,” he whispered, his hand falling back. “I failed heaven. I failed you, my love. We must part.”

“No,” you cried, but he was gone, flesh and spirit.

***

Survival is a disturbing topic. You were meant to follow him, for the journey of the High Path was started together. Yet you live and suffer. Perhaps the path is longer for you, a punishment for your betrayal.

The meaning behind his name only occurred to you long after your recovery. Jeno was an Angel, a King to his city. He was the strength of life, binding the souls and spirits of the citizens and guiding them to Heaven. And he was also strength in its scariest form – forcing you to put an end to the life of someone you cherished in the short 3 months you had.

#nct imagines #nct sceanrios #nct smut #nct dream #nct jeno #nct fanfics #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #summer collab #nct #lee jeno #jeno imagines

95 notes · View notes

kiingocreative · 4 years ago

Text

The Structure of Story is available for preorder on Amazon! Check out the link in our bio or at https://kiingo.co/preorder

The true meaning of dialogue arises from more than just the words that the characters speak. Dialogue's true meaning arises from the context in which the words are spoken.

A villain whispering, "Stay safe." means something completely different than a character who says it to their partner when they know they're getting off the phone for the last time. The context in which a line is spoken colors the words. This coloring can create subtext--a feeling that there's more going on here than the surface words would have us believe.

When we write dialogue, we want to first think about the context of the line. We need to think about the scene more broadly. What does each character in the scene want? And are they being direct or indirect about what they want? When characters intentionally hide their goals, they tend to speak indirectly and this can create subtext. Sometimes the indirectness is strategic (such as with a serial killer who's trying to mask their identity) and sometimes it's more emotional (such as a character who's taking out their anger by berating their partner for chewing too loudly). The context of a character's words can also be shaped by the character's fears, insecurities, regrets, and beliefs.

Once you're clear about the context of the scene and whether any characters will be speaking indirectly (i.e. subtextually), make sure that each line is being said for a *reason*. What does the character hope to achieve through these words? What's their purpose? We don't come to stories for chit-chat or small talk. We want to see the story move forward. It's for this reason that we need to avoid dialogue that is *only* expository (i.e. dialogue only meant to deliver information to the audience). A good litmus test here is to ask whether both characters in the dialogue already know the information that's being spoken. If they do, chances are that the line is overly expository.

Of course sometimes characters *do* have to convey information that's important to understand the story. To make an expository line interesting, make sure that the information is being used as ammunition (as Robert McKee says). In other words, one character can remind the other about their childhood but only if it's meant to attack, criticize, or test the other character. And the other character can respond with childhood information but only if it's meant to defend themselves or attack back. No character should explain for its own sake.

Dialogue is a tool that characters can use to accomplish something. They might be attacking, defending, pleading, persuading, deceiving, manipulating, coercing, etc. With this in mind, words aren't the only way to accomplish these actions. Consider where your character might use silence in place of words, for instance. Stonewalling implicitly with silence can be more powerful than saying you're ignoring the other person. Consider also the physical actions that the character might take to carry out the same intention as the line of dialogue. The character might fold their arms or back away. Each of these actions can convey just as much information as a line of dialogue can.

Avoid unintended repetition. If a character is performing the same basic action in their dialogue, consider how you can change up that action. If a character begs in one line and then begs in the next and then begs again, it's boring--even if the character uses different words in their begging. Don't let characters repeat the same beat even if they change what they're saying on the surface.

When we get down to the actual task of writing the words, we're in the craft of writing, not storytelling. We're focused on language and what makes it interesting and engaging. Here are a few general principles: Consider the rhythm of the words. Screenwriter Aaron Sorkin thinks about rhythm when he writes dialogue. He says, "Cadence and tone and volume--all of the rules of music apply to this. So when I'm writing, what the words sound like is as important to me as what the words mean. It's a lot about rhythm." Keeping this in mind can help avoid stiff dialogue.

As a general principle, remove redundancy in dialogue. Prefer shorter sentences. Remove any adverbs that aren't actually *modifying* a verb. For instance, "smiled happily" is redundant while "smiled sadly" provides unique information in the form of a contradiction. Take out fillers (such as "um, ah, well, you know") unless they either enhance the character's voice or contribute to the rhythm of the line.

#writingtips #creative writing #screenwriting #writers on tumblr #writers #writing #writerblr #writing advice #writing community #writing resources

25 notes · View notes

panda-noosh · 5 years ago

Text

somewhere in the trees {zuko x reader}

Words: 14.4k

Summary: Rules are rules - other kingdoms are not meant to mingle with the Fire Nation. Zuko knows he’s in trouble when he comes across an Earth Bender hidden deep within the trees just outside his home.

Genre: angst

Warning: panic attacks

Notes: masterlist - support my writing or ask me about commissions! - i haven’t written for Zuko in ages and it hurt me.

---

Zuko listens to the drums.

Dull, throbbing, making his ears pop every few seconds. He leans his head back against the wall, trying his hardest to catch breath that shouldn't have left him in the first place, because he's been doing this for years – for as long as he can remember, in fact.

Showing his face to the people of the Fire Nation shouldn't be such a hard task when he was raised in the palace, when his father is king and his mother is queen and the world knows him by name. Showing his power should be easy, but when he stands next to Azula, he can't help feeling inadequate, and he hates that. It makes his heart race with a mixture of horror and embarrassment; Azula stands beside him, shoulders drawn back and head held high, and she just does everything so naturally, like she was made for the stage. In a way, Zuko was also made for the stage – he just hasn't quite mastered how to show that yet.

This particular show took its toll on him more than it ever has before. Azula was gaining some male attention that quickly turned on Zuko; the three burly men fighting for his sisters affection had taken it upon themselves to chastise Zuko for his limp arms, and his lanky frame, and the scar covering one side of his face. They didn't know the true story – gods forbid someone find out the true story – but they jeered him for it anyway.

Azula had done nothing to help.

So Zuko left. He scrambled off stage and darted into the woods, and that's where he finds himself now.

He presses his head against his knees. Around him, a bird chirps, but Zuko doesn't look towards it. He keeps his head down, inhaling and exhaling, concentrating on the steady rise and fall of his chest. He even presses a hand against his collarbone, trying desperately to feel his pulse, to make sure everything is in order because it really, really feels like something is wrong. Maybe it's a panic attack – Zuko has heard of those only a handful of times, and it's always when his father is laughing about them. He thinks people who can't control their nerves are weak, and Zuko has always laughed along with him because he just wants to please the man, he just wants to prove himself, he just wants to be like him.

The thought draws Zuko up short. His eyes squeeze closed, and he shakes his head, back and forth, back and forth like an animal in distress. The idea – the thought – of ending up like his father is enough to make his breathing stutter, and he's dragged right back to square one before he can even get a hold on himself.

“No,” he whispers. “No, no, no, no.” On and on, tiny words escaping his mouth. The birds around him chirp and soar. The grass beneath him tickles his ankles. He wonders if he's allergic, if maybe this is just some kind of medical reaction That would be easier to explain to his father.

“No.”

“Bloody hell, I heard you the first time.”

Zuko yells.

He scrambles away from the wall, shoving himself into a pile of stray autumn leaves. Nettles stab into his exposed arms, and he cries out again before scrambling away, his eyes darting to and fro for the source of the mysterious voice.

He sees nothing. Just birds and grass and trees.

He licks his lips. “H-Hello?”

“Hello.”

He flinches back. “This isn't funny. Where are you? Show yourself now!”

“Oooh, the prince finally found a set of vocal cords.” There's a small titter of laughter. Zuko scowls, clenching his fists in the grass. “I don't really like fire benders in my forest, if I'm being completely honest. Your powers don't really suit this kind of area.”

“You're in our woods – the Fire Nation belongs to me and my family!” Zuko looks around again. “Where are you?”

“Your woods? When was the last time you came out here and chased off some meddling fire bending teenagers, huh? 'Cause unless you've slipped past me somehow, I've never seen you here before in my life. I'm only being nice now because you're having a panic attack.”

Zuko's chest constricts. Again, he rests his hand upon his collarbone, tracking the quick thump of his heart. He can feel his pulse in his throat, is made aware of his weakening legs now that he's stood up. His breathing is still slightly laboured, but his confusion has distracted him long enough for his body to settle down for the time being.

“Where are you?” He knows he's being repetitive, but there's nothing else he can think to say right now. He's stood in this forest on his own, and yet there's a random voice talking to him from nowhere. He's starting to wish he'd never left Azula's side.

Another laugh echoes through the trees. Zuko flinches back, tugging his hands into his chest; his palms heat up with the warmth of his powers surging to the surface, but he holds it back – there's no point wasting his energy when he doesn't even know where to use it.

“You're actually kind of cute, you know,” the voice says. “The young prince of the Fire Nation. An idol. Should I feel honoured that I've seen you so vulnerable?”

“Stop playing these games!” Zuko snaps. “Show yourself now, or I'll get the guards out here to take you from this forest by force!”

Another laugh, but it's followed by the crinkle of leaves. Zuko spins around, flames immediately engulfing his hands in preparation for whatever protection he is going to have to give himself.

But then he sees you.

A little shorter than him, smiling manically, half-knelt in a pile of leaves. You're wearing riding gear, a thick leather vest with matching trousers that show Zuko you're from the Earth Kingdom. He's struck with confusion – what is someone from the Earth Kingdom doing in the forests of the Fire Nation?

Slowly you rise. Zuko takes a hesitant step back, but he doesn't feel as threatened as he once did, not now that he can see you.

“I like to make a dramatic entrance every now and then, even though it messes with my knees,” you say, brushing brambles from your trousers. Zuko notices the vines curled round your wrist, disappearing beneath the sleeves of your leather vest. “How do you do, Prince Zuko?”

“What are you doing here?”

You roll your eyes. “Goodness me. Why do you get to ask all the questions and just ignore mine?”

“Because this is my kingdom, and I'd advice you to cooperate before things take a bad turn.”

Your smile wavers. What was once a manic, cheshire-like grin trembles at the edges, and Zuko hates that he feels a little guilty for it; you look to be around his age, dirt smeared across one of your cheeks. There's a leaf sticking from your hair, a sign to Zuko that you've been living rough these past few weeks. Weeks? Years? Zuko can only guess as to how long you've been here.

“Well okay,” you mumble. “Clearly little Prince Flame hasn't taken his afternoon nap.”

“Answer the question.”

“I live here.” You speak through gritted teeth, the first sign of outward annoyance you've given to Zuko since you first appeared.

Zuko narrows his eyes. He still holds flames, but you've long since stopped looking at them. Instead, you focus your eyes on Zuko, and he's shocked to see the confidence there, burning behind your irises. He isn't sure whether you see him as a threat or not, but you're certainly not showing any signs of fear.

Zuko tilts his head. “That isn't possible. We would have known if someone from the Earth Kingdom was living here.”

You shrug. “Take that up with your men. I've been perfectly content living in my trees.”

“I wish you wouldn't call them your trees. This is Fire Nation land, and you're currently trespassing.”

You groan, throwing your head back before you stumble to the side. Zuko takes a step back, holding his hands up a little higher in his attempts to ward you off – in truth, he doesn't even know why he's so fearful. He hasn't seen your power – you might not even be an Earth bender, but there's always a chance.

“You're so boring,” you say. “I personally think the Fire Nation needs a little bit more diversity, don't you?”

Zuko stays silent. Something ticks in his jaw. The mere idea of another one of the kingdoms mingling with the Fire Nation nearly makes him laugh – the Fire Nation doesn't make friends outside of the Fire Nation. That's been a rule for as long as Zuko has been born.

“Of course, it goes both ways,” you continue, lazily waving a hand. You catch a butterfly, uncurl your fingers to reveal it in perfect condition, sitting pleasantly in your palm. “The Fire Nation can come visit the Earth Kingdom whenever they want.” You level a gaze on Zuko. “As long as you're on your best behaviour.”

Zuko swallows. “My sister will be furious if she finds you here.”

“Oh, goody!” you exclaim. “Is Azula coming to visit? Should I put on something a little nicer? How does she like her potatoes cooked?”

Zuko growls. “Do you ever take anything seriously? You do realise you're committing a crime right now, don't you?”

“I've known that for a very long time,” you reply. “I've just grown to not. . . what's the term? Give a shit?”

Zuko's eyes widen. His father taught him how to react in a situation like this – when a commoner is disrespecting him, he has every right to punish them however he pleases, because he's prince and that's one of the perks of being a prince.

But he stares at you now, that smile on your face, the way you walk back and forth in the leaves, and he can't bring himself to say anything. He just watches you closely, hands still engulfed in red hot flames.

He swallows again, flicking a glance over his shoulder. “Do you have a name?”

You pause your pacing, tilting your head. “You have an interest in my name?”

“I have an interest in the names of people who trespass on my land.”

You smirk. “So you've just admitted to me that you're going to use my name against me? Tout to your father, yeah?”

Zuko closes his eyes. “I won't tell my father anything. I just want to know-”

“Y/N.”

His eyes snap open. “Y/N.”

“Y/N L/N of the Earth Kingdom,” you clarify. “Eighteen years old, orphan, run-away, all around bad person.” You stretch your arms out and grin. “What a fine pleasure to have your company in my humble abode, Prince Zuko.”

Zuko silently questions his own sanity when he lowers his hands, dismissing the flames he'd once considered his only protection; now, he doesn't even fully believe you're a threat.

You smile, letting your own hands drop. “Truce?”

“How can you actually live here? How can you really make this place your home?”

“I like nature, Zuko.”

“And I like fire, but I don't live in flames.”

“Then how much can you really like fire?”

Zuko frowns. “You're very weird.”

You chuckle, and it's a pleasant sound that forces Zuko to halt his grin before it becomes obvious. “So I've been told. I think the death of two parents can do that to a person.”

“How did they die?” He isn't sure if this is too personal, if he should just back up and leave the conversation at that – he hasn't had the chance to talk to a normal person in quite a while, and his communication skills have become rusty throughout his time locked behind the mahogany doors of the palace. Sure, he enjoys talking to the maids and the cooks, but how real can a conversation be with someone who works for you?

You continue walking back and forth. You continue to smile. Your voice still holds that humorous edge to it when you say, “The Fire Nation killed them.”

And in that moment, Zuko wishes he had just kept quiet.

His stomach reels. His mouth snaps shut, his prepared follow-up question escaping his mind. He stares at you, how you never once waver, how your smile never flickers, and he wonders of your sanity.

He clenches his fists. “I'm . . . I'm so sorry.”

“It happened a while ago,” you reply, kicking a stone onto the toe of your boot before burying it beneath the leaves. “I don't remember it all that well. I've been told stories, though.” You look at Zuko and slowly shake your head. “Terrible, terrible stories. Nightmare inducing stories. Stories that include your father-”

“I'm sorry.”

You shrug, going back to your pacing. “But what can I do about it now? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

“Y/N...”

“I don't want pity, either. I just want you to turn and leave me to my own devices, in my own little forest, all on my own.” You stare up at the sky. “This is where I belong, Prince Zuko. I'd appreciate it if you respected that.”

Zuko knows this is just an excuse, a way to get him out of your sight so you can go back to breaking the law with no consequences. He knows, as prince, he should be dishing out your punishment and taking pride in doing so, but he can't find the strength. He imagines you, a little baby, so innocent and vulnerable, parentless because of the things his people had done out of pure selfishness.

He bites his lower lip and says no more before backing away. He turns on his heel when it becomes clear you've lost interest in him, slowly making his way back to the palace, back to his life of luxury, back to pretending that everything is fine and the world isn't a corrupt shithole.

---

If there is one thing Firelord Ozai sees as important, it's making his family look as close-knit as possible in the eyes of the Fire Nation.

Meal times are often practice for this kind of thing, and Zuko hates it. Even when the world is not watching their every move, Ozai likes to make sure his two children are pristine and perfect. He shoves all arguments and all tension out of the way, replacing it with a false sense of happiness.

Zuko is ruining that image today, and he can't help it.

It has been three days since he paraded into the woods and found you lurking amongst the brambles. It's been three days since you told him of the happenings that resulted in your parents deaths. It's been three days in which Zuko has been unable to get a grip on his guilt.

He sits at dinner now, his legs folded beneath the table. His shoulders are slumped, and he's been jabbing at his roast beef since he sat down, having yet to touch a single fine cuisine on his plate; it's an expensive dish, but he can't even bring himself to be grateful for it.

Azula coughs. “Father. Surely you've noticed Zuko's a little down in the dumps recently?”

Zuko has to resist the urge to kick his sister. At the head of the table, Ozai frowns, fork lifted halfway to his mouth as his eyes settle on his youngest son, his biggest disappointment. Zuko doesn't even look up from his plate, but instead tries to make himself look as inconspicuous as possible by scooping a pile of peas into his mouth and straightening his shoulders in the most subtle manner he can manage.

Ozai slowly lays his fork across his plate and forms a tent with his fingers. “Is this true, Zuko?”

Zuko wants to scream that Ozai doesn't really care, because he doesn't. The Firelord has put him through hell from the moment he was born – he only wants to keep up appearances. He wants to play Happy Families whilst his men and his army go out and destroy real happy families for the sake of rank and reputation.

The realisation burns bile into the back of Zuko's throat. He swallows it down, looks up at his father and says, “I'm fine. I don't know what Azula's talking about.”

“Oh, but look!” Azula waves a hand over Zuko's packed dinner plate. “He's barely touched what the chefs have so kindly served him today. Usually he's the first one finished.”

Only because I want to get away quicker, Zuko thinks.

Ozai raises a brow. “This is true. Has something been heavy on your mind recently, Zuko?”

Zuko shakes his head, chewing on a bit of roast beef purely as an excuse to not answer. His voice will break. His father will know.

But his father knows anyway. Ozai always knows.

“I don't like it when you lie to me, son.” His voice is low, heavy. “There's too much mistrust in your heart, and it's a problem.”

“I don't mistrust anyone,” Zuko says. “I'm just not hungry. I've been feeling a little bit ill.”

Azula snorts, opens her mouth to say something, but Ozai raises a hand and she goes silent immediately.

“How can you ever expect to rule over the Fire Nation if you can't even handle a simple stomach bug?”

Zuko's head snaps up. “Father, really. I'm just-”

“Do you expect me to hand over everything I've worked for to a boy? A boy who is bed-ridden at the first sign of an ache?”

“I'm fine, father. I just don't feel like-”

Ozai stands up. Zuko doesn't understand why he is so angry, why the conversation has taken such a sudden and twisted turn. “I am paying people to train you into a Firelord, Zuko, and clearly they are not doing a very good job.”

Zuko's eyes widen. “They're doing a wonderful job, father. You're right. You're absolutely right. I need to-”

But Ozai is already clicking his fingers, and servants are already rushing inside the dining hall. Azula stifles her laughter beneath a gloved hand. Zuko's heart thunders in his chest, a million miles per hour, a million thoughts that he cannot bring himself to organise.

A servant named Beatrice arrives at Ozai's side first. The Firelord doesn't even look at her when he says, “Find Zuko's tutors and kill them. They're not doing their job. They've wasted my hard earned money, and I won't have it.”

Zuko belches. “Father, no. Please!”

Beatrice looks between father and son, her eyes wide.

Ozai clicks his fingers and points to the door. “I've given my orders. Now go, or else you'll be facing the same fate.”

Beatrice squeaks, bows and scrambles out of the room. Zuko can only stare after her, hands trembling in his lap – that feeling is coming back, that thumping of his heart, the sweat pooling in his palms. His breathing will disappear soon, become some ragged thing that causes physical pain in his chest. Soon, he won't be able to hide it and he'll be back to square one.

But he can't stop trembling. He can't stop the screams that echo in the back of his mind, the image of his tutors – tutors who have worked so hard to help him become someone he was never meant to be – being brutally slaughtered because Zuko had one bad day.

Ozai's face is stone. He stares dead ahead, sniffles and says, “Dinner dismissed. Both of you, go to your rooms. I don't want to see you for the rest of the night.”

Zuko pushes his chair back and darts out of the dining hall, his stomach reeling even though there's barely anything there. Servants ask after him, unaware of the brutalities happening to their co-workers in the next house over. He ignores them, feeling nothing but relief when he finally bursts into his room and locks the door.

He crumbles to his knees as soon as the door is closed. His body deflates, and a sob erupts. He claps a hand over his mouth, squeezes his eyes closed, says a silent prayer that someone will have mercy on them poor souls, poor, poor souls.

He knows it's useless.

It's useless, and he needs something. He needs something, anything to get his mind off it. He can't be in this palace. He can't sit there and listen to the casual chatter of the servants outside the door, the casual patter of footsteps in the hallway coming from people who are either oblivious or just don't care.

So he gets up and climbs out his window. His legs are too long and his movements are too clumsy, and he ends up kicking the window beneath his own. He quickens his pace when this happens, knowing time is dwindling, knowing it won't be long before whoever occupies that room comes knocking on his door to ask if he's alright – he should probably just climb back inside and feign ignorance. It would be the safer option.

But as soon as his feet touch the soft brambles, he's running towards the woods and he can't stop even if he tried to. His lungs are burning after only a few seconds, despite his skilled stamina – he's having a panic attack. The running is not helping, but he can feel the stress leaking from his system and he savours that feeling of deflation even as his lungs burn and scream for a mercy he cannot give them because he does not deserve it.

Lives are being taken because of him. What right does he have to be treated kindly, even by himself?

Soon, Zuko finds himself surrounded by the familiar greenery he was caged in only three days ago. He falls against the wall, presses his hands into his eyes and says, “No, no, no.”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

Zuko doesn't flinch this time, because he knows who it is. He wanted you to appear. He wants to hear your voice.

He doesn't look up. It takes you a moment, but you finally drop from the canopy and land in front of him; he can't see you, but he feels you staring at him.

A branch pokes him in the leg.

“You look a little down, Princeling.”

Zuko opens his mouth to say something, but words fail him. He instead digs his fingers into his eye sockets a little more, as if this will push all the memories and all the thoughts to the back of his mind – yet another array of horrors he will be forced to deal with later.

You hum. “Okay, you look a lot down. What happened? Was the steak not medium rare?”

Zuko doesn't respond. He senses your hesitancy when you slowly kneel down in front of him, gets a shock when your hand rests on his knee.

“Hey. Look up.”

Zuko does just that. His eyes meet your own, and he's startled to see you're not smiling. It takes him a minute to even realise you're the same person he spoke to three days ago. You don't quite look the same when you're not grinning from ear to ear, spewing some stupid information that Zuko really doesn't need to know.

Now, you've got your head tilted and your lips are pursed, and you look genuinely worried for him.

“Did you know,” you begin, voice a mere mumble, “that people from the Earth Kingdom are actually really, really good listeners?”

Zuko's heart lifts. His voice is croaky when he replies. “I didn't know that, no.”

You shift until you're sitting beside him, shoulder pressed against his own. The two of you stare into the forest, the darkness slowly taking shape between the trees as night falls upon the forever glowing Fire Kingdom. Back in the city, people will be lighting lanterns with their hands. His father will be getting ready to address his people – his worshippers – for their good night call.

“Well we are.” You stretch your legs out in front of you and tap Zuko's knee, gesturing for him to do the same. He hesitates before lowering his legs onto the grass, stretching them out so they surpass your own, exaggerating the height difference between you both.

You frown. “That's not fair.”

“I think good height runs in the family.”

You swat his shoulder. “What do you mean, good height? Do you think being short is bad height?”

Despite himself, Zuko smiles. “Your words, not mine.”

You scoff, folding your arms over your chest. “And here I was thinking you were a better man than your father.”

Zuko's smile collapses. His heart collapses. His fathers words slam back into his mind, and tears are suddenly rising to the surface.

He looks away, tries to hide them, but you're much quicker than he is. You lean forward, catching his eyes just seconds before the realisation seems to dawn on you. Your own eyes widen, jaw dropping open for a second.

“Zuko. Woah, okay. What's the matter? Did I say something?”

Zuko swipes a hand beneath his eyes, shaking his head. “It's nothing.”

“That's clearly not true.” You move in front of him, knees pressing into the dirt but you don't seem to care. You continue trying to catch his eye, fingers tightening on his knees which are, again, pressed into his chest. “Zuko, why are you here? What happened?”

“What happened,” Zuko whispers. “What happened, you ask. What happened, Y/N, is what always happens!”

You flinch back at the steady rise of his voice. “I don't understand.”

Zuko clenches his jaw. “It's all my fault.”

“Zuko, you're not making any sense-”

“They're dead, and it's all my fault!” He isn't sure where it comes from, but a roar of frustration is pulled from his mouth. His hands erupt into flames. You gasp, pulling away from him as he throws the fire against a nearby tree.

It goes up in flames.

Zuko's eyes widen. “Oh, sh-”

You throw your hands out, and immediately the flames are dispelled. You don't even look towards the tree you've just saved, instead keeping your gaze steady on Zuko.

He looks back at you, eyes wide. “I'm so sorry.”

“You're angry, is what you are,” you correct, crawling back towards him. “Put those hands away, will you? And take some deep breaths, for the love of god.”

Zuko trembles. “They're dead, Y/N. Because of me.”

“You're still not making any sense.”

“Do I have to? I think I like it more when people can't understand what I'm saying – it makes it less difficult to mess up.”

You frown. “Well, that's not a very good way to live your life.”

“It's better than what life is like now.”

“In what way?”

You don't tell him he's wrong. You don't call him crazy for thinking like this. You don't look at him like he's got three heads, or like he's some deity, and maybe that's why Zuko's breathing goes back to normal, why he looks you in the eye when he explains the entire situation.

You nod along to his words, letting him know you're listening even when the story gets hard to tell. Zuko's throat closes up when he describes his fathers voice and the anger, and how he could do nothing about it. He's been trained from such a young age to never defy his father – the scar on his face is enough proof of what will happen to him if he steps out of line.

When Zuko is finished, he looks away. You go quiet. The only sound is the pleasant chipper of the insects burrowing in the grass; not even the birds are out, having long since taken the darkness as a sign to settle down for the evening.

Finally, you sigh and say, “Sounds like a tough night.”

“I should have done more,” Zuko croaks out. “I just wish I knew how to.”

“You were scared.”

Zuko flinches. Another thing his father has taught him – it's not right for the future Firelord to be scared of anything. This mindset alone drives Zuko into stupor, a sudden overwhelming urge to defend his own bravery rising to the surface.

But he looks into your face, and you're smiling a little bit, a little softly, and your head is tilted as you wait for his response. You don't mean any harm by your words – you're just telling the truth.

Zuko looks back down. “I am. Very scared.”

“That's alright,” you say. “Ozai is a scary man. Or so I've heard. I haven't really seen him in person, and I don't like to judge people, but he did order the death of my parents, so I think I have a right to say that.”

Zuko flinches again. “It's terrible what he's doing, but you can't blame yourself for his evil, Zuko. You're just a boy-”

“I'm meant to rule this kingdom when he passes on.”

“Bloody hell, one can only hope that's sooner rather than later, eh?” You nudge Zuko, laughing. He just glares at you. You snap your mouth shut and utter, “Sorry.”

“What happens if I end up like him?”

You raise a brow. “What? Killing innocents?”

Zuko nods, swallowing the golf ball sized lump in his throat. He's never spoken about this to anyone; he isn't sure why he thinks talking about it with you is a good idea, but the words are coming far more easily than they ever have before. He kind of wants to savour it while it lasts.

“Zuko.” His name is a sigh when you say it. “I know you're upset, but that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.”

His eyes snap up. “Why is it?”

“Because you're in this state.” You gesture towards him, pointing out his curled form, the tear stains on his cheeks, the way his hair is sticking up in all directions. “If someone else being a monster disturbs you this much, I think you'll be driven to insanity if you were to do it yourself.”

“But I'm his son-”

“Don't remind me. I might be forced to wipe you out.”

Zuko closes his eyes. “It's just a fear of mine. I don't think it's irrational.”

“No fears are irrational. Some are just . . . more justified than others.”

Zuko sighs and leans his head back against the wall. It really is getting late, and he knows his disappearance from the palace will soon be noted, that he will be in big trouble when he gets back, but he doesn't want to leave. Your hands are still resting on his knees, and he uses that as his excuse to stay seated on the grassy floor – you're keeping him there. You and you alone, and maybe there's more truth to that statement than he wants to believe.

Zuko doesn't open his eyes when you start moving around. He feels your back press against his feet when you spread out on the grass, and when he finally looks down, he can't help his flicker of amusement at the sight of you laying on your back in the leaves, looking up at the moon. Only one side of your face is completely illuminated, your hair trickling out around you. Zuko takes a strand of it, curls it around his finger.

“Whenever you become Firelord,” you begin, voice quiet, “you won't forget me, will you?”

The question is so startling, but there's a peaceful ring to it that stops Zuko from flinching away. “Whenever I become Firelord,” he replies softly, “you'll come and live in the city. You'll have your own little cottage.”

“Can I have pets?”

“As many as you want.”

“And plants?”

“Of course.”

You hum, closing your eyes. “Yes. Let's hope Ozai carks it sooner rather than later.”

---

Zuko's life inside the city does not improve, but at least he's found an escape.

He doesn't like being driven to the point where he feels he must leave his home to be peaceful. He hates that his chambers are no longer good enough, that the only person who can chase his sour thoughts away is a criminal, living illegally in the woods of the kingdom he is meant to rule over in a few years time.

It makes him feel so weak, like perhaps he isn't up for the job he's been trained for his entire life.

This mindset does not stop him, however. Feeling weak and inadequate is nothing in comparison to the haunting helplessness he feels when he's left alone with his own thoughts; you're the only person who can chase those away right now, and Zuko isn't ashamed to admit it.

He also isn't ashamed to admit that these past few weeks have directed him to feelings he never thought safe to feel. He still doesn't think they're very wise, still thinks he doesn't deserve them. That pleasant little fluttering that springs up in his chest when you laugh – what has he ever done to deserve that? Nothing. He's the prince, and that's it. He's a title, a face to flaunt until his real duties begin, and even then, it will always be the commoners doing the hard work.

But he can't help it, and he's too tired nowadays to fight it off.

He walks through the woods once again, leaving the flames behind. The lanterns have been lit earlier than usual tonight, so Zuko has to duck behind carriages and bushes on his way to visit you, lest he be seen by night time dawdlers.

He gets there eventually, though, and his hardship with getting here in the first place all seems worth it as soon as you hop down from your tree and land in front of him, that manic smile plastered on your face.

This time, he smiles back.

“Oh, would you look at that,” you exclaim, poking the corner of his mouth. “You look particularly pleased tonight, Princeling.”

“I am. And you will be, too.”

You raise a brow. Zuko tries not to blush under your gaze as he gets to work setting up everything he managed to bring with him tonight – a blanket, stolen from the back of one of the expensive sofas in the lounge room; some fruit cut up into tiny squares; slices of fresh ham, stolen from the kitchens without the cooks even realising Zuko had paid them a visit. He even took the risk of pinching a few of the freshest slices of bread, and he lays them out on the blanket now, his fingers tingling from the cold. A little bit of extra thought sends flames through his bone marrow, warming his hands up enough to allow him to set the food out in a nice array.

He looks up and grins when he's finished. You look back down at him, one eyebrow still raised, your hands on your hips.

“And you go on at me for being a criminal.”

Zuko rolls his eyes, grabs your hand and drags you down beside him. You laugh, knees clashing against the blanket, and Zuko watches you shuffle closer to the basket to get a closer look; so often you pretend this kind of thing does not affect you, but Zuko can see the small smile playing on your face, the way your fingers trace idly over the goods he's brought.

It warms his heart.

“You can dig in, you know,” says Zuko. “I brought it for you.”

“All of it for me?”

Zuko shrugs. “I was hoping we could have a bit of a midnight picnic. No one will miss this stuff back at the palace.”

You grunt before grabbing a slice of ham. Zuko joins you, and the two of you chat and joke as you fill your mouths with sandwiches and fruit, vegetables cut into little strips that make you laugh because you feel like a little kid again, pinching carrot sticks from the vegetable platter your mother always had out for guests. Zuko listens to you retelling these stories of your childhood, listening for any sign of sadness in your voice, any sign of resentment, but there is none. You laugh and throw your head back, and your eyes twinkle in amusement; you talk about your parents like they're still alive. You talk to Zuko about your parents, as if he isn't part of the Fire Nation, a crucial cog in the machine that once killed the people you love.

With a mouthful of apple chunks, you say, “My mum would have loved you, I think.”

Zuko pauses. “Really?” He can't think of a single reason as to why anyone would love him.

“Yeah,” you reply. “'Cause you're nice, and you treat me well. Honestly, my mum wasn't hard to impress from what I've heard – all you needed was good manners and a good attitude towards her kids, and she was basically adopting you for herself.”

Zuko smiles. “She sounds lovely.”

“I'm sure she was.” You pluck at a piece of lettuce, caught between two slices of bread. “I think I would have liked to know her in person, not just through what other people have told me.”

Zuko swallows the lump in his throat and looks up at the moon. “She's watching over you.”

“You think so?”

He points towards the sky. You tilt your head, following his directions. “My uncle Iroh always tells me to look up at the moon when I miss someone I've lost. He told me that's where all the good souls go – to the moon.”

You chuckle quietly. “Not the stars?”

“No. The moon. They're all up there, like little astronauts. Living amongst the rocks and the craters.”

It goes quiet then. Zuko looks over, his heart thumping a little when he sees you, head tilted towards the sky, eyes closed. He wants to kiss you so badly right now, but he holds himself back. He watches you from afar, and that's good enough.

You inhale deeply before opening your eyes, a slow flutter of eyelashes, accentuated by the slow pull of a smile forming on your face. You turn to Zuko and say, “Your uncle is a wise man. I'd love to meet him some day. When I'm allowed in the city.”

Zuko nods. He doesn't know why, because he knows it will be a mighty long time before you can ever step foot in the city walls, before he can ever show you off to his family and friends. He nods, but it's more of a hopeful thing rather than an agreement. You smile sadly and turn back to the food, and Zuko knows you understand.

---

Zuko is smiling.

Perhaps this is the first red flag that sparks in the back of his uncles head. Perhaps Zuko's happiness is enough to make his uncle – and everyone around him – suspicious.

But Zuko doesn't even care. It's dark, the city lit up only by the lanterns flickering along the street. A few drunken party-goers stumble along, but the light is too dim and their vision is too skewed for any of them to take notice of the prince walking amongst them – strolling amongst them, shoulders drawn back, a tiny smile playing on his face. His eyes are glittering. His heart is full, and for the first time in a very, very long time, Zuko doesn't feel like curling up and hiding from the world.

Until he hears Iroh's voice.

He was made aware of his uncles impending city visit a few days prior, but had been much too distracted by a certain Earth bender to make arrangements. His heart plummets when he hears it, the smooth way his name is spoken from lips withered by age and too much smiling.

Zuko freezes in the middle of the street, hands stuffed in his pockets. It's such an un-princely way to stand, and maybe that's the second red flag Iroh catches onto. Iroh has always known Zuko better than his own father. Zuko has no doubt in his mind that the old man can see some discrepancies in the way Zuko is carrying himself.

“It's a bit late to be out, isn't it? You'll catch a cold.” Iroh slowly emerges from beneath a bridge. He's smiling – as per usual – and his hands are tucked into the oversized sleeves of his grey robe – as per usual.

Zuko turns his head slightly and says, “Uncle. I think the same could be said for you.”

“I'm fine,” says Iroh. “I've got an excuse to tell Ozai when I get back. You, however, look like you just plan on throwing caution to the wind.”

That's exactly what Zuko plans on doing.

“I was just going for a midnight walk.”

Iroh narrows his eyes. Zuko shifts under his gaze, suddenly desperate to get away.

“The palace guards permitted that?”

Anger edges under Zuko's breastbone. “The palace guards permit whatever I tell them to permit.”

Iroh hums. “I believe they permit what your father tells them to permit, and Ozai certainly wouldn't permit you free reign of the city in the middle of the night.” Zuko's shoulders slump. He turns to fully face his uncle. “Don't tell anyone.”

“Where were you, Zuko?”

“The – The woods. I was in the woods.”

Iroh's eyebrows shoot up. “What did you see in the woods that has you smiling so big?”

There's no going back now – Iroh has noticed his expression. Whatever explanation Zuko gives now will drive him deeper and deeper into the mud, and he isn't sure he can afford that with his status. He looks back at Iroh and hollows out his cheeks – this is the man who knows him better than he knows himself. If he can't trust Iroh, then who on this earth can he trust?

“I was visiting a friend.”

Iroh pauses. “Friend? You have friends?”

“Uncle!”

“I'm just curious! Why can't this friend of yours see you – oh, I don't know – in the day time?”

“They're not exactly allowed within the city walls,” Zuko mumbles.

Iroh, again, pauses. During this stretch of silence, Zuko's stomach turns itself inside out. He clenches his fists at his side, resists the urge to tell his uncle to mind his own business, because that's what the old Zuko would have done. The young Zuko, the one with so much unaccounted for rage. Now, however, Zuko is trying to keep himself calm, taking deep breaths as he waits for his uncle to say something – anything.

Finally, Iroh says, “Ah.”

Zuko's eyes snap up. “What? You won't tell my father, will you?”

“The Firelord will find out eventually. I know my brother well, Zuko, and fugitives living on his land-”

“Y/N isn't a fugitive,” Zuko insists. “They're not causing any harm. In fact, them woods would be nothing but smithereens by now if they weren't there.”

“Is that right?”

“And they're kind, too, Uncle. They have this wonderful way with words. They make me feel so normal, and – and I haven't known what that feels like for so, so long.” Zuko shakes his head. “You have to promise me you won't speak a word of this to. . .”

Zuko glances down at his uncle and trails off. Iroh is staring up at him, an amused smile pulled tight across his face. His eyes are crinkled into crescents, cheeks flushing red with the effort it takes to suppress a burst of laughter.

Zuko steps back, folding his arms over his chest. “Don't look at me like that.”

“I'm not looking at you like that.”

“Yes you are! You look like you're going to laugh in my face.”

“Why do you always have to rip the joy out of the worlds greatest things?”

Zuko groans. “Just promise me-”

“So this Y/N person makes you happy?”

Zuko pauses. He isn't sure why the question makes his heart lurch in his throat, why he's suddenly swarmed with embarrassed butterflies. Slowly he lowers his hand against his abdomen, biting his lower lip as he processes how to answer without throwing himself completely into the deep end.

But then he thinks of your face, and your smile, and the feel of your hands against his because Zuko warms you up when it's just a little bit too chilly for an Earth bender. He counts how many nights he's sat in bed, counting down the seconds until he hears his fathers chamber door close so he can hop out of his own room and see you.

“Yes.” His voice is a croak, barely there, like he's been screaming into the void for the past ten minutes. “Yes, Y/N makes me very happy.”

Iroh steps forward, places a heavy hand on Zuko's shoulder. “Get to bed, Zuko. I'll keep this between us.”

Zuko looks up. “Uncle. . . If anything happens to Y/N, I don't think I'll be able to forgive myself. I don't think I'll be able to come out of that.”

“I understand. No harm will come to your – what did you call them? Friend?”

Zuko blushes. “Friend.”

Iroh smiles, small and subtle. “No harm will come to your friend.”

---

The crowd screams.

Zuko closes his eyes, trailing a hand through his black hair in any attempt to tame it from the bed-head he's been cursed with this morning. It's eleven am, and Zuko overslept due to his late night endeavours. His father had been furious, his sister had been suspicious, but neither of them had time to chastise him.

Now, he stands by the balcony and waits for the signal to start.

Azula stands beside him, fixing her make up using the reflection from an empty platter. Her hair, as per usual, is done to perfection, piled a top her head, kept in place by an abundance of hair pins hidden beneath her dark locks. Zuko looks at her and scowls – he's never been able to pull himself together in quite the same way.

Ozai stands by the balcony doors, getting ready to present himself to the people screaming his name outside. They all hate him; Zuko knows this for a fact. They hate his cruelty and how they have to tiptoe around their own lives to ensure they don't make him angry – but they show up in their numbers anyway, because there's a chance of them getting slaughtered if they don't.

“You don't look prepared.”

Zuko looks towards Azula. “What?”

She gestures to his clothes. He's wearing his fire robes, though they've shifted a little, revealing a lick of collarbone that he awkwardly stuffs back into his collar. “You look like you've just crawled out of bed, Zuko.”

“Because I have.”

“You say that like it's a good thing.” Azula rises to her full height. “Do you go out of your way to embarrass this family, or does it just happen?”

“I slept in. It was an accident.”

“Mm.” Azula flicks his ear. “Make sure it doesn't happen again.”

Before Zuko can reply, the announcer is calling them forward. Ozai does only a single swift check of his shoulder, making sure all his ducks are in a row, before the balcony doors are thrown open and Zuko and his family march in front of the waiting crowd. The screams get impossibly louder. The world shrinks to this moment and this moment only, and Zuko feels his cheeks glowing bright red under the critical gaze of complete strangers.

He concentrates on his breathing, even as he waves and smiles to the people staring up at him. He has to, or else he'll lose it – he lost it last time. He can't afford to make a fool of himself now.

Ozai speaks into the microphone, voice booming across the screaming crowd. Zuko stands straight backed, arms behind his back, his breath skipping every few seconds-

Then his eyes meet yours.

His smile falls. In one second, the demeanour he's been trying to build up, the charade he's been trying to play is completely wiped out and replaced by terror, confusion, panic, all rolled into one. His breathing leaves him in a single breath. Azula glances at him, raises a brow, hisses a warning under her breath, but Zuko can barely hear her over the sound of his own heartbeat.

You're stood near the front, hands curled around the barriers. By your side is Iroh. He's leaned in, whispering in your ear, talking to you like you're a good friend. You're no longer wearing the vest and the trousers that made you stick out as an Earth bender, but instead wear a pair of oversized Fire Nation robes. There's still a leaf in your hair. Zuko wants to laugh.

But he doesn't. Honestly, he can do nothing but stare, the crowd making him feel claustrophobic. He wants to be down there. He wants to be beside you. He wants to know how in the hell Iroh managed to get you past the city guards, why he bothered to get you past the city guards.

His father continues speaking. Zuko fiddles with his thumbs behind his back, waiting for the moment he can scramble off stage and meet you in the middle; you're looking up at him, a grin on your face as Iroh whispers in your ear. Iroh suddenly turns and points in Zuko's direction, but you're already looking at him and Zuko's eyes meet your own, and it's really like nothing else in the world exists.

Zuko can't contain his excitement. A slow smile stretches across his lips, one you return almost immediately. You bounce on your heels, grabbing Iroh's sleeve and pointing up at Zuko, and he risks it all by giving you a little wave – you grin even brighter and wave back.

That's what cracks him.

He turns to Azula before he can think better of it, leaning in to whisper, “I'll be right back.” There is no chance for her to ask what he is doing, because Zuko has already turned and is speeding back through the palace, making his way through crowds upon crowds of special guards, and cooks who call his name with the same confused tenderness they've always given him. He rushes right past them, darts through the back doors of his home-

Iroh is already one step ahead.

At the end of the back alley behind the palace, Iroh ushers you forward. You look up, eyes meeting Zuko's, and then you yelp, sprinting towards him. Zuko laughs when he catches you, arms wrapping round your waist, body moulding into yours like he was made to be in this exact position. You nuzzle your head in his neck, arms wrapped right around his shoulders.

Nothing else exists. Nothing else in the world.

“You're here,” Zuko breathes against your neck. “How are you here?”

“Iroh found me,” you reply. There's something in your voice – not exactly emotion, but something similar, something that tugs at Zuko's heart and makes him tighten his grip. “He said he could – he could disguise me, or something. I'm not gonna lie, Zuko, I thought he was mental.”

“A lot of people do.” Zuko draws away first, glancing at Iroh who stands to the side. The thing about Iroh is, he never gets awkward. He stands around whilst his nephew and this complete stranger hug and greet each other in a more-than-friendly manner, and he just looks proud. He looks on with a small smile on his face, hands folded in front of him, not a care in the world.

Zuko clasps him on the shoulder. “How did you know where to go?”

“Because I know you, Zuko.” And it's such an Iroh response – it doesn't even need a reply.

Zuko turns back to you. His eyes click with yours, and he can't help it when he reaches forward and brushes a stray strand of hair away from your neck. You close your eyes, a rare and brief moment of vulnerability – it's nice. Zuko feels like he can protect you when you're like this.

“I want to show you everything,” he says.

Your eyes flick open. “I want to see everything.”

“Come on. Before my father finishes his speech.” Zuko grabs your hand and darts back into the palace – there is no shame in his movements, not like he once expected there to be. Now, he parades through the cooks and the cleaners and the royal guards, and he introduces you to each and every one of them. His hand remains in yours, and you do not fight to remove it.

You instead look on in awe, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. Zuko stares at you any chance he can get, marvelling the way such little things take you by surprise – the vase Zuko has seen everyday for the past eighteen years forces a gasp from your lips. You trail your fingers along the mahogany wood that Zuko once believed to be distasteful. You sigh in pleasure when sinking down into the sofa that Zuko thought was getting a little worn out from time and well-use.

Finally, however, Zuko leads you to his bedroom, and his nerves return.

He feels stupid for being nervous. He's an eighteen year old man, soon to be the Firelord of his own nation. Bringing someone special – are you someone special? - into his rooms should not be something that fazes him, but it is. The butterflies crawl into his stomach, and he has to drop your hand to disguise the sweat that sheens along his palm. You glance at him, raise a brow.

“Problem, Princeling?” Zuko purses his lips. You tilt your head. “What's behind that door that's got you so nervous?”

“I'm not nervous,” Zuko lies. “I was just – uh – this is my bedroom.”

You nod like it's no big deal, standing there expectantly. Zuko glares at you for a second longer, because he's fully aware that you know exactly why he's nervous – you're just choosing not to say anything, refusing to put him out of his misery in that blunt way you always seem to manage.

He sighs. “You'll kill me one day.”

“Shall we go in or do you just want to show me a picture?”

Zuko pushes the door open. You step inside before him, surprising the prince when you reach back and grab his hand, dragging him in after you. He's been in his room every single day, often locks himself inside just to clear his head, but he's looking at it behind a completely new lens now; he becomes aware of the small mess cluttering the corner, the little bottle of ink on his desk that has fingerprint smudges wrapped round it, the single sandal thrown carelessly to the side as he had no time to put it away this morning.

And then there's you, standing amongst all of it. Already your fingers are trailing along the dark red wallpaper, eyes scanning the double bed with it's slightly creased sheets and abundance of pillows. There's a tiny smile on your face.

You turn. “My aunt used to tell me that a bedroom is the window to someone's soul.”

Zuko blushes. “I think your aunt was mistaken. I haven't had a single say in the running of this room since I was born.”

“No, no. I think she was right.” You point to the sandal. “Clearly you were in a rush this morning.”

“My bedhead would have been enough to give that away.”

You step towards him and run your hands through his dark hair. Zuko scrunches up his nose, glaring, pretending he doesn't love the feel of your fingers scratching against his scalp, pretending he doesn't love your body being so close to his.

“I like bedhead on you, Princeling,” you say softly. “It makes you look a little less perfect.”

Zuko raises a brow. “And that's a good thing?”

“It is when you spend your whole life looking pristine.”

“I don't look pristine all the time.”

“That's a lie.”

“Should I be taking this conversation as a compliment?”

You grin. It's only then does Zuko realise your fingers are still embedded in his hair, and your body is still dangerously, dangerously close to his own. His fingers twitch, the sudden urge to draw you closer flooding him in two seconds flat. It's difficult to keep himself contained when he can smell the earth and the soil on your clothes – your Fire Nation clothes.

He looks down and plucks at the red collar of your robes. “Iroh did a good job with this.”

You pull away. Zuko has to bite his lip to hide his disappointment, though the disappointment dwindles when you twirl for him, robes billowing out around you. “You like them?”

“You're just the kind of person who suits everything, I think.”

You scoff. “You know, me calling you perfect wasn't me trying to get a compliment out of you.”

“I complimented you because I'm a nice person.” He pauses. “And because it's true – you do suit everything.”

You hum, glancing down at your new wardrobe. “I appreciate it. It doesn't really feel right, though. I kind of miss my Earth Kingdom clothes.”

“Of course.” Zuko takes your hand. “You won't have to wear Fire Nation robes forever. We can go back to me visiting you, and then-”

Your head snaps up. “You're not sending me off already, are you?”

Zuko's eyes widen. “What? No, of course not! I just thought-”

“You made such a big deal about me coming into your room, and you're already planning my departure.” You pull your hand from his, folding your arms over your chest. “I feel betrayed.”

Zuko glares; you're doing it again, teasing him. Teasing him because you're you, and that's what you do, but teasing him because he's easily teased, and you know that. You know that, because he's opened up to you in ways he's never opened up to anybody in his entire life.

He loves you. He knows he loves you. He's known from the moment he realised he couldn't wait to see you again, couldn't wait to risk everything by climbing out his window in the middle of the night just to see if you were still awake somewhere, waiting for him.

He stares at you now, examines the amused smile on your face as you wait for whatever flustered reply he always gives. You fluster him so easily, and yet Zuko has never been good at that kind of thing.

He gives it a go now.

He grabs your hand, draws you forward and kisses you.

He only meant for it to be a short peck, something to get a feel for the waters. But your response is too quick, and you're melting against him much faster than he expected, and he's plummeting, plummeting, lost in seconds.

He doesn't register the moment your hands start trailing through his hair. He doesn't register the moment you start pushing against him, guiding him deeper into his own room as if you own the place. He doesn't register the moment he spins and presses you against the wall, his lips still moulding into your own.

Suddenly it's just happening. Suddenly his stomach is just in knots, and Zuko realises with a start that he's dug himself far, far too deep into this hole, and there's no going back. He's fallen in love with someone from the Earth Kingdom. He's fallen in love with someone he has no chance of ever being with.

But even as the thought passes through his head, he pushes it away. He's Prince Zuko; he's the shy, easily-embarrassed, anxiety-filled prince that his own nation mocks, but he gets what he wants. Perhaps it's the spoilt rich-kid side of him that has gifted him this drive, or maybe it's just his lips on your own, but he swears to every god that has ever witnessed his life unfold that he will keep you with him. He will not let anything bad happen to you.

You pull away first, a splutter escaping that you quickly silence by pecking his lips one final time. Zuko laughs against this tiny kiss, chasing your lips when you pull away. You place a hand on his chest and say, “Give me a minute.”

“Good?”

“Unexpected.” You fan yourself. For the first time, Zuko has made you flustered. He beams, and you glare at him. “Don't do that! You could have said something first!”

Zuko curls a strand of your hair around his finger. “That would have ruined the surprise.”

“Has anyone ever had the nerve to tell you just how much of an ass you are?”

Zuko grins, slowly leans forward and pecks your lips. “Only you.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the chance is stolen when Zuko's bedroom door opens and a royal guard steps inside. Zuko scrambles back, running a hand through his mussed-up hair; you stay against the wall, hands curled against your chest, an amused grin forming on your face.

The royal guard raises a brow, glancing between the two of you. Zuko claps his hands to get his attention back. “What do you want?”

“Uh...” The guard shakes his head. “Your father's finished his speech and wants to speak with you. As soon as possible, if you will.”

Zuko's heart thunders, only this time it isn't because he's holding you in his arms. He glances over his shoulder; you meet his eyes, raise a slow brow in a silent offer. You're telling him you'll leave. You're telling him you don't mind going back into those woods, living the rest of your life in the trees you seem so attached to. You're telling him you don't mind, but your hands are trembling against your chest, and then you take a slow step towards him, curling your arm against the small of his back.

He knows you don't really want to go. He doesn't want you to go, either.

Zuko turns back to the guard and says, “I'll be there in a minute. Tell him I won't be on my own.”

The guards eyes widen. “Prince Zuko-”

“This isn't a debate. Deliver my message, and I'll make my way to the throne room as soon as possible. As requested.”

The guard swallows, flicks one final gaze in your direction before he bows and exits the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Zuko deflates as soon as he hears the click, slumping back against your warmth. You catch him, curling an arm around his middle, pressing your face into his spine.

“Don't do anything you'll regret, Zuko. I won't have it.”

“Do you want to stay here?”

You pause. “I want to stay with you.”

Zuko's heart soars. He gently touches the hand you have against his stomach, intertwining fingers. “Then it's decided. You'll stay with me.”

----

Zuko has never brought someone home to meet his parents. Zuko has never had anyone to bring home.

A summer fling here and there, a young romance sprouting from the casual touch of fingers, people finding him attractive because he has the word 'prince' tacked on to his name; none of it really meant anything. He never once thought these relationships would grow into something worth flaunting in front of his father.

Now, he holds your hand and walks into the throne room, unsure how to introduce you, unsure what this is. He's kissed you once. He's felt the affect you have on him, but is that enough for him to label this as a relationship? Will his father even approve?

Does he need his fathers approval?

Zuko shakes his head, hollowing out his cheeks as you and him enter the throne room. Ozai has yet to appear, though there are two guards flanking either side of the single throne set upon the dais; there used to be two, but since the death of Zuko's mother, Ozai has removed his mothers throne. More space for his power to radiate.

You squeeze Zuko's hand, lowering your voice to a whisper when you say, “Is that air conditioning I feel?”

“You don't have to try and lighten the mood.”

You frown, pulling away. “Fine. But just so you know, you look like you're going to burst a blood vessel.”

Zuko opens his mouth to respond, but the door on the other side of the room is thrown open before he gets a chance to. His father says nothing. His face is stone, passive as he approaches his throne and sits down. His hands curl round the curved ends of the arm rests, and he stares directly at Zuko.

Zuko knows what to do. He's been trained for this his entire life, so it comes naturally to him when he lets go of your hand and steps forward, dropping to one knee. You stare at him with an open mouth, unsure of what to do, but Zuko does not put that burden on you – he lets you stand.

Ozai says, “Up.”

Zuko rises. “Father. You requested to see me.”

“That I did,” says Ozai. Zuko's stomach turns when he notices Ozai's eyes haven't left you. “I asked for my son, and my son alone. Where was the message distorted?”

“Nowhere,” says Zuko. He takes a step back and wraps an arm around your waist, feeling immediately guilt when your tense body presses against his; he left your side for only a second, but it's clear you're terrified. “I wanted to introduce you to Y/N. I wanted to talk to you about some arrangements.”

Ozai's left eye twitches. “Zuko, this talk wasn't for you to orchestrate. You left the balcony during the morning announcements. You embarrassed your sister and I, and now people are asking questions. I did not call you in here to discuss what you want.”

“Part of my explanation for leaving involves Y/N.”

“That isn't a good thing, Zuko.”

Zuko's grip tightens – he was prepared for loose threats, but they shake him up nonetheless. You glance at him; Zuko can feel your eyes burning holes into the side of your head, can feel your ribcage expanding and dropping at lightning speed beside him. He rubs a small circle into your hip, and you melt against him a little more.

“Introduce yourself,” Ozai suddenly says.

You pause. “Me?”

Ozai scowls.

“Oh, me!” You stumble forward, but your hand darts behind you and grabs Zuko's wrist, needing to keep some form of contact. “Uh, good morning, Firelord. Firelord? Your Majesty? I don't – uh...” You turn to Zuko. “Help?”

Zuko just nods.

You scowl and turn back to Ozai. “Firelord. My name is Y/N L/N. I'm a – uh – friend of your son. A good friend. Really good friends.” You pause. “I'm in love with your son.”

Zuko's breath skips. He curls his fingers tighter round your own, a silent message portrayed through nothing more than skinship: I love you too. I love you too. I love you so much.

Ozai keeps his scowl, but he has not yet dove from his throne, has not yet ordered your death, and Zuko is going to take this as a good sign.

“In my forty three years ruling this nation,” he says slowly, “I don't think I've ever seen you before.”

You stiffen. “Really? That's odd. I – uh – pay my taxes and everything, so-”

“Y/N is from the Earth Kingdom, father.”

It happens in seconds. Zuko has barely any time to blink before the royal guards are dashing forward, and suddenly you are in their grasp, and your startled cry is echoing off the throne room walls.

Zuko lurches forward. “Stop!”

Ozai rises from his throne with a swift calmness that makes Zuko ill; you're thrashing in the guards grip, feet kicking from the ground, but they only hold you tighter. There is a guard at Zuko's elbow, a spear In front of his nose that stops him from getting any closer to you.

“Father,” Zuko pants. “You must hear me out. You have to give me a chance to explain-”

“You know the rules, Zuko,” Ozai says calmly. “This little infatuation of yours is a criminal. We do not tolerate criminals here.”

Zuko shakes his head. He doesn't know why, doesn't know what he's disagreeing to, because his father is technically speaking the truth – you are a criminal, and Zuko knows that, but the rules you have broken are so unfair and so stupid that it makes him angry to hear that label be pinned to your name.

He looks over. There are tears glistening on your waterline, though you have now gone limp in the guards arms. Your shoulders are pulled back, mouth pulled into a tight line as you try to fight off the rising panic he knows you are feeling – you're trying to seem strong, unthreatened. Zuko remembers the way you had so casually agreed to go back to the woods on your own, how prepared you had been to go back to such a horrendous way of life – was this your way of telling Zuko you were prepared to die, as well?

Death. Zuko can't even bring himself to think of it. He has to stop this. He promised to keep you safe.

Slowly, he turns back to his father. “You don't want to do this. Not really.”

“Now we both know that's not true. I have killed plenty, and I will kill again. That is my job as the protector of this nation.”

“You're insane if you really believe that.”

For a second, Ozai pauses. Zuko has never spoken to him like that. “Watch your tongue, boy.”

“You've always wanted me to be tougher.” Zuko steps forward, fingers curled at his sides. “You're always telling me to be braver, to stop being such a wimp. You've always wanted me to follow in your footsteps, and now I'm prepared to do just that.”

“Stand down, boy – before you make a fool of yourself.”

Zuko grits his teeth. His stomach churns, a feeling he's never before experienced slicing through every bit of patience he gathered before walking into this throne room; he prepared himself for hostility, an argument, an explanation his father would never make sense of, but now you're being held by royal guards and Ozai is threatening your life and Zuko can't hold himself back any more.

He takes another step forward and lets his hands erupt.

Ozai's eyes widen. Royal guards rush forward, but Zuko is quicker – he sends his hands out in front of him, creating a circle of flames on the ground. Guards jump back, yelping in shock because Zuko – the wimpy little prince – has never shown this side before.

This wimpy prince turns back to the Firelord and says, “You always thought I was weak, father. The truth is, I just never had anything to fight for. Now that I do, I'm not going to let you destroy it.”

“Zuko,” you croak out. He closes his eyes. “Zuko, don't do this. Don't-”

“Shut them up.”

The royal guard backhands you. Zuko's eyes snap open, and it's reflex when he throws his hands out. He doesn't even think, doesn't will his power to the surface – it's just there, present in a way it's never been before, and the royal guards robes set alight. He screams, letting go of your arms; you crumble to the floor, revealing the slash now embedded in your cheek thanks to the guards ring.

Zuko darts to your side and grabs your arm. “Are you alright?”

“Don't do this,” you repeat, clinging to him. “I'll be fine, Zuko. I'll be okay if I have to leave, but I can't see you dead. I won't.”

Zuko smiles weakly. Tears flood his eyes. “Why do you think I would be any different?”

“You're the prince,” you whisper.

Zuko closes his eyes, tracing his thumb along your cheek bone. “So you like to remind me.”

“Zuko-”

He spirals up, whirling on his father yet again. His hands spring out, but Ozai is in front of him – much closer than Zuko had once anticipated. The Firelord snatches his sons wrist and twists; Zuko's knees buckle, but he catches himself and forces flames into his palm. Ozai flinches back, giving Zuko just enough time to spin back and throw a fireball against the marble floor. The dais cracks, the throne falling on its side. Flames swallow the plants set up for decoration. The golden doors start to smoke.

Around him, his throne room crumbles under his sons power, but Ozai stays kneeled on the floor.

“Come on, father,” Zuko taunts. “You've forced my hand, but now you won't finish it?”

Ozai licks his bottom lip; blood is pouring from a cut Zuko hadn't even realised he'd made.

“Look at you,” Zuko spits. “Everybody fears you. You've made everybody fear you, and yet you can't even look me in the eyes right now.”

“Zuko!” you cry out. “Stop this now!”

“Listen to your thing, Zuko,” Ozai growls.

Zuko clenches his fists. “Don't you dare.”

Slowly, Ozai lifts his head. Blood coats his fingers, his chin, his busted lip the source of it all. His robes are singed, the tan skin beneath bubbling with blisters nobody has ever seen on the Firelord, because nobody can bring themselves to imagine Firelord Ozai losing in a battle involving fire bending; he's the master of it. He is the person every fire bender wants to be.

But Zuko stands over him now, and his own power is overwhelming him. It mingles with his anger, exaggerated by his dire need to protect you.

“Is this all it takes?”

Zuko frowns. Ozai's words do not click.

“What are you talking about?”

Ozai slams his hand into the marble and yells, “Is this all it takes?”

Zuko stumbles back. “I don't – I don't understand-”

“A single Earth Bender is all it takes to bring your power to the surface.” Ozai laughs, a bitter sound that mingles with the gurgle of blood pouring into his open mouth. “I have raised you from day one, tried to bring this out of you from day one, and all it takes is me threatening your little infatuation for you to finally succumb to it. I feel like a fool.”

Zuko's breathing quickens. He doesn't know how to reply, having not expected the conversation to take this kind of turn.

Ozai shakes his head before turning his attention to you. Zuko steps to the side protectively, lowering one of his hands; you reach up from the ground, hooking your index finger through his before you say, “This cut on my cheek feels really deep.”

Ozai scowls. “How did you ever fall in love with my son?”

Zuko doesn't need to look at you to know you're smiling through your response. “I really have no idea, Firelord. It just kind of happened.”

“Y/N is staying with me, father,” Zuko says. Ozai closes his eyes, running a thumb along his bottom lip. “Y/N will stay with me, or I will go with them – whatever happens, we're staying together. You either lose your heir, or you lose your pride and admit this rule you have is wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“I know,” you grumble. “Gods forbid anything you do is wrong.”

Ozai lurches forward. Zuko's free hand erupts into flames; the Firelord pauses, growling at his son. And Zuko knows he's being treated well here, because he's seen his fathers fury. He's been on the receiving end of his fathers fury, knows that Ozai can hurt him in so many different ways if he so chooses – but he's not. He's staring at his son, contemplating something Zuko can't read.

It makes him nervous. He tightens his grip on your finger, because that's what soothes him nowadays.

“I've laid out my conditions,” Zuko growls. “All you have to do now is choose which one you prefer.”

The room goes eerily quiet. Zuko can hear his heartbeat. He can hear the blood pumping through his body, but louder than anything else, he hears your giggling behind him. It keeps him rooted to the spot. He has to fight off his own grin when you shuffle forward and press a small kiss to his palm – a silent good luck. Or maybe it's a goodbye. Either way, it sends Zuko's heart into bliss.

Until Ozai looks up and says, “If Y/N is what it takes to make you into the Firelord you're meant to be, then I will only be putting myself at risk by sending them off again.”

Zuko stares.

That's all he can do as his brain struggles to process the words his father has just spoken – spoken so easily, with no catch whatsoever. His heart thunders. His hands grow sweaty, to the point where you're scowling up at him, wiping your palm on his robes.

“You're serious,” Zuko says, some of his previous formality slipping. “You're being serious right now.”

“Don't make me regret it,” Ozai growls. “And don't think this is the end of anything, son. The way you spoke to me today-”

“Very bad boy, yes.” You jump up from the ground, sway a little as you wrap your arms around Zuko's shoulders. “I'll make sure he sits in the corner and thinks about what he's done.”

“You're a curse, Y/N L/N,” Ozai growls. “The Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom aren't meant to mingle; one day, we will burn you out.”

“Goodness, I hope so,” you reply, before giving the Firelord a cheery thumbs up. Zuko is still in a daze, making it easy to steer him out of the throne room. “Have a good night, Firelord! Thank you very much for this. Thank you!”

The throne room doors close. Zuko snaps back to himself just seconds before you hop into his arms and squeal in his ear.

Your legs are wrapped around his waist. His hands are under your thighs. Your fingers are trailing through his hair. It takes a few seconds, but then your lips are on his.

Everything is happening. It's happening, and it's allowed, and Zuko cannot believe what he's just done actually worked. He can't believe he's actually still alive.

He kisses you back. You slip down his body, drag Zuko backwards until your back is pressed against the wall and he loses his mind. His hands slip to your waist. He pulls you closer. The royal guards awkwardly look away, but Zuko doesn't even care. He doesn't care. He doesn't care.

“Gods,” he breathes against your mouth. “Y/N, what have we just done?”

You snap back, hands curling into Zuko's robes. “Me? I did nothing! It was you that decided to go all bat-shit crazy on the Firelord!”

“Keep your voice down.” He kisses you again.

You laugh against his mouth, pushing him away. “This is insane. This isn't right. There's a catch in there somewhere.”

Zuko groans, slumping his head against your own. “Why can't we just focus on the fact I've just nearly wiped out an entire room of people?”

You mess with the hairs at the back of his neck. “Is the Princeling tired?”

“Exhausted.”

“Why don't we go back to your chambers and you can have a nap?”

Zuko raises a brow. “My chambers?”

“Your chambers.”

Zuko scoffs, grabs your hand and says, “Our chambers. And a nap sounds delightful right now.”

---

Zuko remembers days like this.

More specifically, he remembers his dread.

The butterflies, how he had to concentrate just to breathe properly. He remembers Azula sneering at him from across the balcony, telling him to straighten up his shoulders and look the part of the prince he was meant to be.

Now, he stands on the very same balcony, and he feels none of that. Azula is not present. The only person by his side is you, holding his hand, wearing your dark green Earth Bender robes. Your hair is pinned back with a fancy pin in the shape of a leaf, and as Zuko waits for the screaming crowd to die down, he reaches over to touch it.

You shoot him a glare. “I swear if my hair falls out of place-”

“You look beautiful,” he says.

You purse your lips, look away and say, “Okay. Love you.”

He chuckles. “Love you too.” He turns back to the crowd. They have yet to fully settle, but he starts anyway – if he were to wait for complete silence, he would be stood there all day.

“Good morning everyone,” he starts, just as he always does. “I know a lot of you are confused as to why I have called an announcement today. I apologise for any inconvenience, but this is not something I can hold onto any more.”

The crowd murmur. Zuko inhales deeply, his breathing hitching. He squeezes your hand, his form of comfort.

“As many of you know, Y/N is born from the Earth Kingdom. They wears their Earth Kingdom robes with pride. They practice Earth Bending in the streets. They brings diversity to our streets of fire. My father made it clear before he died that the Fire Nation were to be seen as superior, that any mingling with any of the other kingdoms was forbidden, wrong.” He levels his gaze. “I am making it my goal to change that mindset.”

The crowd go quiet. They're uncertain, but Zuko had expected nothing different; for years, it has been drilled into their heads that every other nation is doing something wrong. That's all they've known. Zuko is aware he'll have to be patient to get through to them.

You squeeze his hand, whispering, “You're doing amazing.”

Because you've said it, Zuko believes it.

He straightens up his posture and continues. “From now on, the borders of the Fire Nation will be open to people from every kingdom. Security will be put in place to ensure the safety of the people inside the city, but we will no longer be segregated from other kingdoms – it's unhealthy, and it's wrong. We as a nation can only improve when we welcome other cultures into our own. That is the only way we can grow and learn, and we have been stunting that growth with the ridiculous laws my father put in place.”

The crowd breaks into murmurs. Zuko glances over to see you smiling – a brighter smile than he's seen you wear in quite a while. You've always told him you don't mind, that you don't expect him to change the laws of the Fire Nation just for you – but it's clear to him now that being the only Earth Kingdom citizen has been eating away at you for a while now. It makes him realise that perhaps you've felt a little more lonely that you've let on in the past.

He turns back to the crowd. “From here on out, the law of no contact with other kingdoms is dropped. I suggest you all start working on your greetings.” And before anyone can say anything more, Zuko bows to the crowd and walks back into the palace, you following behind him.

The glass doors shut. Someone tries to talk to him, a voice in the back of his head that doesn't matter, because his one thought is focused purely on you.

He spins round, cutting the guard off when he grabs your hands and says, excitedly, “Did I do a good job?”

“A perfect job,” you reply, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him in for a hug. “You're very good at this public speaking thing. It's quite attractive.”

Zuko rolls his eyes, nibbling your shoulder in warning. You scoff and push him away, and it's then that Zuko gets a good look at your face.

There are tears in your eyes.

His expression falls. “Y/N...”

You swipe your hand beneath your eyes. “What? Don't do that voice. It scares me.”

“Why are you crying?”

You groan, throwing your head back. Royal guards awkwardly shuffle round the corners of the room, but Zuko pays them no attention. He reaches forward, pulling you towards him so he can rub your tears away.

“Did I do something wrong? Was there something else you wanted me to say?”

“No! Zuko, no. No, you did wonderfully out there.” You shake your head, sniffling. “It's just . . . you did wonderfully. I'm so proud of you. And I was just . . . I was stood there beside you, listening to you speak, and I just. . . It became real, you know?”

Zuko frowns. “Please explain.”

“It became real. My aunt can come and see me. My people can come and see me stand beside the Firelord – me. The little orphan who nobody could take in because everyone in my village was too poor to feed another person.”

“So you are just with me for the title.”

You roll your eyes. “That's just an added bonus.”

Zuko chuckles, bundling you against his chest. “We're making a difference, Y/N. That's what we always promised we would do.”

“It's going to take a while for everyone to get used to it. We're going to have to put extra security in for the first few people who come from other kingdoms.”

“We'll sort it out. We always do.”

You hum against his chest. “Yes. We always do.”

908 notes · View notes