#hold me down & still i rise by any means i will survive

[nausicaaandhermouth]

A Kiss For Loyalty

masterlist

young!silco x gn!reader [1.2k][AO3]

summary: You find him after the attack on the bridge, and you're left to figure out how to tread the fragile state of him.

tags: young silco, a few hours after vander tries to drown him, angst, established relationship, hurt silco, not betad

a/n: mid-lecture we were looking at photos of gash wounds and i couldn't help but think of young silco's face fresh after the drowning, so ofc i had to write a comfort fic for him. kinda comfort. it's mostly angst.

Vander couldn’t look you in the eye, couldn’t form a single word. And at first, worry was what overtook you—Silco hadn’t survived, lost in the fight. But the more you looked at the larger man who had returned, the more you recognised something else: the aftereffect when he’d had too much to drink, had raised his voice, had felt guilty. Regret.

You find Silco in your bedroom, curled up on the worn mattress that had held you both some countless nights. It had overheard the visions for your new nation, the sloppy passion of drunken evenings, the quiet rise and fall of breaths during winter. Now it’s witnessing something new.

You’ve never heard Silco cry. Your bedroom shrinks at the sound of it, as if the corners darken and round themselves to hold and hush him. It’s a sharp sting, an undeniably pained cry bleeding into his palm, cupped around his mouth.

When you approach, you’re silent—assessing, investigating, worrying if this isn’t something you can fix. He’s never been so evidently broken. You’re not sure whether it’s about Vander or at the failure of their uprising, both of which had taken a large portion of his heart.

“Silco?” you whisper, taking another step forward.

“Don’t,” he manages, his sobs becoming quieter, but affecting his breath, bubbling out of him in squeaks and chokes. “Please,”

You shake your head, keeping your ground but keeping your eyes on him. He’s refusing to remove his reddened hands from his face, his hair curtaining over his left side, black, wet strings.

“You’re hurt,” you furrow, focusing on the blood down his hand. You rush forward, chest attempting to wrangle in a frenzied heart. “Show me, hey, S—”

“Stop!” he inches away from you, a childlike recoil that makes you freeze.

It’s a foreign behaviour, a desperation he’s never worn, never come close to mimicking. As far as you’ve known him he’s been the opposite. Even in pain, he stitched together a composure so convincing it made others doubt he could ever truly feel the hurt he was raised around.

You suppose that it’s something he’s worked on, refined throughout the years after taking on the responsibility of becoming Zaun’s face, alongside Vander. His ideologies had spilled straight from his heart into your ear. You understood why he worked so hard to maintain a strong face.

That man was gone; he hadn't entered the room this time.

He’s hiding, you see, shielding his face from you. This, you understand, is something he thinks may spare you from even a fraction of the pain he must be feeling. He’s always been so. To hoard the suffering and smile.

“You don’t want me to see you?” you ask, kneeling by the bed and retracting your hands.

Silco doesn’t answer, the chokes of suppressed sobs the only sound from him.

“It’s alright,” with a shake of your head, you turn around, facing the other way and leaning against the bed. “I don’t have to see you. Just… just talk to me,”

You wait a beat, then another, waiting for his voice, willing his voice to regard you again. Anything with a meaning that you could warp into a sign of hope.

“Please,” you add. It’s unintentionally desperate, pleading, giving him the power of controlling where the conversation goes. Something he needs, you suppose, something he’s certain is still predictable.

You hear a sharp breath behind you, then the shuffle of your bedsheets. Your eyes slide the farthest they can without turning your head, attempting to see any glimpse of him.

Then his hand enters your periphery, pale skin against scarlet, fingers twitching and shaking as his forearm rests on your shoulder.

You take gentle hold of his hand, turning it this way and that in search for wounds. But nothing. “Who…” your breath escapes, “Is this your blood?”

“Yes,” he responds, a word that pricks at your lungs sharply.

You see the moment clearer now. A wound so deep that to reveal it is its own pain.

You recall Vander’s face. The shame that distorted his features, how ugly it becomes as you try to piece together the fragmented pieces. 

“Vander did something,” you surmise. Your breath quickens, a sneer creating brackets around your flared nostrils. “Did Vander do something?”

You feel Silco’s breath near the top of your head, but before you’re able to turn, a weight settles over you. Momentarily, you hold, letting the firmness of his muscles process on your body, around your shoulders, his other arm snaking over your bones and holding you backwards to him.

You hear his soft sniffs over your head and slightly to one side, the bone of his cheek pressing against your crown.

There it is again. It’s a spear through your body, the sound of him. It strikes a fissure along your lungs, each sudden inhale a crack veining in your airways, each tremoring breath he takes an earthquake on your skull. Vander, what have you done?

You take his hand and hold it to your cheek, the cool back of his hand against the warm apple of your face. You interlace your fingers, a familiar practice, just as fluid as the locking of legs in the night, or the pressing of palms for a prayer.

Next was the chaste kiss on his index knuckle, for loyalty. Then on the middle knuckle, for liberty. Another on the ring knuckle, for luck. And lastly, a kiss on the pinky knuckle, for love.

It was a silent conversation he and you had made, meeting mouth to bone always easier than devoting a voice to each word.

His other hand wrapped around your wrist, bringing your arm upwards and over your head, your own knuckles meeting his familiar lips. But they tremble.

He breathes a kiss, gentle, on your index knuckle, starting, then failing. His breath falls jagged on your skin.

For a moment he restarts, the warmth of his air hovering over your knuckle. But again he fails.

Your frown deepens. Even more so when he moves your hand and skips to your pinky knuckle, the only promise fulfilled.

“How bad is it?” your voice slightly muffles against his hand near your mouth.

He swallows, clearing his throat. “At the… we were at the river, he—” he grips your hand slightly tighter.

“It’s still hurting?”

His clothes shuffle. “Yeah,”

“Let me look?”

Silence.

You start to think he’ll reject you again, not yet prepared to face you in whatever shape Vander had left him. But he loosens his arm around your shoulders and moves away, his presence at your back fading.

Your other hand remains in his, the anchor, as you shift on the floor and turn.

You look up and your eyes meet. No. One eye meets yours.

You sense his panic by how the one remaining blue jumps between your eyes, tips of his mouth downwards. He brushes aside his wet hair.

The left side of his face had been marred, a trench of exposed muscle, skin, and blood bared at you. The blackened sclera is haunting, a flame moving in tandem with the watery blue of his other eye.

You’re more than certain there’s nothing but indignation gushing through your veins. Yet, Silco remains beautiful. You realised a long time ago it was difficult for him to not be, no matter the state of him. And still now, left eye diseased with the molten of betrayal, mouth frowned by grief, fear in his good eye.

“It’s not over,” he whispers, leaning forward as you reach up and cup the unmarred side of him. “We’ll take back Zaun,”

There he is. No man, no river, could ever kill him. “You’ll show them,” you press a kiss to his index knuckle.

[fastandcarlos]

Victim Of A Bad Day : ̗̀➛ Oscar Piastri

summary: after what can only be described as a nightmare of a day, oscar ends up coming home only to take it all out on you

Your smile was soft as Oscar walked through the apartment, putting your phone down and rising to your feet. You went over to him, holding your arms out, but Oscar’s head shook back at you. 

“Please, no,” he told you, walking straight past you through the living room and into the kitchen. 

You turned around as you watched Oscar walk away, debating what to do next. You slowly followed behind as you watched him grab a glass from out of the cupboard and fill it with water. Every movement was done with a sigh, thudding around the place like a toddler running around. 

“I’m guessing your day could’ve been better?” You asked, trying to bring a smile to his face. 

You stood and waited for Oscar to acknowledge you, but instead he carried on walking around. His head was down as he moved, his eyes not even looking across in your direction, as if you weren’t there. 

“Oscar, you know I’m here for you,” you told him, beginning to get concerned with his behaviour. It was unlike Oscar to be so quiet, to close off from you and deal with everything all by himself. 

A shrug came from Oscar as he walked out of the kitchen and into the living room, throwing himself down on the sofa. He grabbed his phone, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table, almost groaning when he noticed that you had followed right behind him. 

“So, we’ll just spend our evening in silence, shall we?” You asked, perching on the end of the sofa. 

“Suits me,” Oscar bluntly responded, still staring down at his phone, ignoring the sigh that came from across the room from you. 

Your head shook in disbelief at how cold Oscar was, never had you seen this side of him before. “I don’t know what’s happened today Oscar, but you could try and at least treat me with even the smallest bit of dignity tonight.” 

“Just leave me alone,” Oscar requested, throwing his arms up into the air. “Just because I’ve not come home and thrown my arms around you and talked your ear off doesn’t mean I need constant questions. Just take the hint and give me a bit of space.” 

Your body tensed up at how loud Oscar’s voice was, not quite sure how to react. “You’re not you Oscar, what would you like me to do? Pretend that everything is fine? I didn’t realise that caring about you was such a crime, next time I won’t bother worrying about you.” 

“I don’t need caring for, I haven’t asked you too,” Oscar replied. 

Your eyes widened in surprise at what Oscar had to say, stunned by how blunt he was. Perhaps you had been a little overbearing, but all you were guilty of was worrying about him.  

“That’s fine then,” you told Oscar, picking up your phone and sitting opposite him. You sat back, stretching out across the sofa, deciding to switch off to the fact that Oscar was even in the room. 

His eyes watched you though, shaking his head as you mimicked him. “I don’t ever remember asking for someone to worry about me, you know I’ve survived long enough all by myself.” 

Your heart ached as Oscar spoke, the hurt clear on your face as your eyes flickered across to Oscar. As he met your eyes, Oscar’s frustration disappeared, replaced by concern that he was the reason for your disappointment.  

“I don’t even know what to say,” you shrugged, shaking your head disapprovingly, full of despair. Rising to your feet, Oscar kept an eye on you as you left the room and went into your bedroom. 

Time apart was exactly what the two of you needed as you let the events sink in. You were both full of anger and upset, unable to believe that the two of you could ever have such an argument. It was unlike any other disagreement that you’d had with Oscar, leaving you rather shellshocked as you laid down on your bed. 

You found yourself staring up at the ceiling as you replayed the argument again and again in your head. A shiver ran down your spine each time you heard Oscar’s voice in your head, the resentment and annoyance so clear, somehow you being the reason for it too. 

After a while, you could hear Oscar moving through the apartment, knowing exactly where he was heading. You picked up your phone to make yourself look busy as the bedroom door opened, with Oscar quietly walking in, sitting on the end of the bed. 

You didn’t respond as Oscar turned to face you, laying himself down beside you. His hand rested against your stomach as he tried to get your attention, knowing that he had plenty of making up to do. 

“I’m sorry,” Oscar murmured, “the way I behaved then was completely unreasonable and out of order.” 

You placed your phone down, brows knitting together as you glanced across at Oscar. His heart sunk as he saw how upset you still were, guilt eating away at him knowing it was all his fault. 

“I don’t want to hear it.” 

“Please,” Oscar sighed, expecting you to dismiss him. “I shouldn’t have said what I said, I know that you care so much, and that’s one of my favourite things about you. Having you take care of me is the best feeling in the world, I don’t know what I’d do without you around to support me.” 

As your body turned slightly to face Oscar, you could see a faint smile on his face. Knowing that you were at least listening to him was a start for Oscar, hardly expecting you to fall into his arms and forgive him as quick as a flash, but at least it was a sign. 

“I don’t care how bad your day is Oscar; I don’t expect to be spoken to like that. I was only caring, and maybe I was a little too much, but if you’d have just told me that you needed space then I would’ve known what you needed from me, rather than just being shouted at.” 

“I was stupid,” Oscar told you, “there’s no explanation for it, bad day or not.” 

You could see the effects of the day in Oscar’s eyes, there was barely any colour there, letting you know just how bad of a day he must’ve had. 

“Everyone has good days and bad days,” you whispered, “including me, but yours are not my fault. I don’t want you to shut me out Oscar, I want to be able to help you, even if there’s very little I can do, at least it’s something.” 

His head nodded, pressing a kiss against the top of your shoulder. You were spot on, you were the last person to blame for how Oscar’s day went, you just so happened to be in the wrong place in the wrong time. 

“I’m always here for you,” you reminded Oscar, “it doesn’t matter what’s happened, you know I’m always going to be with you, right?” 

He continued nodding as you spoke. “I’m sorry I made you feel like I don’t appreciate you being with me today, because I do appreciate it, more than anything.” 

“Will you remind yourself of that next time you come home after a bad day?” 

“I promise that I’ll never forget it.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[ohburgee]

𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

Noli x Myth-Hunter!Reader

tw: implied physical violence, threatening behavior, stalking, obsessive behavior an: i can't stop thinking about Noli so i decide to make a fic of him then i remember when i was a myth hunter before with no knowledge about ways of hunting, try to investigate Noli because i was interested on his myth story. summary: you are a myth hunter deicide to visit Noli once again after you heard about him disappear and no news about him, you decide to check him on his place when you got captured and teleported to this mysterious place.

You feel a sharp pain in your head as you try to clear your blurry vision. Slowly, you sit up from the ground. Once your vision begins to clear, you look around, confused and disoriented.

You don’t remember much, but one thing is certain; you were captured. Now, you’re in some unfamiliar place.

Another strange, mysterious location... You rise to your feet, bracing yourself for what’s to come. You’re used to this, these weird, unexplained situations. As a myth hunter, you’ve learned to face whatever lies ahead, even if it means risking your life.

You begin walking, carefully observing your surroundings like you always do. It’s quiet. No signs of people. You’re unsure of where you are, but you keep going.

Eventually, you reach what appears to be the center of a map. Behind a large, untouched stone, you spot a broken generator. You approach it cautiously and begin fixing it. Just as you're about to finish, you see movement, someone running.

Two figures come into view. They stop when they notice you, just as confused as you are. You look at them with suspicion while continuing to work on the generator.

“Who are you two?” you ask.

“I’m Elliot, and this is Shedletsky,” one of them replies. You study their faces, still unsure.

“Where am I?” you ask, trying to piece together the situation.

They exchange confused glances. Before they can answer, a loud thud echoes nearby. Elliot grabs your wrist, and the three of you sprint into a nearby cave.

“I swear, what the hell is going on!?” you demand.

Elliot cautiously peeks outside. “Answer me,” you insist.

“We’re in a survival game,” Elliot says. “We have to survive until the round ends.”

“I didn’t choose to be here,” you mutter, pacing in a small circle as you try to recall what happened. That’s when you notice a shadow approaching from outside the cave.

You turn to Elliot and point toward a broken hole in the wall. He quickly understands and pulls Shedletsky with him into hiding.

You duck behind a large rock just as someone slowly enters the cave. You hold your breath, heart pounding. Searching for a distraction to get out, you spot some small rocks nearby. You toss one to the opposite side of the cave. The figure in purple-glitching smoke pauses and turns toward the sound. You throw another rock, drawing their attention further away.

Once the coast is clear, you rush over and whisper for Elliot and Shedletsky to move. Grabbing them, you all sprint for the exit, until the figure notices and acts.

A tendril shoots toward you three. Without thinking, you shove Elliot and Shedletsky out of the way. Then you freeze.

Your eyes widen.

It’s Noli.

How? Was he the one who captured you and brought you here?

He gazes at you, amused, smiling in recognition. He remembers you.

You hear Elliot and Shedletsky calling you. You glance back at them, but Noli’s gaze shifts to the two and he begins to pursue them. “Run!” you yell, and they do.

You chase after him. You know Noli better than they do. He’s worse, far worse, than any other myth you’ve encountered.

But you lose them in the chase. When you finally catch up, your heart drops. Elliot and Shedletsky are suspended by tendrils, hanging upside down.

You kick at the tendrils, trying to free them, when suddenly, everything goes dark.

Your vision clouds with thick, suffocating fog. You look around, trying to see through the haze. “I know it’s you,” you mutter, spinning to catch a glimpse of him.

You hear footsteps, then laughter. It rings in your ears. This is new. You don’t remember Noli having this kind of power.

Then you see him, smiling.

“Hello, my lovely hunter,” he greets, and tendrils coil around your waist, lifting you off the ground.

“I’m so glad you arrived safely, no injuries from the teleport,” he says as your vision clears, revealing his new form.

“What do you want, Noli!?” you snap, struggling in the tendrils.

He chuckles, circling you like a predator. His gaze is intense.

“When I was offered something greater, I took it,” he says. “The Forsaken made me stronger than a mere myth.”

You blink, confused.

“I’m no longer just a myth. I’ve become something far more powerful, this new body, this power… and I accepted the role of killer in this game.”

He draws you closer with the tendrils and gently brushes his hand against your cheek.

“I love this new me. The thrill of hunting, the fun of killing, chasing prey like a true predator.”

He laughs again, clearly enjoying every second.

“And now, with my favorite myth hunter here… doesn’t that sound fun?” he whispers before suddenly kissing your cheek.

“You’re no longer out there investigating and searching for answers. You’re stuck here with me now. And I’ll make sure you see me.”

[girlactionfigure]

There’s a Jewish holiday coming up in two days, It’s called Passover.

And for those who aren’t familiar, I want to share what this time of year really means to Jews — and especially to me — and to all religious and Orthodox Jews around the world who observe it.

See, from the outside, a lot of people think Jewish holidays are just about food, family, wine, gatherings — like a big dinner party.

But Passover is different.

Passover is hard work. Passover is a lot of preparation. Passover is soul-searching.

For weeks before it even begins, our entire lives shift. We (by we, I of course mean our wives…) clean our homes like absolute crazy people. And not for spring cleaning. Not for guests. Not because company is coming over — but for something called chametz.

Chametz is any food made from grain — wheat, barley, oats, spelt, or rye — that has come into contact with water and risen. Bread. Pasta. Cake. Cookies. Even tiny crumbs.

And on Passover, Chametz is completely forbidden.

We scrub down our kitchens. We check every pocket of every coat. We vacuum cars. We clean toys. We search by candlelight the night before Passover to make sure not a single crumb is left in our homes.

Why?

Because chametz represents more than just bread. It represents ego. Arrogance. Laziness. The things that puff us up and hold us back.

And when Passover comes in, we want a fresh start. A clean sheet. A home, and a heart, without chametz.

And then comes the heart of Passover: The Seder.

Seder means “order.”

It’s not a meal you rush through. It’s not about eating and moving on.

It’s a night where we sit, usually for hours, surrounded by family, by friends, and most importantly, by our children.

Because the entire purpose of the Seder is to tell our story to our little children.

The story of the Jewish people. The story of Egypt. Of slavery. Of exile. Of pain. Of miracles. Of redemption.

We read from a book called the Haggadah — which literally means “the telling.”

We dip vegetables in salt water to remember our tears.

We eat bitter herbs to remember the bitterness of slavery.

We eat matzah — flat, dry bread — to remember how quickly we had to run to freedom, with no time to wait for the dough to rise.

We drink four cups of wine to celebrate the four expressions of freedom promised to us by G-d.

And we sing.

We sing songs our ancestors sang. Songs they whispered in hiding. Songs they cried in exile. Songs of hope. Songs of faith. Songs that say — we are still here.

That’s what Passover is.

It’s not just a Jewish holiday.

It’s our origin story. It’s our identity. It’s everything we’ve survived — and everything we still hope for.

And at the center of it all is this powerful line we repeat every year at the Seder:

“In every generation, a person is obligated to see themselves as if they personally left Egypt.”

It’s not just history. It’s personal.

We all have our Egypt. We all have our struggles. We all have things we’re trying to break free from.

And Passover reminds us — freedom is possible. Miracles happen. And our story is still being written.

And every year — in every Jewish home where there is a Seder — no matter where that home is in the world…

It always ends the same way.

After hours of storytelling, of singing, of laughing, of crying, of remembering who we are and where we come from… comes this moment. 

Everyone rises. Everyone’s voice comes together — loud, raw, emotional, sometimes through tears — and we scream at the top of our lungs:

“L’shana Haba’a B’Yerushalayim!”

“Next year in Jerusalem!”

“Next year in Jerusalem!”

“Next year in Jerusalem, Amen!”

[mochiwrites]

couldn’t help writing a lil thing from @plumadot’s arts (linked here and here!)🥺👉👈 third life scarian possessed me so hard I broke out of my burn out for this reblogs would be really cool and awesome okaythankyou

��—————————

“And how are preparations for Doom Day going, my good sir?” Scar’s voice is a light sound behind him, tone cheerful and inquisitive all at once.

Grian turns around from where he’s knee deep in sand, a small hole dug out in front of him. Scar comes to stand beside him, red eyes staring down at him. His gaze is soft, far too soft for a man who’s meant to be anything but.

With a soft noise, Grian pushes himself up to stand while dusting off his hands. He leaves his shovel in the ground by the hole. His wings flutter.

He hums, surveying the area. He gazes at the holes of sand, where the tnt will be set down, at the place where a bunker will be built. “Not bad, I’d say. I think this place’ll be ready by tomorrow or some time ‘round then.”

Scar whistles, moving to casually wrap an arm around the green life’s shoulders. “Amayzin’!” His lips lift in a smile. “Man, those Dogwarts guys won’t know what hit ‘em!”

“That’s if this trap even works, Scar,” Grian mutters, unable to hold back the bitterness in his voice. His traps have hardly worked all game, and he’d be lying if he said he isn’t worried about this one failing too. “It has to,” he says, brows knitting together, “there’s too much riding on this one.”

His eyes trail over to Scar, who doesn’t seem to share his worries.

“Aw, c’mon G,” Scar starts as he pulls the other toward him. He tugs so that Grian’s facing him, their faces a few inches apart. Grian can feel how warm Scar is this close, can see the way his chest rises and falls. “I have total trust in you and your trapping skills. So relax a little, yeah?”

Grian frowns at him in turn. Speculation and trust aren’t good enough when up against his fail rate. He needs one hundred percent certainty. But he can’t just test this one. It’s a one time pull. “Scar—”

Careful fingers grab his chin, rough and calloused from the harsh conditions of the desert but still far too careful. Red names aren’t supposed to be careful or gentle, and yet here Scar is.

“I trust you,” Scar says again, and Grian doesn’t think this is how things are supposed to go. It’s not the first time he’s had this thought, and he’s sure it won’t be the last (provided they both survive this, that is). “You really do worry too much.”

“One of us has to while you’re off gallivanting around without a shirt on,” Grian grumbles while reaching for the edge of Scar’s cloak. He holds onto it, fingers digging into the fabric.

Scar lifts a playful brow at Grian’s comment, “Does that mean I look good while valligaggling?”

Grian snorts, the action laced with too much affection. “That’s not even a word, Scar,” he replies with a little laugh, one that makes Scar’s grin widen.

“It’s close enough,” the man hums in answer, their faces moving closer. His hand drops to Grian’s elbow, the other drawing him in closer by the waist. Red eyes flutter shut as his breath ghosts over Grian’s lips. “And it made you laugh.”

“Your priorities are seriously mixed up,” Grian’s voice is hardly above a whisper as watches as Scar draws in closer.

Their lips meet seconds later, chapped and warm. Grian stares at Scar’s face, the way the creases in his forehead smooth over and relax. He looks so content, a funny feeling to express when the powder keg is seconds from exploding.

It hardly takes any time at all for Scar to deepen the kiss, raising his hand from Grian’s elbow to hold the edge of his jaw. His thumb settles too close to Grian’s throat, yet not an ounce of fear runs through him. His eyes shut as he presses his lips back against Scar’s, a bit more pressure than the other applies. He catches Scar’s wrist in his hand, and his grip is a little tight at first (too tight for a green name). He has to remind himself to loosen his hand, but Scar never gives a reaction.

He simply angles Grian’s chin up slightly, hand shifting to cup his cheek. His fingers tangle in his hair, brushing against his ear.

It’s kind of a shame they’re blowing up the desert. He wouldn’t mind sharing more kisses with Scar out in the open chilly air like this.

Scar kisses him like he’s something fragile, something precious. He kisses him like he’s afraid of breaking him, and really it’s laughable how gentle he is with Grian. His eyes say he shouldn’t be.

(Ironic then, that Grian is wearing more red than him.)

It’s with a soft sigh that Scar pulls back, setting their foreheads against one another. So easily, so fluidly, he holds Grian’s face in both of his hands, one of his thumbs brushing along his cheek. There’s a fond smile on his face, and Grian feels a little dazed by the sight.

“Gri,” Scar says quietly, a moment shared for only the two of them, “I need you to know, I—”

Some kind of alarm rings in Grian’s head, and he knows he cannot let Scar finish that sentence. Panic runs down his spine like electricity, zapping him. He sets his hands on Scar’s front, gently pushing back as he turns his head away.

“H-Haha, we’ve wasted enough time, haven’t we?” he questions, some kind of desperate attempt to change the conversation. “We have a war to prepare for, remember?”

He doesn’t watch Scar’s face as he turns away, unable to face it. He turns his back to Scar, wings twitching behind him. Grian purposefully looks down at the sand before him, reminding himself of what he’s meant to be doing. “We, uh, have much to do still,” he says, trying to focus on anything but Scar. “I mean, unless you want me to lose my first life!”

Grian goes to say more, but two hands land on his shoulders, stopping him. He jumps just slightly, startled. Yet it doesn’t last long as he feels Scar’s warmth against his back. “…Scar,” he mumbles.

Arms wrap around him proper, holding him close. He feels Scar bury his face in his hair as the smell of lilacs and poppies flood his senses. “Just a little longer, okay?” the red name murmurs so softly.

Let me hold you for a little longer.

Stay with me for a little longer.

Pretend this’ll last for a little longer.

How selfish, Scar is. Grian looks down at the sand below, its mocking grains. He grabs hold of Scar, keeping him right where he is. “…I’m not going to die, Scar.”

“Promise me.” Scar’s arms tighten around him, giving away how much he needs Grian to stay alive. How much he treasures Grian, both his partnership and company.

Grian squeezes him. He supposes he’s a little selfish as well. “…I promise.”

Scar lets out a shaky breath, burying his face further into Grian’s hair.

They don’t move for a little while. A gentle red name and a green name clothed in far too much crimson. Together they stand, selfishly.

[reveryfics]

Strangers

Daryl Dixon x Male Reader

Summary: Sometimes being alone means nothing when you stumble across the right person.

A/N: Actually curious if you guys want more non Marvel fics, if you do requests are open. In the meantime I have 4 other TWD fics ready to post, and I'll eventually get around to the Scott Lang requests I have.

TW: Slight violence - Blood

The world ended, and you watched it happen from the supposed safety of your isolated campsite. You saw the dead rise, the familiar world crumble into chaos, and you learned the brutal lessons of survival. Each day was a masterclass in adaptation, a solitary struggle where trust became a dangerous luxury. You trusted no one, not since the first scream echoed through the empty streets. That was your mantra, your shield against the horrors that lurked beyond your firelight.

Now, you walk beside a still, man-made pond, the silence amplified by the weight of your solitude. Your compound bow, a constant companion, rests in your grip. A freshly snared rabbit hangs heavy on your pack, a testament to your hard-won skills. Your senses, honed by years of isolation, are razor sharp. You perceive the subtle shifts in the air, the minute changes in the forest's rhythm. You've become a ghost in this shattered world, attuned to its every whisper.

Then, a disturbance. The distant rustle of leaves and snapping twigs, too panicked, too heavy for any animal you know. Doubt gnaws at you. Hesitation, a familiar companion, whispers warnings. You could ignore it, retreat into the safety of your solitude. But something, a flicker of something you can't quite name, holds you back.

You hoist yourself into the nearest tree, climbing just high enough to gain a vantage point. Below, a man stumbles through the undergrowth. His long, greasy hair obscures his face, but his movements betray a desperate panic. He’s running, trying to disappear. You watch, your breath held, a cold knot forming in your stomach.

Soon, the source of his fear emerges. Two men, their voices raw and loud, crashing through the brush like clumsy predators. Their noise, you know, will attract more of the walking dead, a death sentence in this silent world. You could leave, disappear into the shadows. Let them tear each other apart. The isolation you’ve embraced screams at you to do just that.

But you hesitate. You knock an arrow, the metal cold against your skin. You watch, a hunter stalking its prey, your breath shallow. As one of the men passes beneath your tree, you release the arrow. It finds its mark, piercing his neck, silencing his screams. He collapses, choking on his own blood.

The distraction buys the fleeing man time. He throws the remaining attacker to the ground, a desperate struggle unfolding amidst the fallen leaves. You climb down, your movements fluid and silent. You retrieve your arrow, then plunge your bowie knife into the attacker's skull, ending the fight.

You stand back, watching, ensuring the threat is gone. Then, you turn to leave, to disappear back into the solitude you've carved for yourself.

"Hey!" The man's voice, rough and desperate, stops you. "Just gonna help and then walk away?"

You sigh, adjusting your pack, the weight of your solitude pressing down on you. "I helped you. There's nothing else for me to do." You point out, your voice flat, devoid of emotion.

Silence hangs between you, a tense, unspoken question. You study him, searching for any sign of deception, any reason to distrust.

"How long have you been alone?" He asks, his voice hesitant.

You shrug, the question feeling both ancient and immediate. "My whole life, basically. But to answer your question, since it all started."

You talk, brief and guarded. He asks questions, probing for information, testing your boundaries. You answer in clipped sentences, revealing little, trusting less. With each response, he seems to grow more… something. Trust? It’s a foreign concept, a dangerous vulnerability you’ve long since discarded.

"I have a group," he says, his voice low, almost a whisper. "I'd like you to join me, if you’d like."

A group. The word feels strange, unfamiliar. You've been alone for so long, the idea of shared survival seems almost impossible. Fear, sharp and cold, grips you. Trusting others is a risk you haven't taken in years.

"Am I free to leave when I want?" You ask, your voice sharp, demanding.

He nods, licking his lips, a nervous tic. "Ain't nobody gonna stop you if you did."

You look around, at the ravaged world, at the endless expanse of trees, at the weight of your own solitude. Then, you look back at him. You extend your hand, a hesitant offering. Your name slips off your tongue, barely audible to the man before you.

He hesitates, his eyes searching yours, before shaking your hand. "Daryl."

Being alone had its perks. You learned to survive, to rely on yourself and your instincts. But the question lingers: is isolation a choice, or a prison? Could being with others, even with the risk of betrayal, be a different kind of survival? You don't know, but you’re about to find out.

The woods swallowed them whole, a silent, green labyrinth. You walked, your senses stretched taut, every rustle and snap a potential threat. Daryl trailed behind, a watchful shadow. He glanced at you intermittently, his eyes tracing the lines of your movements, the way you navigated the treacherous terrain with an almost predatory grace. He seemed to be cataloging you, trying to decipher the enigma of your solitude.

The silence between you was thick, charged with unspoken questions and unspoken fears. You felt his gaze, a constant, probing presence. It was a strange sensation, being observed, being assessed. You'd spent so long as a ghost, unseen, unheard, that the attention felt almost invasive.

"You seem like you own these woods," Daryl finally remarked, his tone a dry attempt at levity.

You shrugged, your eyes scanning the dense undergrowth. "Been in 'em so long I might as well be a part of 'em." The words were simple, but they carried the weight of years spent in isolation, years spent becoming one with the wilderness.

The journey to his camp was a silent testament to your contrasting lives. He, a member of a struggling community, clinging to the remnants of civilization. You, a solitary predator, forged in the crucible of survival. The difference was stark, a chasm you weren't sure could be bridged.

Within a day, the dense foliage gave way to a clearing, a ragged encampment carved out of the wilderness. Daryl stopped, a subtle shift in his posture, and you followed his gaze. The camp was a hive of activity, a cluster of makeshift shelters and wary faces. You felt a wave of unease, a primal instinct screaming at you to turn and flee.

The group gathered, their eyes fixed on you, a stranger in their midst. You could feel their suspicion, their fear, their unspoken questions. It was a palpable tension, a silent accusation. You braced yourself, expecting hostility, expecting rejection. You’d known this feeling before, the outsider, the one who didn’t belong.

The faces blurred, a sea of wary eyes. You recognized the familiar sting of isolation, even amidst a crowd. You expected them to dislike you, to see you as a threat. You’d already lived a life of distrust, so this was nothing new.

But as the days bled into each other, a subtle shift began. You noticed the way Daryl stood beside you, a silent protector. You saw the flicker of something in his eyes, a flicker that might have been… friendship? Trust? Or something more complex, something you were afraid to name. You realized that, in this chaotic world, his acceptance, his silent camaraderie, was all that mattered. The opinions of the others faded into the background, a distant hum. You had found a fragile anchor, a tenuous connection in a world that had tried to break you.

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 14. Little Girl Gone.

Dahlia has survived and bonded a dragon, but now she must face her father who awaits her back in the flight field. With a dragon very much known to the both of them.

Set Pre Fourth Wing/Books

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist

”It will do for now.” I joke back, his breath wafting over me as he chuckles behind me.

I can’t help but feel a sense of Deja vu as I turn to face him. The clearing so similar to the one all those years ago as I take him in. Only this time he’s far closer than he was that day. Ironically it almost feels like a dream seeing him here in front of me. Like I would wake up any moment back in my bed.

But he was real. And he was mine. As if sensing my thoughts he inhales loudly, his chest puffing out proudly with the movement. His sapphire blue scales catching the setting sun as the silence settles around us.

”We should start heading back. You’ve ventured a fair way in.” His voice startling out of my trance.

I raise an eyebrow at him before taking a few steps back to prepare to mount him. “No thanks to you.” I retort.

He lowers his head, eyes narrowing at me at my words. I know he won’t harm me, but I can’t help the panic that briefly sets in as he eyes me.

”You survived didn’t you?” He snaps at me before extending his leg out for me to mount.

”For the most part.”

I now knew what the gauntlet had prepared us for. The last part almost perfectly replicating the run I needed to do to mount him. Though clearly it was made for dragons a fair bit smaller than my own. I take off, doing what I can to gain as much speed as I can before grasping onto his scales and climbing up his back.

”I can see. You might want to clear up that blood before we head back.”

Shit, I’d nearly forgotten about my nose. I slowly reach up and touch it. It hurts, but it’s luckily not broken. I grasp the sleeve of my shirt, tearing it off to wipe away the blood. I definitely didn’t get all of it, but hopefully it looked better than it did. I lower myself down onto the smooth divot of his back, reaching out to grab the thick ridge of scales Kaori had referred to as the pommel.

Clearly happy I’m seated properly, he bends slightly before launching us up into the sky. I try to hold back the yelp that escapes my lips, but it escapes before I can stop it. Nothing could have prepared me for this moment. But at the same time it feels so natural to me. As if I was made to sit on this dragons back. As if this was what I was always made to do. The sound of his beating wings and the rush of air is all I can hear as we rise above the trees.

As I look around I spy a few other dragons with riders heading towards the flight field. But with how few there are and the setting sun, I know we’re one of the last ones to head back. Meaning anyone still down there is most likely unbonded or dead. With the dragons too far away, I’m unable to tell with riders are on their backs. I hope Bodhi, Austin and Liz made it. No, they did. They would all be down in that flight field waiting for me.

”Why did you protect me the other day?” I ask as we bank towards the flight field.

It had been a question on my mind since Presentation Day. And honestly a question on everyone’s minds. No dragon had ever protected a cadet on Presentation Day. Especially not like that. But it was extremely rare a cadet would have met or known their dragon prior to that day. Only a handful like myself, a child of a Dragon Rider, had seen a dragon up close before coming here.

”I thought it would have been obvious to you by now.” I had a feeling if I could see his face, his words would have been accompanied by an eye roll. Can dragons even roll their eyes?

”Well it’s been a few years. Wasn’t sure if you actually remembered me.” I retort before he throws us into another bank, causing my to fumble for my grip on the pommel. Bastard.

”Little flower, I watched you grow up for most of your life. You might be older but you still look the same.”

”That doesn’t answer why you defended me. And stop calling me little flower.” I snap back as we level out, starting out decent to the flight field.

”I defended you because I knew you we’re my rider. I have been waiting for you since the day my last rider passed. I would have done anything to make sure no harm came to you little flower.”

Clearly we were not giving up on the little flower nickname.

Without warning his wings starting beating faster and faster before launching us upwards at an alarming rate. It’s now I remember Kaori had warned us all the dragons would put us through our paces, making sure we could keep our seat and to put on a show for those below. I sneak a glance to my left, below us hundreds of dragons and riders line the field. Most likely all with their eyes on the last of us to make it back.

His wings stop beating as we hand in mid air, a weird feeling of weightlessness falling over me. I feel the slight change in gravity as we go to drop, but instead of falling with it he spreads his wings beating them loudly as we flip backwards into our decent, another yelp escaping my lips as we start falling towards the ground in a spinning motion. I was now secretly glad I’d barely eaten breakfast as I would no doubt be struggling to keep it down right now.

Just when I think we’re going to crash into the ground he spreads his wings wide, pulling us upright as we descend into the ground. A ferocious roar of celebration echoes around us as we descend. Hundreds of dragons line the edge of the field, as well as spectators who have filled the stands to watch the bonded riders. As we touch down onto the ground, I notice the formation of dragons. On our side are the new first years with their newly bonded dragons. Across from us are the dragons and riders in second and third year. If it wasn’t for the fact he was my squad leader, I would have thought my dragon picked out spot based on the other dragons colour. Across from us is a dragon I’d only heard Bodhi and others speak about. The biggest and most ruthless dragon in the quadrant. Sgaeyl. Though with how she was eyeing us off, I had a feeling we now rivalled that position.

As my feet touch the ground, I’m met with a different set of eyes. The ones belonging to the rider of Sgaeyl. Xaden. He offers me one of his signature smirks and a brief nod of his head before his attention shifts to his right, where another set of eyes are looking at me. Garrick, who has his usual unimpressed look on his face as I meet his eyes. I give him a vulgar gesture which only worsens the look on his face before I turn to my way down to the roll keeper.

”Do I want to know what you’re problem is with him?”

”Everything. Now what do I call you before I make a fool of myself in front of the roll keeper and that thing I call a father.” I snap back as I start down the make shift path down the middle of the flight field where a line of cadets waits to give their dragons name.

Movement on the dais catches my attention. I knew he would be here. Knew he would be waiting for Dain and I to bond our dragon. I hadn’t even bothered to see if Dain had made it back on my way down. And I wasn’t turning my back on my father to check.

His eyes don’t meet mine. Still too focused on the dragon behind me. I don’t have to be an inninstic to know what he’s thinking. I know exactly what he’s thinking and the lecture I’m definitely getting after I tell the roll keeper his name.

The rider ahead of me finishes telling the roll keeper their dragons name, moving aside to let me move forward. She looks up and offers me a smile. “Ah, Dahlia Aetos. Congratulations on bonding a dragon.” She says as she writes my name down. “For the record, please tell me the name of the dragon who chose you.”

Behind her my father steps forward, close enough to hear the name leave my mouth. I hold my ground, shifting my eyes from the roll keeper to his. The same brown eyes Dain and I inherited. Eyes that I cowered under as a kid. Eyes I had hoped and wanted to look at me with love and adoration while I was a kid. But not now. Now I couldn’t care less how he looked at me, as long as I proved him wrong.

“Now would be a good time to tell me your name.”

”Prothoenor.”

I square my shoulders and lift my chin, the corner of my mouth lifting into a smirk I know my father hates before I announce his name.

”His name is Prothoenor.”

She nods happily, before writing down his name next to mine and motioning for me to move along. I pivot on my heal, tearing my gaze from my fathers. I barely get ten steps away before I hear rushed steps behind me as a hand roughly grabs my arm and spins me around.

I resist the urge to shove my hands out and shove my father away, knowing I will face far worse punishment for disrespecting leadership. It didn’t matter if he was my father. I was a rider and he was a Colonel who out ranked me. It seems the last few days were out to get me with Deja Vu. The last time I had seen so much hatred and rage in his eyes was back in that clearing. The day mother had died. They had he had told me I was no daughter of his.

”What are you playing at bonding that dragon?” He snarls at me as he tightens his grip on my arm as I try to tug it free.

”I am not playing at anything.” I snap back.

”Don’t mess with me girl. You know who that dragon belong to before you.”

I tug again on my arm, finally succeeding at getting it free as I step back. “Yes I am aware who his rider was before me. He was the last family I had left before his suspicious death.”

He recoils slightly at my words before leaning back towards me and pointing a finger at me. “Your grandfathers death was not suspicious. And as I’ve told you before, we will not be discussing his death ever again.”

”You can’t tell me, that sending his squad to an abandoned outpost near no enemy activity and none of them surviving isn’t suspicious.”

Everything about his death sent alarm bells off in my head, especially as I got older. Something never sat quite right with me about it. But any time I’d brought it up I was locked in my room until he’d seen fit to let me out again. And now I had bonded his dragon, I knew his was scared I might find out the truth behind it all.

He goes to step towards me but comes up short as he averts his gaze over my head. Gasps sound around me as those around us turn their gaze behind me. So far our little conversation had gone unnoticed. Until now. The familiar shake of the ground tells me who is approaching. His words from earlier echoing in my head.

I would have done anything to make sure no harm came to you little flower.

And apparently that also extended to my own father. My father who quickly steps back, giving me a fleeting glare before walking back to his place on the dais.

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness

[hazymoonlinh]

Lighter x Reader

Lost n Found

Part1

(Just love this place a lot muehehehe)

Don’t mind the pic

(So the mc was lost in the hollow and having a meltdown after her companions didn’t survive)

The ground beneath you felt cold, the cracked earth pressing into your palms as you slumped against the wall, trying to catch your breath. Your body ached all over—deep, sharp pains where the Ethereals had struck, but it was nothing compared to the heavy emptiness sitting in your chest.

Again, you’re the only one left.

You didn’t even flinch when you heard his footsteps pounding against the hollowed-out ground, his voice slicing through the ringing in your ears.

“There you are!”

Lighter’s voice was hoarse, frantic, raw in a way you hadn’t heard before. You knew he’d find you eventually. He always did. It should’ve mattered. But it didn’t. Not anymore.

You didn’t look up as he stumbled to a halt in front of you, his breath ragged, like he’d been running for days. “Hey. Hey!” He crouched down, trying to meet your eyes, but you kept staring at the ground—at the blood smearing the dirt under your fingertips.

“You’re hurt. Come on, we need to get you out of here—”

“Why am I still alive?”

Your voice broke through his words, soft but sharp enough to make him freeze. He blinked down at you, as though unsure if he’d heard you right.

“…What did you just say?”

You laughed—short, hollow, bitter. It escaped your lips like a cough, a broken thing you couldn’t quite contain. “I fought them. I fought, Lighter. But I shouldn’t have. I should’ve just let it happen. I should’ve just let them take me.”

Lighter’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he didn’t say a word. Then:

“Don’t.”

His voice was low, tight, a warning. But you ignored him.

“I mean, look at me,” you continued, a shaky, almost manic edge creeping into your voice as you gestured weakly to yourself—your torn clothes, the blood staining your skin, the bruises blooming across your arms. “I’m a mess. I can barely stand. I feel like hell, and—”

You cut yourself off with another bitter laugh, your head falling back against the wall. “At least I feel something, though. That’s gotta count for something, right? Pain’s better than nothing. It’s better than the emptiness.”

“Stop it.” Lighter’s voice cracked this time, and you finally looked up at him.

He was staring at you like he didn’t recognize you, his hands trembling at his sides. His green irises burned with something wild, desperate—something you’d never seen in him before.

“Why?” you shot back, your voice rising. “Why should I stop? Why do you care so much, Lighter? Why am I still here? What’s the point of any of this?”

“Because you’re alive!” he snapped, the words exploding from him like he couldn’t hold them back anymore.

Your chest heaved, your fingers curling into the dirt beneath you as you shook your head, a humorless smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah? And for what? I didn’t ask to be saved. I didn’t ask for this life—for this never-ending fight, for this pain that just keeps coming. I didn’t—”

“Stop!” Lighter’s voice thundered through the air, loud enough to cut you off. He grabbed your shoulders suddenly, shaking you just enough to make your head snap up. His hands were firm, his grip almost bruising, but his eyes—those red-ringed eyes—were wide, frantic, pleading.

“You think this is easy for me?” he hissed, his voice rough, unsteady. “You think I haven’t been there? You think I don’t know what it’s like to wake up and wish you hadn’t? To stare down that abyss and want to let it take you?”

You stared at him, stunned, as the cracks in his voice became impossible to ignore.

“I’ve been where you are,” he said, quieter this time. His hands loosened their grip on your shoulders, but they didn’t let go. “I’ve felt it. That weight—the one that keeps pushing you down until you can’t breathe anymore. I know. But you…” He shook his head, swallowing hard. “You don’t get to give up. Not while I’m still here.”

You let out a shaky breath, your lips trembling as you looked away. “You don’t understand—”

“I do,” Lighter cut you off, his voice breaking. He exhaled sharply, letting his hands fall away from your shoulders before running them through his disheveled black-green hair. He looked like he was falling apart right in front of you, trying to hold himself together with shaking hands and broken words.

“I do understand. But you wanna know the difference?” he asked bitterly, dropping to sit in front of you, his knees scraping against the dirt. “I kept fighting. I didn’t think I’d make it out. I didn’t even want to. But I’m still here, and you know why? Because there were people who didn’t give up on me—even when I wanted to give up on myself.”

Your chest tightened painfully, your vision blurring with tears you didn’t want to shed. “Lighter…”

“Don’t you dare tell me your life doesn’t matter,” he said fiercely, his red pupils locking onto you like they were holding you in place. “Don’t you dare. Because it matters to me. You matter to me. And if you think I’m gonna let you slip away just because you think you’re too far gone—”

He broke off, his voice trembling as he looked away, fists clenching at his sides. For a moment, he couldn’t even speak. When he finally looked back at you, his eyes were glassy behind the sunglasses , the sharp edges of his anger softened by something far more painful.

“…I can’t lose you too.”

You choked on a sob, covering your face with your hands as the tears finally spilled over. The pain, the exhaustion, the hopelessness—it all crashed over you like a wave, pulling you under.

The silence that followed your words was sharp, cutting through the air like broken glass. You let out a hollow, humorless laugh, the sound scraping against your throat as you stared at him through blurred vision.

“It’s funny,” you murmured, voice thin, trembling, “because I’m the one who’s supposed to be screaming in despair… and yet…” Your head tilted back against the wall as you looked at him, a ghost of a smile pulling at your cracked lips. “Here you are, doing it in my place.”

Lighter froze. The way you said it—so tired, so empty—made his chest ache in ways he couldn’t explain. You were mocking yourself, mocking him, and yet there was nothing playful about it.

He clenched his jaw, his breathing sharp and uneven as he stared at you. The red in his pupils flared faintly, like embers struggling to reignite. “You think this is funny?” he said, his voice low and strained, trembling with something he was barely holding back.

You shrugged weakly, the motion barely there. “It’s all kind of ridiculous, don’t you think? Me, like this. You, still trying.” You laughed again—a breathless, broken sound. “I don’t even know what you’re fighting for anymore, Lighter.”

“For you,” he snapped, his voice raw, the words tearing from him before he could stop them.

Your mocking smile faltered, your expression slipping as you stared at him. He was breathing hard, his shoulders shaking, his fists trembling at his sides.

“I’m fighting for you, damn it,” Lighter repeated, softer this time, but no less intense. He ran a hand roughly through his hair, his eyes never leaving yours. “You think I’m screaming in your place? Fine. I’ll scream. I’ll yell. I’ll fight as much as it takes, because you won’t. Because you can’t. But that’s why I’m here. That’s why I care.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Lighter dropped to his knees in front of you again, closer this time, his face inches from yours.

“I’ll be the one to pull you back,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less desperate. “I don’t care if you mock me for it. I don’t care if you think it’s stupid or pointless. But you need to understand something—”

His hand reached out hesitantly, trembling before it brushed against your cheek, so light it was barely a touch. “You’re not alone. Not anymore. You don’t have to carry this by yourself.”

Your eyes stung, your chest tightening painfully as his words washed over you. You wanted to argue, to push him away, to tell him he didn’t understand. But the look on his face—the raw, unguarded way he looked at you—stopped you cold.

Lighter exhaled sharply, his thumb brushing against the tear that slipped down your cheek. “Let me scream in your place. Let me fight. Let me carry the weight until you can stand on your own again. Just…” His voice cracked as his hand dropped away. “Don’t you dare leave me here alone.”

You looked at him, your lips parting as if to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you let out another broken laugh, softer this time, as you wiped your eyes with a shaking hand.

“You’re so stubborn,” you muttered weakly.

Lighter huffed out a breath, his lips tugging into a faint, humorless smile. “Takes one to know one, sweetheart.”

The silence that followed was different—no longer sharp and heavy, but fragile, like glass balanced on the edge of a table. You didn’t know if you believed him, if you believed anything would get better.

The world around you had begun to blur—sounds fading into distant echoes, shapes losing their edges until they became nothing but hazy smears of light and shadow. Your body felt heavy, unbearably so, as though the earth itself was pulling you down. The warmth of blood seeping through your clothes spread like ink in water, but you barely registered it.

All you could see, all you could focus on, was Lighter’s face hovering above you.

His usually steady, cool demeanor had shattered completely. Hair clung to his forehead, disheveled and damp with sweat, and his sunglasses were gone, revealing the vibrant red of his pupils that burned with raw panic.

“Stay with me,” he choked out, his voice rough, thick with desperation. “Come on, sweetheart, stay with me.”

You wanted to respond, to say something—anything—to ease that look on his face. But your lips wouldn’t move, your voice wouldn’t come. All you could do was stare at him through heavy-lidded eyes, watching the way his hands trembled as they pressed against your wounds, trying to stop the bleeding.

“This isn’t funny anymore, damn it,” he muttered, his voice cracking as he leaned closer, his breath uneven. “You’re not leaving me. You can’t leave me. I won’t let you.”

You managed a weak smile—a barely there tug at the corner of your mouth—as if to mock him. It was all you could offer, a bittersweet gesture, as the edges of your vision darkened further.

“Please…”

His voice broke on that single word, and you felt his hands press harder, as if trying to keep you tethered to him, to this place.

You could still see him—just barely. His eyes, usually sharp and unwavering, now shimmered with something raw and pleading. His gaze was locked on yours, as though his sheer willpower alone could hold you here.

“Don’t do this,” he whispered hoarsely. “Don’t you dare—”

But his words slipped away, dissolving into the background noise as everything around you faded to black.

The last thing you saw was him—his worried, desperate gaze burning into yours. The last thing you heard was the sound of his voice, fractured and trembling, as he screamed your name.

And then there was nothing.

_____

(I genuinely was having a broke down writing this. Life sucks btw)

[empressgeekt]

Transformers - TFO/Earthspark Time Travel fic summery - An Aged Reflection au (part 1...maybe)

Okay, so the recent movie (GO WATCH IT!) Transformers One, had reignited my hyper fixation for this franchise and as such I come barring a plot summery for a fic prompt. If anyone wants to use this plot in a fic, please just link me so i can read it!

Once more I'm assuming people have seen the movie and at least the first season of the EarthSpark cartoon.

On to the plot!

We start in the past. After getting thrown from the transport train, Orion, Dee, Elita and Bee, are stuck on cybertron's surface, and while a very beautiful place, it is also filled with unknown things, not all of them safe...though it doesn't stop Orion from being curious. What little vegetation the rust wastes have, is fascinating to him and it's only Dee holding him back from him faceplanting into his first patch of grass to "See what it feels like". There are abandoned buildings and some part of Orion wonders what they mean, likely there were some bots who lived on the surface long ago before the quintessions, and he wants to know what their lives were like. To live in a world underneath the sun, with stars to sing them to sleep.

Dee is the only one who actually entertains Orion's questions. Elita is too focused on her map, and Bee is rambling too much to pay attention to anyone else talking. And Dee has to admit, it does make him wonder too. Sure the surface is clearly dangerous, especially to some bots who don't have any survival instincts, but seeing all that was left behind before they were forced underground, there is a sense of loss. What would've been life if the Quintessions never invaded? It likely wouldn't have effect him being a no-cog, but would there be cities up here? The Primes would still be around, maybe they would've expanded globally. Some part of him imagines living a city built by Megatronus. It would've been grand, no question. Looking out on the horizon of his home planet, he hopes to come back here once it's all over. Maybe with the Matrix returned, Sentinel would start construction on a city on the surface. Maybe Dee could visit. He would like to see the sun rise again in his life.

However, Dee would later regret Orion influencing him with curiosity As half way through the journey, the ever shifting surface of Cybertron opens a fissure a head of them, and they can't cross until the landscape changes again. Deciding to camp out and try again in the morning. During the night a weird light comes from the fissure and long story short they all get sucked in...and blackout...

Orion wakes up in a pool of water, though he doesn't recognize the liquid. He's in an underground cave but the walls aren't made of the metallic stone he's used too, they are too soft and crumbly. The others are knocked out around him, but quickly come too. Thankfully the cave isn't too deep and they make there way back to a surface...but it's not the surface of Cybertron. The ground is too soft, the sky is blue, and the world is covered in "weird nature". First theory, the fissure transferred them to a new biome on Cybertron's surface, however that is quickly disproven when their map glitches out saying their location is not found. Much everyone's but Bee's frustration. Orion tries to keep the spirits up, saying they'll find help. If this is another planet they could be the first to make contact with aliens, to which Elita responds, "Oh great aliens, you mean like when the quintessions found us?"

His efforts are unappreciated...Especially when they were sudden surrounded by Arachnamechs.

All this is going down late season one of Earthspark, so Mandroid has already joined up with Croft, and once four unknown energon signatures showed up on their surveillance systems, they would be going after our no-cog crew. Especially since they don't read as a Con or a Bot.

Our youngling group have no weapons to defend themselves with, Miners weren't allowed to have any and they didn't have any built in, so they try to run. Dee making sure that the others have shielding from the laser fire, however the GHOST troops mistake him for a decepticon due to his Megatronus decal. So, they end up focusing most of their assault on him, eventually nailing with a T-cog disrupter. However, due to his lack of cog, the only thing the device can do is paralyze him. Which freaks Dee the frag out, like he already can't transform, moving is really the only control of his body that he has. These aliens are tiny, but they already have an effective way of taking them down. He sends one last comm to the others, to run, and find the matrix, the planet needs it more then him...even if he's scared out of his mind.

It takes a lot for Elita and Bee to pull Orion away from the sense but they can't help Dee if they captured too. They need to regroup, get more information.

Let's switch gears. Megatron had been sticking around the Malto home for the past day or two. Robby is supposedly cured from what ever was making him ill, but the big mech wants to stay close by just to be sure. He hadn't been able to be around while his Nephew was ill due to Croft sending him out on a useless assignment, but the moment it was over he demanded the time off he was in fact entitled too (all Ghost employees got two weeks of vacation a year). The only reason that the agents who did his release papers didn't die of fright was that he was more concerned for the children, and he was more pissed off at someone else. Quintus Prime. Fancy title or not, dead or not, Primus above you don't mess with his niblings. And as far as Megatron understood it, it was Quintus' cyber-sleeve that was making his nephew ill. Now he was grateful that the aliment was treated quickly, but it shouldn't have happened in the first place. Robby was a child, and didn't deserve what happened.

Though, maybe his frustrations with the whole situation came from his own personal experiences with Primes. Sentinel's betrayal against his people is something Megatron had never been able to forget, and the cyber-sleeve is sort of the same non-consensual body alternation that Sentinel pulled so long ago with the mining class's T-cogs. Don't get him wrong, Megatron cared about his niblings, all seven of them, but the other's lives shouldn't cost one of their siblings'. It's a good thing the little ones have him distracted with a game of dodge ball, otherwise he'd be researching how to hunt ghosts, despite him not believing in them.

Twitch gets him out and he's forced to sit on the sidelines with Dorothy. The human gripes about her signature scanner acting up again, and Megatron takes interest. Apparently for the last couple hour a few un-identifiable signals, popped up and three of them hadn't gone away. Seeing as the children were still far from done with their game, He decides to give the location a fly by before the next round started up. He doesn't notice Twitch sneaking off to follow him.

Meanwhile, with D-16, he's kept paralyzed during the transport and is eventually taken down to the brig. Which doesn't not make him feel better. Every decepticon inside of there is staring at him, and it makes him feel much smaller then he really is. The bots in the cells had cogs, weapons. They were taken down by what ever these aliens were, no wonder he didn't stand a chance. What were these little things, hopefully they couldn't get off world, if they invaded cybertron...Dee is uncermoniously thrown into a cell, where he curls up in the corner, trying vary hard not to be noticed.

Croft does however. The bitter human woman, when informed of the weird reaction that Dee had to the T-cog disrupter, is paranoid that the cons are finding a way to hack into their defense systems/weaponry. So, she clues Mandroid in on the new...specimen. She wants to know what makes this little con tick.

Soundwave, keeps his eye on the little new comer, for two reasons. One, no one had seen any cogless bots since before the fall of sentinel prime, and two, merely the age of this con. He's young far too young to be in a place like this. No way this little one committed any war crimes yet. And judging by the pity filled glances shared between him and his fellow decepticon's he's not the only one to notice. Heck, this kid wasn't even using a translation program, still speaking Iaconian and looking very confused whenever the humans spoke in English. Perhaps the little one was a recently activated protoform that was saved when they left Cybertron? Soundwave doesn't know and he doesn't get a chance to ask. The little con is paralyzed again and is taken to the room, where bots are broken.

The remaining miners are still wandering around aimlessly. Bee is now rendered silent after Dee was kidnapped. Elita is still trying to get the map to work, while Orion is just trying not to have a break down. He wanted to help his planet, not get his best friend abducted by aliens. They had stumbled onto what looked by a settlement, but even Orion's curiosity about these creatures was overridden by fear of getting captured. Clearly they weren't friendly. So needless to say when the Arachnamechs, track them down again. They run, and Orion tries to draw the attention of the drones away from Bee and Elita, and accidentally jumps off of a cliff. In the middle of his screaming as he watches the ground ever quickly rushing to meet him. and un-known voice calls out "grab on!" A rusty red colored drone flies over head and he latches on with all his might.

Twitch might have gotten lost, when she chased after he uncle, but in her defense his alt-mode was much fasters then hers, besides she wasn't really lost, mom had taught her all about navigating the woods. However, the weird bot that just leaped off of the water fall cliff, clearly didn't have the same training. Twitch immediately turns back and catches him, shooting the Arachnamechs with her emp, and then landing on the far river bank. It's only after she transforms that she realizes this guy is just a little bit taller than her and that's kind of surprising, after all, she's tiny compared to other transformers. Though his size is probably the only reason she could carry him.

She's not the only one surprised by the size similarities, Orion is as well. No bot with a cog was ever this small, or at least he hadn't seen one. Twitch as she introduces herself, is wonderful in his understanding, most cogged bots would've let him fall and Orion knows this, however she saved him and helped calm his panic ranting when he realized that only some of the Arachnamechs followed him when he broke off from the group. Twitch listens and is horrified to learn that Dee was kidnapped and offers to help, saying they need to find her "uncle" (whatever that word meant), and transforming to take off. Orion is baffled by her confusion over the fact that he's cogless. When he gestures to the empty slot in his chestplating, he wasn't expecting the heartbroken look on her faceplate, but thankfully Twitch doesn't dwell on it, and instead leads Orion through the forest on foot.

While running in the direction of where he, Eltia and Bee split off from each other, Orion just can't help but ask a number of questions on his mind. Like Where they were? How did a cybertronian get here? What were those little drone things

"Oh wow, lot's of questions. Okay first off, we're on earth, and I didn't get here I was born here. I guess you like call me a sub-species of cybertronian, created by Quintus prime."

"Quintus Prime? But he's been dead for cycles."

"Yeah I know, he once sent off little emberstones, to planets far out of reach to make new life on them, me and my family are the result of one of those stones."

"Oh, so, you're earthians???"

"*giggle* We call ourselves Terrons, thank very much."

Orion is fascinated to learn that Quintus had tried to make colony worlds before his demise, maybe it had been a last ditch effort to escape the quintessions, or some way to make new recruits for the high guard in secret. Either way it didn't matter, clearly Twitch or her "family" (what did that word mean?) hadn't been in contact with cybertron for a long time, likely meaning what ever Quintus was planning failed to happen. Still, this meant Orion could actually get help with a home team advantage, and Twitch did say she's help get Dee get back. Twitch had already proven she understood the weird planet around them when she pointed out that she was tracking Elita and Bee by following the footprints in the soft ground and broken nature surrounding them, two factors that Orion had completely missed. He'd have to meet this "Mom" to see if she'd teach him how to read an organic world like that.

Meanwhile with Megatron, tracking the signals had been easier then he thought, whoever these saps were they were not good at covering their tracks. When the signals split up he decided to go after the bigger group. One bot was easier to pin down then two. Besides one of them was screaming very loudly, and it was for a good reason as Megatron would soon find out. Two very small figures, one pink one yellow, were dashing away from a sizable snare of Arachnamechs. Later he could let himself ponder as to how Mandroid survived, and why he was still going after transformers, but first he needed to keep these little ones out of the madman's hands. He calls out for the bots to take cover as he swoops in to make quick word of the drones.

Elita wasn't expecting for a giant warframe to come flying out of nowhere, but she wasn't about to disobey someone of higher stature when they were helping them. She didn't recognize the grey mech, though Bee's quiet panic rambling through out the chase gave a couple of theories, a surviving member of the high guard, maybe one of the mechs sentinel trained, or maybe a rogue gladiator who decided to say frag it and go find real monsters to fight for the pit of it. By watching him fight it was clear that he was at least trained in combat. Then Bee mutters something that sends chills down Elita's nerve struts, "He's wearing the same sigil as the guys who took Dee!" Elita, in probably the most stupid thing she could do (she blames pax's influence), punches the unknown mech when he gets close.

Megatron was not upset at the pink bot for hitting him as soon as he turned, some bots just had lasting battle reflexes and would lash out against a stranger...or more likely a perceived enemy...it was actually a really good hit too. They wont come of the large rock they too cover behind, and the yellow one won't stop screaming, but eventually Megatron gets a good look at who he's dealing with and is suddenly struct with flashback galore. The first thing he notices is their cogless status and parts of him burn with rightous anger and need to protect them. Then he notices their faceplates, faceplates from a time before, a Bumblebee who was still slightly crazy from long term isloation, and an Elita who was young and brash before Optimus softened her drive for success with his love and dorkyness. Denial sets in rather then acceptance, no way was this happening now, then Megatron hears the voice of his young niece and with her is someone who makes it very clear THIS IS NOT A DREAM!!!

Orion was initally very concerned when he heard the sound of blasters in the woods, but Twitch recongized the sound, as her "uncle"s gun, so he tried not to panic. They end up catching the tail end of the scrummage, and wow, this Terron, as he was lead to believe, was huge! Big, silver, covered in weapons, and with red optics that burned with the fire of a great warrior. It was both awe inspiring and terrifiing to watch, sure Orion had seen violance in the mines, Darkwing was not a peaceful person, but it was nothing like this. Twitch wasn't shocked, clearly used to this, if Terrons had to deal with whatever those little creatures that took Dee were, maybe Terrons had to fight to stay alive. Twitch only added more to Orion's wondering when a lone Arachnamech leaped out of the trees, after the fight was seemingly over, and shot it point blank, ("Uncle Megatron! Look out!" "Well, done Little Bird").

Megatron never thought he would see Orion Pax again. Yes, he saw Optimus on the daily, has for centuries but Optimus wasn't Pax. When Orion was given the matrix, when he shot Orion, some part of Megatron was convinced his friend was dead, gone with the allspark. That he had killed his brother...his grief and guilt coming out as unchecked rage...when Optimus ascended, Megatron rejected him, this wasn't his brother, this was a monster, the Primes were using his brother's corpse to hold power over all bots like him, puppetting him around with that matrix they held so dearly. When he had swore to kill Optimus all those stellar cycles ago, it wasn't for revenge, it was to put his brother to rest peacefully. It had taken a long time, bad blood, and many mistakes for Megatron to see the Pax in Prime again. Yet, here standing in front of him is a perfect re-creation of Orion Pax. However, Twitch pulls him out of his trance by rambling, about everything that happened to her and orion, and hearing that his niece met the young version of his brother after he fell from a cliff, only convinces him that this is a case of time travel.

Orion tries to ignore the look the bigger terron gave him in favor of talking to Elita and Bee, he starts rambling about how this planet also had transformers and everything else Twitch told him, however his excitement is dampered when Elita pointed out Bee observation about the big terron's sigil. He doesn't' want to believe it, looking at the mech, and how he is so gentle with Twitch getting down to her level and paying close attention to her flurry of words, but at the same time, he was still such a fearsome warrior,. Orion really wants to the trust Twitch, after all she had no reason to lie to him, and she did save him from the fall. So, Despite Bee and Elita 's hesitanece, when the big silver mech turns to them.

The mech introduces himself as Megatron (big fan of Megatrounus, obviously, Dee would like him) and seems to be questioning Orion about everything that he had told Twitch, the younger cybertronian was a bout to ask why, when this jem of a line left Megatron's mouth, "Of course, you are from right before everything went to the slag, Dang it, Pax I just had to forget your horrible timing."

Orion never told this mech his name, nor did twitch, which prompted the young terron to ask if her uncle knew Orion.

"I'd recognize the mech i woke up to every morning for the first cycles of my life."

"Dee...?"

"It's good to see you Pax."

Megatron is almost surprised that he can still read every single emotion, that rapidly washes over Orion. Denial, disbelief, and everything else. Thankfully though it only took Megatron mentioning the incident where Orion tired to transform with out a cog, for the group to believe him. Though he could've done without little bee sobbing and clinging to his leg, saying "What did those monsters do to you!" Which led to an explanation about how he was not their kidnapped friend, but rather who D-16 would become in the future. There's a lot of very fast questions from all the younger bots and eventually Megs has to tell them to go one at a time, And that he'll answer their question as they walk, because he needs to get them all out of the open and back to the Malto farm to keep them safe.

And boy do they ask questions..."How long has it been for you?" "Couple million cycles." "Why are you wearing that sigil." "to stay our of trouble." "You changed your name?" "D-16 doesn't really count as a name on earth." "What's an uncle?" "Earth functions differently socially then on Cybertron, the youth are given to older members of society to be cared for and taught, rather then being put to work right after the well. I am not one of Twitch's main caregivers, her "mom" and "Dad", however i am close to one of them, making me a secondary role model for her, an "uncle"." "How'd you end up on earth?" "A very long story." "How'd you get a cog?" "A very VERY long story."

Twitch is a little baffled through out the ride home like, it's weird enough to meet the younger version of the older bots in her life, but they are all so different then their older selves. Orion is so much more energetic and reckless then Mr. Optimus (Uncle Megatron had to talk him down from storming the Ghost headquarters at least twice in the same conversation), B-127 is constantly chattering and Twitch feels so bad he doesn't have an actual name either (she tells him he changes it, and he asks if it's "badassatron", which makes bother her and Megatron laugh), and young Miss Elita is such a stickler for rules!

Bumblebee is the one who first sees them at the the farm, seeing Megatron first ....

Megs: Bumblebee! Do you recall how we met?! before all the slag his the fan?!

Bumblebee: Do you mean back in sub-levels? Yeah why?

Megs: Do you ever remember taking an unplanned visit to the future after we reached the surface?!

Bumblebee: What?!

-----

I'll do a part two if people want to see it

[rosegoldrosieee]

so high school

while flesh-eating walkers had seemingly crushed your long-held dreams of experiencing romance as a teenager, carl grimes made you feel so high school.

♡ carl x f!reader, fluff, implied suggestiveness, friends to lovers (sorta), ambiguously alexandria, reader has a spine

a/n: wrote this yesterday hiding in the bathroom during lunch on my school-licensed chromebook for maximum immersion

it was times like these, standing outside on someone’s back porch to get away from boisterous conversations and forced interactions, that reminded you of stupid high school chick flicks with cheesy one-liners, twenty-something actors playing sixteen-year-olds, and predictable love triangles.

you never got to navigate and, most importantly, surmount pubescent awkwardness, nor gush about crushes at sleepovers, because by your twelfth birthday, the dead somehow began to roam the earth.

out of sheer necessity, you’d eschewed any shot at teenage romance for survival skills, and effectively turned into a wallflower when you rejoined civilized society.

a gentle tap on your shoulder snapped you out of your reverie.

“hey.”

there stood the very reason you were even thinking about early-2000s romance movies in the first place: a chronically flannel-clad, one-eyed cowboy, notorious for merely sharing the same last name as the de facto leader of alexandria, now two feet in front of you holding a shot glass of fruit punch.

“didn’t mean to scare you.” he says with a sheepish grin plastered on his face.

“the only thing that’s scaring me is what you’re using as a vessel for your fruit punch.”

“everyone used up all the solo cups so i had to dig around in the cabinets,” he replies nonchalantly, holding up the glass. “why are you out here?”

why were you out here?

…

you can’t even remember.

“i don’t know.”

it’s hard to think, much less remember, anything when carl’s looking at you like that, arms crossed and leaning forward onto the banister, blue eyes boring into your own.

“did you even hear me?” he taps your hand that’s resting on the ledge gently, his lips quirking up with the ghost of an amused smile.

your eyes flick up to meet his attentively. “…what?”

“wow, you’re really out of it today,” he laughs, sipping from his shot glass. “forget it.”

you shift your weight, shaking your head. “well, i’m listening now, so tell me.”

his fingers are fidgeting with yours, you realize. tapping gently on your knuckles. intentionally, unintentionally? it was cute either way.

he tilts his head. “i just want to know what you’re thinking about.”

you shrug, as dismissively as you possibly can. swallowing down the butterflies that threatened to crawl into your throat.

“getting away from this stupid ass party.”

he raises an eyebrow, tone skeptical. “and?”

you narrow your eyes. it was a bad habit, using vitriol to mask your emotions. you were well aware. “what do you mean, ‘and’?”

“‘cause you’re smart,” his lips curl into a smirk. “that’s not all you’re thinking about. you’re never all…spaced out, like this.”

fuck you, carl grimes.

“i’m just tired,” you fib. your eyes drift to your hand, intertwined with carl’s, before quickly looking away. “you’re reading into it too much.”

“only because you’re not acting normal,” he teases, a dimpled grin gracing his features before he adds, “and you definitely would’ve pulled away by now if you didn’t want this.”

you steal a glance at your entangled hands again, heat rising to your face before you ask, skeptical, “what are you trying to do, exactly?”

“what do you think i’m trying to do?”

you glance to the side furtively, tongue-tied, still able to hear the muffled revelry through the shut screen door, before your eyes trace over his features again.

you wanted to wipe that shit-eating grin off his face so badly.

tugging at the collar of his unbuttoned flannel, you shift your weight to the balls of your feet, connecting your lips to his fruit-punch-stained ones.

you swear you’ll never drink hawaiian punch, or any drink with red-40 in the ingredients list, again without imagining the taste of him lingering on your lips.

expression tinged with a gradient of conflicting emotions when you pull away, you open your mouth to say something— and then he pulls you in this time, words dying in your throat with a soft whimper.

the party fades into an afterthought until you hear the screen door open just around the corner, thudding against the frame. quickly, you disentangle yourself from his arms, faces still flushed.

it’s rick, his rugged, stubbled face and piercing gaze (so it must be hereditary, you wagered) flickering between the two of you suspiciously, nodding at you curtly.

“carl.”

thank god for your quick reflexes — those, at least, hadn’t deteriorated just because you were sheltered by alexandria.

carl swallows, freckled face flushed as he quickly looks at you, panic etched on his face. the evidence of your little affair conveniently disguised by the shadow of his cowboy hat and the darkness of the night.

“dad, can’t we stay a little longer?”

“think the party’s ‘bout over.”

you peer into the ajar casement windows, abandoned solo cups decorating the vacant living room, watching abraham stagger into the mudroom and nearly take a shelf with him when he topples forward. rosita, unamused, rolls her eyes, grumbling something unintelligible before dragging him along.

before the grimes family gets into a fight, you take it upon yourself to leave first, retrieving your cardigan that was hanging on the banister. “see you around, carl. bye, mr. grimes.”

both of them wave as you disappear into tree-lined streets, intermittently illuminated by uniform streetlights.

as soon as you’re out of earshot and out of sight, you let out a pleasant sigh, smiling from ear to ear like an absolute idiot as your hands reached up to feel your flushed cheeks, still hot to the touch as you giggle to yourself at the incredulity of it all.

at home, once the high had worn off, or more realistically, ebbed for the time being, you shed your cardigan, scrutinizing the crimson patches blooming on the side of your neck in the mirror, smiling like a fool.

these were the only kind of bites you’d ever tolerate.

[yandereunsolved]

How do you think various mgs characters (whichever ones you want) would deal with a hiding darling? wether it be in a box or emth else

Assuming darling is probably attempting to escape, ik my ass is trying at every opportunity. As most would try. After all mgs's whole thing is sneaking about

-📦 anon

Me when Box Anon appears: 😍 .ᐟ

You always have the best asks.

Evil polycule (Big Boss, Kazuhira, and Ocelot), Liquid Snake (MGS1), & Raiden (MGS2 and MGRR)

“ ‎Big Boss ” ― He loves it if you hide. Now, he sees it as an act of not only disobedience but also betrayal; however, he still loves it. It's a chance to pounce on you. To test you. To get an adrenaline rush and have an excuse to be nearer to you.

You hiding from him...? Big Boss himself. The master of stealth. disguise. and more. It's laughable. But if you give him a good challenge then he won't be as angry.

Hiding in boxes is incredibly obvious to him. Points to you for going to the classics.

Likes pining you down when he finds you. He likes making you flustered. He's obsessed with seeing you reacting to him. Will either tease or threaten you, depending on his mood.

tease

"Mhm, so the Snake caught its prey. Should I swallow you whole or savor the taste? How poisonous do you think my fangs are?"

threaten

"Careful, doll. One could mistake this as deserting. Soldiers who desert their posts deserve to be punished. You'd rather not survive that."

“ Ocelot ” ― Let's be honest, you were probably escaping his 'interrogation'. He doesn't like dragging these things out. But he wants to test you. He likes seeing your instincts kick in. Just how good are they?

He'll be speaking to you in Russian. And if you do understand Russian, then he'll switch to a language you don't understand. He drops little hints here and there. They are important pieces of information that could help you escape. If only you understood. You could be one step closer to freedom.

Alas, he isn't that kind.

Watch out for the needle(s) he's carrying. He'll put you down and out as soon as he finds you. You've already fought back enough. Now it's time for a nap. Sleep well. You'll be regretting your decision when you wake up.

“ Kazuhira ” ― Pre-Peace Walker Kaz is sillier about it. He's worried but he laughs it off. It's creepy. He has this strained smile. His hand struggles to run smoothly through his hair. He can't stop his deranged chuckles. He thinks you hiding in a box is just another part of your trickery. It's an invitation. You're hiding cheekily. You want to have fun. He's more than willing to participate.

Post-Peace Walker Kaz is more somber. He's like a grumpy old man. He walks down the corridors briskly and shouts at any soldier that tries to question him. It's safe to say that he isn't the least bit amused. And he sounds like a strict parent.

"Stop this foolishness. You are old enough to use your words. You know being found is inevitable."

He may go soft for a moment when he finds you hiding, especially if it's in a box. He'll huff and shake his head.

"Old habits die hard."

If you don't attack him then he may sit with you in silence. He'll use his arm to pull you closer, urging you to take comfort in his presence.

"Why?"

Oh, that is a dangerous question. Tread lightly, or you may end up in the hands of your sadistic Russian lover.

―

“ Liquid Snake ” ― He treats it like it's a game. He has this eerie hum he does while searching for darling. He slowly becomes more unhinged the longer darling hides from him. His patience runs thinner, which means your punishment will be worse.

"Are you done playing this game? Come on out, darling. You know I'll find you. It's just a matter of time."

He revels in the power he holds over darling. When he finds them he'll bend down and smile, patting their head as if they were a child.

"Found you," he murmurs, "playtime's over."

―

“ Raiden (MGS2) ” ― Gets spooked. He thinks someone took you. He tries not to panic. Still, the nasty feeling rises within him. He feels like he needs to vomit. It's like someone took his heart and plunged it into his bowels.

Treats darling almost like a cat. He's softly calling out to you. His movements are slow and purposeful. They are swift. He checks under every box. Twice.

There's a chance you may encounter him after a switch. Jack doesn't know what's going on. All he knows is that you aren't here anymore. He may start crying.

There's a 50/50 that it's a manipulation tactic. He may genuinely be scared.

After he finds you, or you come out, he cuddles you for awhile. He holds onto like a lifeline. Even if you tried to attack him he'd hold you. He's convinced you're just having an episode. This isn't how you really feel. It's just your silly mind making a silly little decision.

Part of him can't fathom why you'd want to escape him. Is he not good enough for you?

“ Raiden (MGRR) ” ― It depends on what mood you have caught him in. He may try to coax you out. He more than likely already knows where you are. He's just giving you a chance before Ripper takes over. Raiden does his best to make sure that does not happen. A part of him understands what you are going through. Another understands that it's selfish to keep you.

But doesn't he deserve to have one person in his life that loves him?

The Ripper may force his way out. And he isn't one to waste time. It doesn't matter where you're hiding. You'll be yanked up and carried back to where ever you were being held.

"Wrong choice... love. You're lucky I like you more than my blades. Try again―and that may change."

(Jack will apologize profusely later, patching up whatever injuries you sustained from Ripper's rough treatment.)

[flowercrowngods]

a tiny thing for @eddiemonth day 06: crush & sincere

“I will crush you beneath my heel like vermin.”

Like thunder, the evil wizard’s voice rolls over the battlefield, leaving fear in the heart of everyone who’s alive enough to hear it and rattling the bones of those who aren’t.

Men and women alike, soldiers and knights and able bodied young men, watch with bated breath as Sir Steven, the bravest of them all, rises to his feet again beside the black-clad wizard, his grip on his trusty sword never wavering as he wipes blood and sweat from his face.

There he stands, heroic as ever, meeting the evil wizard’s eyes with a heated glare of his own.

“Try,” he says, standing his ground as his voice, too, is carried over the battlefield. Carried, indeed, for the wind blows in his favour, the sun shines only for him, and the ground beneath his feet holds him up like a trusted friend, a most beloved brother.

Sir Steven reaches towards his neck, feeling the band of leather against overheated skin, a charm resting just above his heart — right where it belongs.

The wizard doesn’t have what he has.

***

A soft chuckle abruptly changes the scenery and rips Eddie into a different world once more; sun glazed battlefields replaced with the darkness of his room, hard soil replaced with the softness of his bed, and a knight turns into a beautiful boy wearing his favourite shirt.

“A magic used guitar pick necklace? Is that what the evil wizard king doesn’t have?”

Steve’s eyes are closed but the smile on his lips shines bright, and Eddie can’t even be mad about the interruption. He reaches out a hand and trails his fingers through Steve’s hair, gently combing back the locks sticking to his sweaty forehead. The smile dims a little, turning into something more genuine.

“I can’t believe you interrupted me at the best part there, Stevie. I was going to make a heroic entrance as a dragon shifter, called to the knight simply by touching the charm.” He keeps up his slow and gentle caresses, his hands trialing down to Steve’s cheeks and neck, where Eddie’s necklace clings to overheated skin indeed. “It means a lot, you know, a charm like that.”

Steve hums, moving closer to Eddie, seeking his warmth and his touch alike, and Eddie can’t possibly refuse him.

“It could save the world, you mean?”

“Hmm. The world. A young boy’s heart. And everything in between.”

Steve blindly reaches for Eddie’s hand and brushes a kiss to his knuckles, and another for good measure.

There’s a weight to their words that’s not meant for moments like this, but it hangs in the air nonetheless, and Eddie breathes it in. The weight of a past survived and a future acknowledging that. Both of them shared like this moment. A promise.

“So what happens next? With Sir Steven and the evil wizard, and with Eddie the dragon shifter. That’s very fitting, by the way, you little hoarder,” Steve laughs, still keeping his eyes closed, and Eddie can’t help but join in, overwhelmed with affection for this boy.

This sunshine boy who’s having a bad day and a fever but still manages to be the most radiant thing in the world. This wonderful boy who asked Eddie to stay and tell him a story until he falls asleep.

“Don’t feel good? Do you wanna stay in bed, baby?”

“Yeah. Can you stay?”

“Of course. Cuddles?”

“Could you maybe… Could you tell me a story?

“I’ll tell you any story you want, sunshine.”

This incredible, insufferable boy who’s too nosy and too sassy for his own good, interrupting Eddie here and there to ask questions or give a snarky little comment that’s dripping with fondness whether he’ll admit it or not.

This boy. His boy. With the smile and the wild bed head and the insistent tug on Eddie’s hand to tell him what happens next.

And so Eddie continues his story about the evil wizard being defeated and the world celebrating the heroics of the knight and his dragon and their unlikely band of friends. If he adds a little Lord of the Rings imagery here and there, Steve won’t know about it anyway.

Before he reaches the end, Steve’s hand goes slack where it’s tangled with Eddie’s, and his breath evens out, the smile never quite fading from his lips. Eddie keeps talking, though his voice is hushed now and thick with a smile of his own now.

He loves him. God, he loves him so, so much, he can barely stand it.

“Good night, Stevie,” he whispers even though it’s barely three in the afternoon. He gets up and out of bed, tucking the blanket around Steve’s sleeping form and brushing one more kiss to his hair before sneaking out of the room on slow, quiet steps.

Outside, Wayne is reading a book on the porch, a cigarette in his hand. Eddie snatches one from the pack and leans over his old man to brush a kiss to his hair, too, feeling far too full of affection right now and needing to let it out. There is a sincerity inside him that needs to be shared.

Wayne lets out a gruff kind of hum, but Eddie isn’t so easily fooled, smiling as he lights his cig.

“How’s your boy?” Wayne asks.

“Asleep for now.”

“Good.” There’s a moment of silence between them and Eddie closes his eyes against the afternoon sun for a moment, drawn back to his story. “You let me know if he needs anything.”

“Of course. Thanks, Wayne.”

“Sure. Just wouldn’t wanna be crushed like vermin, is all.”

The laugh bubbles out of Eddie before he can help it, sincerity replaced by something lighter, something manageable for now as he lets his uncle bully him for telling ridiculous stories to the boy he loves so endlessly.

[canary-prince]

Poems I Associate With Various Yellowjackets Characters

I'd make edits of them if I was motivated enough. I can't find one I like for Mari and I have a single stanza I like for Akilah but wish something more substantial and had showed up for her. If you guys are into poetry, feel free to make suggestions.

Shauna: deeply-rooted, Spider Perry, full text

mugwort and the water boils red willow and the sickle harvests pennyroyal and the sun dries juniper and the tea steeps wild carrot drink deep, drink up silphium we will hold you through it black cohosh until you rise from your bed of blood Natalie: To The Young Who Want To Die, Gwendolyn Brooks, full text

Sit down. Inhale. Exhale. The gun will wait. The lake will wait. The tall gall in the small seductive vial will wait will wait: will wait a week: will wait through April. You do not have to die this certain day. Death will abide, will pamper your postponement. I assure you death will wait. Death has a lot of time. Death can attend to you tomorrow. Or next week. Death is just down the street; is most obliging neighbor; can meet you any moment.

You need not die today. Stay here–through pout or pain or peskyness. Stay here. See what the news is going to be tomorrow.

Graves grow no green that you can use. Remember, green’s your color. You are Spring.

Lottie: Crepuscule, e.e. cummings, full text with modified formatting

I will wade out until my thighs are steeped in burn- ing flowers I will take the sun in my mouth and leap into the ripe air with closed eyes to dash against darkness in the sleeping curves of my body Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery with chasteness of sea-girls Will I complete the mystery of my flesh I will rise after a thousand years lipping flowers and set my teeth in the silver of the moon

Misty: Me Up At Does, e.e. cummings, full text

Me up at does

out of the floor quietly Stare

a poisoned mouse

still who alive

is asking What have i done that

You wouldn’t have

Laura Lee: Queen of Swords , Judy Grahn, brief quote

She is veiled You can only see part of her at a time-- a crescent, like the moon. Even so, she is so luminious she hurts the eyes.

Van: Death Comes To Me Again, Dorianne Laux, full text

Death comes to me again, a girl in a cotton slip, barefoot, giggling. It’s not so terrible she tells me, not like you think, all darkness and silence. There are windchimes and the smell of lemons, some days it rains, but more often the air is dry and sweet. I sit beneath the staircase built from hair and bone and listen to the voices of the living. I like it, she says, shaking the dust from her hair, especially when they fight, and when they sing.

Taissa: Let July Be July, Morgan Harper Nichols, full text

Let July be July

Let August be August

And let yourself be

Even in the uncertainty

You don’t have to fix everything

You don’t have to solve everything

And you can still find peace and grow

In the wild of changing things

Akilah: Tea, Leila Chatti, single stanza

I can barely get out of bed. So I make tea. I stand at the window while I wait. My feet are cold and the radio plays its little sounds. I do the small thing I know how to do to care for myself. I am trying to notice joy which means survive. I do this all day, and then the next.

Jackie: a girl is asked about herself for the first time, Spencer Wollan, full text

i was at the dinner table the first time someone told me, “God does not exist.” I haven’t had a dream since then.

sometimes, i imagine dying like it’s a good magic trick—sometimes, i imagine dying and it feels like driving home

often, i want to pry open the mouth of a lion cut out her tongue, and wait for her to fight back with just teeth

what i mean to say, is i’m nothing to scream about. nothing to shine a light on or give a pair of hands to.

what i mean to say, is i’m just another way out of the ocean.

what i mean to say, is i drove home from my own baptism fully believing i had just narrowly escaped drowning.

Mari:

Travis: If I Never See You Again, Charles Bukowski, full text with intact formatting

If I never see you again I will always carry you inside outside

on my fingertips and at brain edges

and in centers centers of what I am of what remains

Melissa: Her Kind, Anne Sexton, full text with slightly modified formatting

I have gone out, a possessed witch, haunting the black air, braver at night; dreaming evil, I have done my hitch over the plain houses, light by light: lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind. A woman like that is not a woman, quite. I have been her kind. I have found the warm caves in the woods, filled them with skillets, carvings, shelves,    closets, silks, innumerable goods; fixed the suppers for the worms and the elves:    whining, rearranging the disaligned. A woman like that is misunderstood. I have been her kind. I have ridden in your cart, driver, waved my nude arms at villages going by,    learning the last bright routes, survivor    where your flames still bite my thigh and my ribs crack where your wheels wind.    A woman like that is not ashamed to die.    I have been her kind.

Callie: The Girl With Antlers, Ansel Elkins, First stanza

I tore myself out of my own mother's womb. There was no other way to arrive in this world. A terrified midwife named me Monster and left me in the pine woods with only the moon. My mother's blood dripped from my treed head.

In a dream, my mother came to me and said if I was to survive I must find joy within my own wild self.

When I awoke I was alone in solitude's blue woods.

[wardenofdragons]

|| Iskar of Ravenholm - formerly known as the Huntsman

They say that when he appears, it's like a great shadow passing over the sea. His dragon's wings are big enough to blot out the Sun, and before you know it, your ship has burst into flame.

Smoke envelops you, the air fills with the screams of your crew and the roaring of dragons, and through the hellfire you see his silhouette.

The Huntsman.

And next to him you see his dragon, already eyeing you.

It's a Night Fury. It's bigger than any other you've seen, with scales that blend into the black smoke and wings bigger than the sails of your ship. It's eyes look white against the sea of red around it, and as it begins to prowl closer, snarling, teeth flashing, you find yourself thinking,

This must be what Death looks like.

But the Huntsman holds up a hand, his voice rising above the crackling flames as he says, "Wait." and the dragon halts.

One word.

One word, and Death listens, and turns away from your cowering form to return to its master's side. The Huntsman's outline is dark against the raging inferno that is now your ship, and through your blurry vision, you can see dragons swirling along with the rising smoke. The same dragons you spent weeks trapping and transporting from ship to ship, now free, their angered cries loud enough to make your ears ring.

They all scatter like embers in the wind, until all that remains are you and your crewmates on the burning ship.

And the Huntsman.

He turns to you, then, and you see him properly for the first time since he arrived. The head of the black wolf skin he wears rests on his shoulder, it's glass eyes glinting in the firelight. The Huntsman's face is covered by shadow, but his eyes are bright, and for a moment you can't tell them apart from the wolf's. He's clad in black- or perhaps it's the light behind him that shrouds him in darkness.

He takes a step toward you, dragon in tow.

"Please..." you beg, certain of your demise. If he doesn't kill you, the fire surely will, but that doesn't stop you from trying. He stopped the dragon from attacking you that first time. He's only human. He can be reasoned with.

He stops to stare at you. The dragon at his side looks ready to rip into you at a moment's notice.

Emboldened, you continue, "Mercy, please...! I-I have a family waiting for me, I have a son. Please, don't take his father away!"

He seems to consider you for a moment. Firelight dances across his face revealing hardened eyes smeared with dark charcoal, but you can't read his emotions. Something in his eyes still makes your stomach churn, though.

You know that look. You see it on your crewmates' faces whenever a new dragon is captured and brought on board; a cold, uncaring nonchalance. Your life means nothing to him and you both know it.

The seconds seem to stretch into hours as he stares at you. You don't dare move from your spot, even though you're sure the rest of the crew has already fled the ship. You bought them enough time to escape, and you can't help but think that no matter what happens to you now, you would die a worthy death.

It happens before you realize it. The Huntsman steps forward in the blink of an eye- you see the flash of an axe head, hidden until that point, and feel a sharp pain in your temple before it all goes black.

...

You wake up on the shores of some foreign beach.

There's sand in your teeth, waves blanketing you up to the waist and a throbbing headache behind your eyes. Sunlight blinds you as you peel your eyes open to look around.

The charred remains of your ship surround you in the sand and in the water, blackened wooden planks floating like drowned corpses in the distance. You have no idea where you are. The Sun beats down on you mercilessly, and the water you sit in feels blissfully cold against the searing heat.

You're alive.

It dawns on you slowly and yet all too suddenly, the revelation making your head spin with relief. You survived meeting the Huntsman. You stared into the eyes of Death itself and lived to tell the tale.

And that is exactly what you'll do, you think to yourself, beginning to walk along the shore.

You will continue to live and to tell the tale of the man who arrives like a hurricane, sudden and devastating, bringing fiery destruction down on anyone unfortunate enough to stand in his path.

...

I cannot stress enough how much fun I had while drawing him. He holds a special place in my heart, so I'm very happy to finally have art of him that lives up to my own standards and expectations.

Please welcome the star of the blog and the whole reason it exists in the first place: Iskar of Ravenholm!

(The link in the title leads to his character playlist on Youtube. You can read an extremely abridged version of his story in the playlist's description.)

Alternate version under the cut to show off the Huntsman design better:

Booyah

[lukyan-james-barnes]

"You've been locked in here forever and you just can't say goodbye."

_______________________________ (Listen to the music to enhance the reading experience)

_______________________________

"You leapt from crumbling bridges, watching cityscapes turn to dust." That’s the start of it, isn’t it? Love as destruction, not in anger, but in beauty—a slow collapse, like the world giving up its secrets piece by piece. It’s all there, unraveling, and you can’t help but watch, mesmerized by the ruins. Maybe love is like that—so devastatingly beautiful you can’t look away, even as it tears everything down.

"Filming helicopters crashing in the ocean from way above." Love feels distant too, doesn’t it? Like you’re watching it from somewhere far away, helpless to intervene. You see the chaos, the destruction, the pieces falling into the water, and all you can do is hold the memory of it. You’re just a spectator, trying to capture something you know you’ll never really hold.

"Got the music in you, baby, tell me why." Maybe it’s the music that keeps you here, locked in this endless cycle of longing. The rhythm of love, the melody of a moment that lingers even when everything else fades. It’s haunting, isn’t it? The way it stays with you, even when you want to let it go.

"You’ve been locked in here forever, and you just can’t say goodbye." That’s the heart of it, isn’t it? The way love traps you, keeps you tethered to something that might never truly be yours. You can’t leave, can’t forget, can’t say goodbye. You carry it with you, like a secret you’re too afraid to share, too afraid to lose.

"Kisses on the foreheads of the lovers wrapped in your arms." Love is tender, too, in the quiet moments—the ones you keep hidden, tucked away in the hollowed-out spaces of your heart. It’s in the softness, the fleeting gestures that mean more than words ever could. But even those moments, those whispers of love, are hidden away, left in the dark like hollowed-out pianos that will never play again.

"Your lips, my lips, apocalypse." That’s where it all converges—the beauty, the destruction, the yearning. The collision of two souls that changes everything, even if only for a moment. It’s love and loss wrapped together, the end and the beginning, the moment when the world feels like it’s ending and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

"Go and sneak us through the rivers, flood is rising up on your knees." Love is desperate, too, isn’t it? The need to hold on, to escape the flood, to find a way to survive together even as the waters rise. It pulls you under, but you still reach for it, still hope for it, even when you know it might drown you.

"Come out and haunt me. I know you want me." That’s what love does—it lingers, even when it’s gone. It haunts you, calls to you, pulls you back to the places you swore you’d never return to. You can feel its presence, like a ghost that refuses to leave.

"Sharing all your secrets with each other since you were kids." Love is trust, too, isn’t it? The vulnerability of laying yourself bare, of giving someone the pieces of you that no one else sees. It’s the locket you clutch in your fist, the promise you made to someone who may never truly understand its weight.

"When you’re all alone, I will reach for you. When you’re feeling low, I will be there too." That’s the promise of love—the quiet reassurance that even in the darkest moments, it’s there. It reaches for you, holds you, even when you can’t see it. Even when it’s just a memory, a ghost, an echo of something you’ll never truly have.

And yet, it’s enough. Because even if love is an apocalypse, even if it tears you apart, even if it’s always just out of reach, it’s still beautiful. It’s still worth yearning for.

I know it now. I’ll never find that kind of love. The kind that crumbles and burns, that rises from the ashes, haunting me, never truly leaving, no matter how far I run. It’s the kind of love that pulls you under, drowns you in its depths, and yet, in its wreckage, leaves something indescribable, something irreplaceable. The music still beats in my chest, the rhythm of something I’ll never touch again but will always feel, echoing in the quiet spaces where hope used to live.

And though I can never go back, never return to that moment when love was everything to me, I carry it with me—like the ruins of a city I’ll never rebuild, like the ghost of a song I can’t forget. It was beautiful, in its destruction. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough. Because love, even in its apocalypse, will always be worth yearning for.

____________________________________

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People worth tagging: @thatone-midgardian @oh-to-be-a-murderer @insomniac-lifestyle @itzzkaylaaa @randomstuffandfandomstuff @crazyinlovewithmarvel @over-bi-the-wayside

[mins-fins]

shining star !

"shining star come into view.."

synopsis: life, in all of it's forms, is beautiful. life created is beautiful, life unknown is beautiful, the calloused hands which carve out the structures of life are beautiful. just don't form an attachment, it'll be harder in the long run.

pairing: nct dream 00z x male!reader

genre: science fiction, near future au, robots and androids, love rectangle??, vaguely space au, fluff, angst, romance but also no one gets the guy at the end, 00z centric pov, sorry no reader pov 😣, relationship studies, ambiguous/open ending, loose frankenstein references, featuring guest star android park jisung

warnings: swearing, space talk, robot talk, fighting, an ending that seems sad, mean sexy boss doyoung, the ethics of getting dangerously emotionally attached to your own invention, sooo much star talk, beware android jisung

word count: 16.2k

notes: me after not posting for ten days straight then just coming out with this 😇 anyway!! experimental ass work wouldve done numbers on ao3 (kidding..), feel like for a work with four love interests the romance seems pretty lacking 😭😭 i missed jeno.. and haechan and jaemin and renjun and im experiencing a wave of sadness bc nct dream were in my city and i didnt even get to see them 😣 also ANDROID JISUNG!! i like writing new things, and this was a challenge because unlike most of my other long works i started writing this before i had the full picture in mind, also i wrote all of this in the span of nine days so um, im not posting anytime soon again 😞 my apologies for fluctuating with my consistency.. also the ending is open!! so you can imagine any outcome you want, good or bad, enough of my rambling now, just enjoy my mess!!

I.                     “ beware: for i am fearless, and therefore powerful “.

the effervescent expanse of space is an enigma, a mystery humans often poke and prod at to draw needless conclusions from. being stranded in a galaxy on a floating rock yet having little to no idea of what the unknown holds is enough to capture fear, being completely oblivious to the true nature of the universe you’re stuck in the middle of is enough to arise panic.

astronauts are brave, yes, but space is much too vast for humans, much too vast for them to survive a day outside of their oxygen filled utopia. rovers usually are feasible, but they’re now outdated, hunks of metal that more than often break down, and if the familiar knitting of doyoung’s eyebrows is any indication, it all frustrates him to an extreme extent.

still, it doesn’t explain why they suddenly have a titular new member joining their team.

jeno has become accustomed to all the nooks and crannies of the laboratory. the hallway splits into two turns reminiscent of a fork in the road, and it’s always the right turn that leads him to his destination, the left turn would put him straight in the arms of donghyuck, who isn’t exactly having the best time reacting to such news, so he’s making sure to keep a safe distance.

maybe catching a glimpse of your face will aid in the erasure of donghyuck’s distinct glare burned into jeno’s mind.

“y/n?”

it’s the usual: a mess. the mechanics of it all is your favorite part. science is beautiful, yes, but your one true love seems to always be robotics. the art of creation using that of metal is.. strange, some would say it’s off putting, nerdy, many more synonyms that would usually make jeno roll his eyes. the barrage of scattered aluminum and steels is as mundane to his eyes as it is mundane to the touch of your fingertips.

but you aren’t exactly visible from the first step into the room.

there’s a muffled sound of reply, a hum? groan? something that jeno can’t decipher with the heaping piles of bioplastics making their home on the ground.

he’s cut off from the second calling of your name when you rise from a pile of metals tucked in the corner, under the window and just barely evading the light attempting to seep through the curtains. you offer him your usual smile, snickering as you remove the clear glasses perched atop your nose and place them on your head. “jeno! do you need something?”

jeno can barely help the upturn of his lips, his hands unconsciously coming to clasp together. “i’m assuming doyoung told you.. right?”

you blink, displayed obliviousness betraying the clear insight behind your eyes. you run your sweaty palms over your pants, the id pinned to your chest seemingly crumpled from your former activities on the floor. “about the new addition to the team?”

his nod is paired with silence.

“and about this new.. project?”

you hum at the sight of his second nod, tucking a strand behind your ear as you then begin whistling into the air. jeno busies himself by zeroing in on the many blueprints you leave rolled open on the nearby tables, robots, robot parts, androids, the usual..

jeno’s eyes flit over to you again, a small kick to all the elastomers littering the floor, he hopes you have no objection to that one. “guess i can see where he’s coming from” your hands place themselves onto your hips, the sound of you kissing your teeth meeting jeno’s ears. “gives me more time for this new prototype though” the sense of your euphoria in your smile can’t seem to be replicated elsewhere, jeno sees your passion for all of this as meritorious, a true sign to how you’ll never change.

“and the new.. member?”

your eyebrows raise, using an eye roll as your response. “well you don’t seem too keen”.

you possess the striking ability to read lee jeno like an open book. you begin rolling up the many blueprints as a silent way of organization, your reverberating hum being the tune of ‘shining star’ by earth wind and fire. jeno scratches behind his ear, a frown tugging at his lips. “guess i just don’t understand what we need someone new for”.

“they just assume i need someone else attached to robotics to make it all go smoother”.

oh, jeno didn’t expect for you to know that one.

“this has always been a staple of our team, it was just you and me for a year, then hyuck joined, then two years later injunie joined us, it’s around that time where someone else is being added simply for the sake of moving us along”.

“it’s been almost three years, do we really need an asset when you already do such great a job yourself?”

you suck your teeth, snapping your fingers in his direction as jeno obeys your silent order by handing over yet another blueprint, it’s the only one with a finished sketch, but jeno can’t make out the drawn out parts for long, as you roll it up and place it with your other ones. “ask doyoung, he clearly has an answer for that one”.

the room isn’t exactly dimly lit, but the lack of light permeating through the satin curtains don’t do your side profile justice. jeno’s eyes drift their naturally, you again sigh as your head leans downward, irises dilating at the sight of your very own work. “did he tell you whose joining?” your tongue prods at the side of your cheek, fist knocking on the wood of the table before you.

“an engineer formerly assigned to siberies”.

a furrowing of eyebrows. “that far? why would there need to be such a drastic move?”

“doyoung does what doyoung does”.

your tooth sinks into your bottom lip, just barely drawing blood, but then, a smile, your usual, soft smile. “anyway, you know how i feel about additions, as long as they care, i don’t mind”.

“you’re too good with people”.

your responding laughter is laced with elation.

with your arms folded over your chest, jeno takes yet another few minutes to observe the room you often spend hours upon hours stuck in. the cognizant urge to zero in on that old picture of you two is always high, you uttered to jeno that you keep it in your room as an ‘encouraging reminder’, him being one of your first real friends and all.

there are other photos too, but jeno pays little to no regard for the stupid photographs of donghyuck which litter the shelves. the photos of you and jeno expand a wide array of your collection, but the one from before you two ended up becoming slaves to this curse of a laboratory is one he cherishes dearly.

it was always just you two before all of this.

“why do you think space?”

jeno ceases his staring, instead intrigued by your sudden inquiry. “you’ll have to specify what you mean”.

you opt to sucking your teeth, a display of your bubbling irritation. “space is so.. well, empty, it’s a void that can barely be explored planet by planet, we’ll never be able to touch the sun, never able to go ourselves for another few decades seeing the pace science is going, we can barely even get a piece of metal near our first planet, so, why exactly space?”

science is about inquiry, science is built on the basis of human curiosity and nature no one can understand, but they long to pick apart. you then tilt your head, face scrunching at your own words. “i guess.. you know— doyoung, i have something he wants, something he deems valuable, i can’t exactly understand why space is so relevant, i don’t get the purpose of pouring my life into an android for something i won’t ever experience”.

and maybe you find it amusing, your silent snickers make sure to spell that out. the question is one that’s drawn out, less of a question and more of a thought vomit, something jeno didn’t exactly expect from a conversation such as this.

jeno stares upward, and for an unknown reason, he longs to feel your fingers intertwined with his. “we’ll never really know enough, but that can be said for anything, science is about questioning the unknown, research for the benefit of those coming after us”.

“human inquiry”.

“hm”.

you seem interested, picking off a piece of cotton sticking to the side of his sweatshirt. “smart ass” you joke, a small snort leaving your lips at the blow.

and really, jeno just smiles, you’re too sweet to genuinely deliver an insult.

II.                     “ he was soon borne away by the waves and lost in darkness and distance “.

the team is introduced to the new ‘asset’ (jeno loathes such a word) the following monday. a popular robotics engineer by the name of na jaemin, no one is aware of anything other than the fact that he is respected, his name rolls off the tongue well, and the pink hair is much too bright in comparison to the stillness of his expression.

the “team” simply began as a mere duo, which then became a blossoming trio, when then became a.. group. there’s only one member who doesn’t hold the anxiety permeating off of everyone else, and that is you.

fearless, that’s what you are. to the extent that six feet tall mechanical contraptions can’t even earn the hinder of a muscle. maybe being locked in a room as a way of work does that to a man, jeno will have to look into if that is a strategy for toughening up or something.

jeno immediately observes the obvious, jaemin’s hands are dry and calloused. when he reaches for handshakes, donghyuck is the only one who doesn’t make a move, something of a cower in his expression. it’s a bit of a surprise, bright, loud mouthed, brash donghyuck, cowering? jeno finds such a prospect astonishing.

jaemin’s grin is somewhat scary for a first time interaction, his teeth bare in a motion that’s simply.. performed. “it’s nice to meet you, all of you, i’ve heard good things about this.. team”.

you don’t reply with a smile, but there’s satisfaction behind your eyes. “you were not who i was expecting”.

“same here” renjun speaks jeno’s thoughts out into the world, his smile strained.

jaemin’s smile is again unsavory, but jeno keeps his composure so as to not let such a comment slip. for a reason unknown, you show a smile. “well then, let’s work hard together to make sure we succeed”.

donghyuck now physically cowers behind jeno, a grimace perfectly placed on his features as he readies up a sneer. “i don’t like this guy” he says, as if jaemin isn’t standing less than a foot away from him.

“i can hear you” jaemin’s smile twitches, not yet fully faltering.

“good” donghyuck replies, his arm coming to link with your own. he raises a suspicious eyebrow his way, keeping himself close by, as if you’d square up if jaemin decided to make any sort of threat towards him.

you reach behind yourself to squeeze donghyuck’s hand, clear serenity in your expression. “be nice” you whisper. “we’ll be seeing more of each other from now on either way”.

donghyuck grimaces, eyeing jaemin with distrust he isn’t keen on taking back. “hopefully not..” he mutters, eyes casting to the right.

jaemin simply shares another formidable smile.

both you and jaemin are assigned to the northernmost lab, sniō. a cold, isolated world that’s nothing reminiscent of the warmth your regular office holds, jeno’s face twitches at the name alone, how one could even survive in such an atmosphere is beyond him.

you always do the robot stuff, and since jaemin is in the same field, it means the time spent between you two shall grow, just until you create a working prototype.

na jaemin seems to be just as intrigued by you as everyone is when they first meet you, jeno guesses having to work with someone in a below freezing room brings two close.

“i apologize for donghyuck’s.. attitude, he takes a while to warm up to”.

“seems he doesn’t want to warm up at all”.

your eyes remain trained on the screen, jaemin takes note of how your irises seem to void out, nothing but pure, untouched engrossment present in the darkness. you then put on the pair of glasses typically kept at your side, cracking your knuckles. “don’t worry, he’s not that bad”.

“but he’s still somewhat bad?”

jaemin is somewhat drawn to it, you in particular. this is about a partnership after all, meaning you two have to sink into the feeling of knowing each other. the flurry of robot parts earn a grunt, hands now placing themselves onto his hips. “not that bad, he can just have.. an attitude problem”.

the other offers a chuckle in response to your words, an empty blueprint being rolled open onto the metal table. jaemin cops a glance, lips doing an upturn at the focus in your expression. “let’s get this done, yeah?”

a hum is all you’re offered, but it’s not that jaemin doesn’t care, it’s just that he doesn’t want to laser focus on that pretty smile of yours.

III.                     “ what can stop the determined heart and resolved will of man? “.

when you get deep into work, you slip into a certain state of mind. maybe one day you’ll be responsible for androids overthrowing the human race and taking over the world, donghyuck thinks you probably foresee such an outcome with how much you put into pieces of metals.

lee donghyuck first met you in the same manner as jeno, in the crossroads of the laboratory’s mishmash of a hallway.

robot presence at an all time high, donghyuck remembers visibly jumping backward once coming into contact with you, now unable to tear his eyes away from the sight. he blinked, then his eyes narrowed against his will, a clear display of his judgment. “woah”.

exactly, his first words to you were ‘woah’, an exhibit of his surprise, definitely not his last one when it would come to you. he supposes that the whole unpredictability ruse is how you live your life, maybe jeno isn’t all that crazy.

you blinked in a silent reply, then, you laughed into your usual pretty smile as a third hand rose from behind your back. “hello to you too”.

“another hand?”

the intrigue was genuine, a simple judgment still there, but the inquiries were outweighing it all, as he tilted his head as his reply to your own. your nod was, in the strangest way possible, comforting. “i need extra assistance”.

donghyuck immediately knew the next question; “you created it yourself?”

“yep, have control of it and everything”.

he couldn’t even let a snarky lie slip in the moment. “that’s very impressive, do you usually..?”

you sensed his upcoming query, because you again giggled. “yeah, robotics is my passion”.

donghyuck hummed, somehow, the smile you brought was without irritation. “y/n”.

“donghyuck, it’s nice to meet you”.

and really, it was.

doyoung is no longer the monster donghyuck thought he was way back when he was an intern, as he gets older, the other seems to have glares that soften. his scientific curiosity exceeded the earlier fear, though, because he’s been able to stay here for years even with the older looking as if he wants to wrap a hand around his neck and squeeze.

the first time donghyuck meets both you and jeno, he immediately observes the other’s puppy like features. he found your relationship odd, considering you didn’t have to do anything magnificent yet lee jeno would stare with an enraptured gaze as if the individual moles on your face themselves solved world hunger and cured disease.

ah, so you two have that kind of relationship.

(“don’t you think jeno looks like a samoyed?” he recalls uttering to you a week later, there was a gleam in your eye, and it was completely dedicated to the blueprints you had probably gazed upon millions of times before that moment.

your laughter came in a harmonious rhythm, and the sound was so pleasant that donghyuck stared plainly captivated for a mere moment. “at an angle, he kind of does look like a puppy” your hand came to cover your mouth, despite donghyuck being the only person in your company.

donghyuck found a frown tugging at his lips, what are you hiding? don’t you know your laughter is pretty? he opted out of saying that out loud, anxious over something unknown. “sometimes he even acts like one”.

you clicked your tongue, playing with the collar of your shirt. “he’s simply clingy” you replied, straightening your posture as you silently ask for a pen with the motioning of your fingers. when donghyuck hands it over, he relishes in the small moment that your fingers meet, the delicacy of your hands is a feeling he can’t ever shake off.

or maybe lee jeno is simply in love, isn’t that strange y/n?)

donghyuck eventually got acclimated to the aberration of the usual laboratory day. doyoung asks a lot of you, courtesy of your vast knowledge concerning everything robots. you seem to enjoy the proposition of working yourself to the ground, it’s as if you’re trying to meet a goal, see how long you can work before you completely pass out or get choked to death by one of your robot contraptions.

“you’ll die if you keep going like this”.

your response was a scrunch of your facial muscles, an action that made donghyuck assume you’d reply with some snappy rebuttal, that’s what he always does after all. “death can’t catch up to me just yet, i won’t allow for it to”.

“not sure it’ll be glad with that proposal..” donghyuck muttered, but you simply let your eyes avert upward, distinguishing the planet models cascaded on the ceiling. it’s a staple of the laboratory’s main room, a duplicate of our very own solar system, fit with the sun, and the eight titular planets we have become accustomed to (though donghyuck knows you don’t exactly agree with the prospect of pluto being demoted, “poor guy, he probably feels left out..”; that’s what you muttered about it, he finds it funny).

“when the time is right, i’ll have control over how i want to go”.

“we’ll you can’t exactly determine the wavelength of destiny” donghyuck responded, and you snickered, hand again coming up to hide your mouth.

“don’t worry, something so stupid won’t be what takes me out, i promise you”.

you promised him, you promised him.

for a fourth interaction, donghyuck simply found you so.. beautiful. beautiful in a manner reminiscent of the many galaxies which hold worlds in them, tied with the stars, planets, comets, asteroids, all the celestial bodies donghyuck has dedicated so much of his life to studying.

the promise was signed by your pretty smile, signed by the shooting stars present in the night sky.

it’ll be kept, after all, you aren’t one to break them, donghyuck knows that well enough.

IV.                     “ the world was to me a secret which i desired to devine “.

na jaemin isn’t exactly used to such a work ethic reminiscent of his own.

he works better alone, he usually always works alone. he originally got a part in this project because he thought he was the only engineer on this prototype duty, the only one specializing in actually creating this android, but then you came into the picture, and..

it’s safe to say that he’s steadily impressed.

the prototype has nothing of a face, it’s simply a standing piece of metals that don’t exactly allow for it to scrunch it’s face in the manner of a human being just yet. there’s ink painted on jaemin’s shirt, just shy of his usually prim and clear id, but that isn’t his main focus currently.

it— he opens his eyes for the first time, the eyelids fluttering open in the fashion replicating that of someone waking up in the morning. it stands rock still, the arms haven’t been programmed well enough yet.

your gaze burns through the pre-android, arms folded over your chest as you still in a method implicative of the robotic body before you. it’s pupils dilate, the irises completely black, not the familiar dark brown color of your eyes, simply pitch black. the sclera is a pure, blank white that is nothing of a human’s, jaemin would know.

he glances at his side, your eyes dark and the circles under them even darker. he opens his mouth to speak out a query, but then the android starts;

his pupils dilate, widening to the extent only a human’s pupil can, so lively so early in the process. again, the movements are unnatural, arms remaining pinned at his sides.

his mouth doesn’t curve upward, his eyes convey all there is to convey. good morning, it speaks, voice devoid of anything.. sensation, the only hint of one being behind the pupils which remained wide. i love you.

then, there’s nothing more else to say, and the pre-done android winds up, shoulders slumping as it shuts back down, eyelids fluttering shut, pupils narrowing, all of the color draining from where they previously remained.

jaemin blinks, observing you pinch the bridge of your nose, your teeth kissing one another. “i keep forgetting we programmed that one”.

“think he just does it as a natural instinct now” your arms drop at your sides, glasses being swept off your face and placed onto the nearby table. it is 11:38 pm, not morning, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“he? so it’s a boy?”

you inquire as if you’re attending a gender reveal, something of an amusing look behind your own pupils. “first name idea i got was for a boy.. do you want a change?”

your hum isn’t intelligible enough for jaemin to decipher your inner most thoughts. “no, it’s cute”.

“what?”

“your dedication to this project”.

in a manner that is completely unlike him, a tint of red spreads across jaemin’s cheeks, heat coiling over his face. you didn’t call him cute, why did that even fluster him? he opts to glancing away, he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off you if he again decided to stare.

“is that it for tonight?”

“i want to add on a few tweaks” you reply, you don’t mention anything pertaining to sleep.

“not even a couple of hours?” 

you simply manage a fleeting glance, a tired smile present on your features. his hair is mussed, tousled from the little care he paid to it throughout the day, you reach over and twirl a strand between your fingers, a ministration that brings a specific feeling of solace which comes as a small surprise.

“there’s no need to worry about me, you go get sleep”.

there’s the urge to rebel, to argue until his throat itches and it all hurts, but he keeps it all inside, mouth falling closed with a silent plop. “tomorrow same time?”

you hum in agreement.

jaemin’s face twitches, the freezing atmosphere of sniō now becoming more of a bother than before. your index finger again graces a hair strand, and his eyes flutter closed in a moment of relaxation.

he then chuckles at a sudden thought, glancing upward. “what do you think about the name mouth suction gangster?”

your laughter is irresistible, amusement high in the air despite the late night. “i think we’ll lose our federal funding if you name him such a thing”.

jaemin presents an exaggerated pout, and you ruffle his pink locks. “do you have any name ideas?”

you lean closer, jaemin instinctively leaning backward as you continue to seem bewitched by his pink hair. “it’s a secret”.

jaemin takes the opportunity to admire your features, each of your individual moles could be one of their own galaxies, holding a barrage of stars which simply amplify your beauty. “i’ll find out”.

“sure, good night jaemin”.

jaemin isn’t sure why, but he hopes to see that smile around more. it’s simply.. well, the words won’t come to mind just yet.

“good night y/n”.

when he finds out what the word is, it’ll surely become one of his favorites.

V.                     “ there is something at work in my soul, which i do not understand “.

renjun’s name has a flurry of meanings despite it being a mere six letters, it’s a simple combination of two parts, yet those two parts hold the staple of how he managed things through his eyes for the latter part of his life.

the part “仁” usually means “benevolence”, it’s the meaning most people associate with the first three letters. the other two meanings are “ideal” and “expressing respect”, the adjective being “sensitive”. his parents reiterated to him many times that they had several arguments about the choosing, because naming your child whose future you can’t foresee the word kind is genuinely hilarious, but renjun would ensure that he’d grow up to be the kindest son they could ever have.

the second half “俊” is the typical name which means “handsome; pretty” or “of outstanding talent”, the adjectives being “smart, eminent”, a laughable prospect really, renjun has always been said to get his looks from his mother, he inherited her soft features whilst he got the strong personality (and by proxy, voice) from his father.

he assumes his smarts must be a mix, renjun never thought science, really, he originally wanted to go to school for music, but as his mother said; “music doesn’t pay the bills”.

he was never meant to end up here, not on his own accord anyway, and he was never supposed to be a part of this team in the first place.

but here he is.

don’t name it, he recalls doyoung saying, a booming voice being his go to. it’s only going to survive out in space for a couple of months, naming it will simply make it all harder in the long run.

but of course, you’ve never been one to listen.

to love something is to give it a name, you’ve always had attachments to your projects. heck, most of your caffeine addiction can be attributed to that talking coffee machine you created way back.

it makes enough sense to renjun why both you and jaemin gave the android a name, it’s usual to name a creation of yours, especially if there’s a specific meaning in mind.

renjun’s not a fan of robots, especially not of androids. despite all your fondness, he just can’t get it, and he knows he won’t ever get it, they simply freak him out. androids are too lifelike, androids are so freaky, he just can’t find an ounce of humanity in them that so called creators could find so easily.

the prototype isn’t yet finished, but it already has a couple defining facial features. it has small eyes, tiny heart shaped lips, a splitting smile, and it seems to have a knack for saying “i love you”.. like all the time.

and doyoung specifically said to not name it. naming it means attachment, attachment that’ll interfere with the way doyoung longs for this mission to go.

we can’t have another failure, you know what’ll happen to y/n if this goes wrong.

renjun isn’t quite as taken to this as the others seem to be..

“you gonna give it a name?”

renjun observes as you only let one eye open, arms acting as your makeshift pillow as you allow for your legs to stretch across the couch. you ponder for a moment, renjun senses that you’re contemplating on if you should lie or not, something about information between robotics engineers staying between them.

(and he loathes it, why are you keeping secrets with jaemin?)

“him, and yes, jaemin is very keen on doing so”.

“okay, so what do you have in mind?”

“are you gonna tell donghyuck?”

the question seems a tiny bit accusatory, renjun would feel offended if not for there being some truth behind those words. you know too much for your own good, he’s secretly afraid you’re some crazy mind reading alien, or a time traveler, or you’re just constantly eavesdropping.

he glances away, staring endlessly at the twinkling stars in the night sky. he hasn’t been stargazing in a while, it was a little tradition you two developed after your first dinner together, back when renjun was the newbie who had the least scientific experience. he guesses nerdy constellation knowledge made for a good past time.

(“you have a favorite?” renjun recalls you asking him. it was a spontaneous exchange, going up to the rooftop when you weren’t allowed to gave renjun the full picture of how exactly you were. your smile remains as pretty as it was when renjun first met you in the cold interior of doyoung’s claustrophobic office.

“aquila” he still has the taste of the word on his tongue. “it contains some of my favorite stars, altair, theta aquilae, lambda aquilae.. most of them”.

your intrigue seemed to be contagious, and though the light was minuscule, he could still make out your prettiest features under the dimly shining stars. the light of the shooting stars reflected in the shine of your pupils, a shine that simply seemed so.. perfect. “do you have a favorite?” renjun asked back, hands placed in his lap as he fruitfully avoided your eyes.

you feigned thought, renjun already knows you usually always have the answer on standby. “sagittarius, it consists of the two triple stars, you know i always see pi sagittarius on nights like this..”

of course, pi sagittarius is visible to the naked eye, renjun barely had to squint to capture a glimpse that night. and you? you simply looked enchanted, bewitched, something else that again seemed contagious, as renjun couldn’t help but use the moment to gaze at you with such captivation. you’re captivating, without having even to do anything special, simply talking about the stars is enough.

you scooted closer, knees knocking and shoulders brushing against renjun’s. “if you were a star.. you would be gamma arietis.. it’s apart of aries, one of the brightest”.

it’s a fleeting whisper, an intimate moment that could barely even be deemed ‘intimate’. renjun assumes so, though, who just says that? who compares someone to one of the prettiest stars in the sky? the cool night air did a good job of masking his tinted cheeks, but renjun can never exactly forget it.

in his own sickening mind, huang renjun would’ve taken that as a love confession. gladly as well.)

renjun’s gaze remains fixed on the window, your eyes now again fluttering closed. “am i no longer trustworthy?”

you hum, eyes remaining closed, exhaustion slowly beginning to seep through. “you’ve earned my trust, but it can always be broken”.

renjun is aware. the only person you probably fully trust at this point is jeno, but of course, you’ve known him for the longest. “i have my pinky, i’ll swear”.

you look as if you’re about to slip, but then you suddenly flinch, rising from your spot in an abrupt jerking movement that startles renjun out of his star admiring. “i’m not done yet..”

“y/n, it’s late, are you really going back to sniō?”

“it’s last minute!”

terrible fucking excuse, renjun’s nose crinkles.

it’s less of him being angry, more of him simply wanting your company, attention, just.. something, why should it all be divided between jaemin and this android thing? his stomach curls in an ugly feat of jealousy.

his arms stay dropped at his sides, and he clears his throat. “don’t stay at the laboratory all night again!”

stupid thing to say, he already knows you will, you’ve never been one to listen.

VI.                     “ if i cannot inspire love, i will cause fear! “.

the “team” (jeno doesn’t really think of them as such) is introduced to prototype 205 on a seemingly regular thursday. fortunately for jeno, they don’t have to be in the below freezing environment of sniō, he’d probably faint from such a prospect. no, you guys meet in the space of the main laboratory, the overhead lights shining over you as if you’re an angel.

“his name is jisung” jaemin says, full of pride. your silence is key, there might be no words, but jeno can practically feel your excitement. sometimes, he feels as if your minds must be connected by some invisible wire. your fatigue is clear, jaemin probably hasn’t gotten sleep in weeks, jeno is afraid he might pass out, and you? your exhaustion is now completely usual, the bags under your eyes holding them upward as to not have them flutter shut.

“jisung” your voice is soft as you glance over at i— him, your stare nothing short of proud. “say hi to renjun, jeno, and donghyuck”.

jisung, half hidden behind jaemin’s shoulder, looks up at jaemin, as if for encouragement. it’s cute. jeno has to remind himself that the mannerisms are simply coded into his system. jaemin nods at him, and jisung finally shows out a part of his face, not yet stepping out.

“hi renjun” his eyelids flutter a little too humanely. “hello jeno, donghyuck” his voice is soft, yet it’s deep, clearly deeper than jeno’s, scratch that, probably deeper than everyone’s.

“..i look forward to working with you” donghyuck replies cautiously.

jaemin’s eyes shine as jisung parrots such enthusiasm, your shoulders slumping forward in action of relief. jeno’s eyes form into crescents as he smiles, just watching you be proud of your own work pleases him. despite your unkempt, mad scientist appearance, no one would ever be able to guess you had been awake for about thirty two hours simply trying to get jisung to turn on. the fondness in your expression is more befitting of a proud parent than an inventor.

you’re going to break your own heart at this point, jeno knows it, and judging by renjun’s narrowed eyes, he knows it too.

donghyuck chokes on nothing in the air, a clutch to his chest amplifying the dramatics of it all. “oh my god, he’s so cute” he can barely contain his laughter, pure excitement behind his eyes. “you made him cute”.

“of course i did” jaemin replies, sounding a tad bit offended. “he’s the cutest, all courtesy of y/n’s expertise”.

jeno can’t help the unconscious softening of his gaze as jisung copies your smile. his feigned irritation is barely even sustained, it’s difficult to keep a straight face when he is so adorable.

renjun simply grumbles something he takes as a silent rebuttal, it’ll probably take a while for him to get used to jisung. jeno blinks at jisung, who again smiles as he practically senses jeno’s eyes. “it’s nice to meet you, jisung”.

the name rolls off the tongue rather well.

“why jisung?”

jeno knows you, and by ‘knows’, he means spent full hours with you hiding in storage closets from the mean older kids when they’d trash your inventions, back before all of this, back when jeno was the only one you had to lean on. he hasn’t gotten the full scope when it comes to the full extent of your mind, but you two have history.

and what jeno knows, is that you don’t choose names unless there’s a specific meaning in mind. you like names, you think they’re “simply the prettiest kind of random, meanings can go a long way..”

you blink your eyes up at the ceiling, and somehow, even with the insane lethargy, they don’t close against your own will, you simply keep them open. you motion your hand, beckoning for jeno to give you his.

his hand places into yours in a natural sense of action, and of course, even with the roughness of the metals you spend hours around, your hands remain soft, soothing. jeno wonders if touching a cloud could compare to the pure delicacy of your palm, your fingertips. you give a glance upward, the curves of your eyes mirroring your very own smile.

“jisung means.. devotion” you whisper, slowly tracing the spelling of his name into jeno’s palm. “it can also ironically mean alive, jaemin thought of that one..”

“devotion to who?”

when your eyes flit upward, jeno wonders if that was the wrong question to ask. there’s nothing foreseeable behind your eyes, or maybe there is and it’s successfully overshadowed by your clear lack of sleep. he almost jumps backward, but then you smile again, your eyes forming into crescents as you begin a silent fit of laughter. “everyone really, loyalty, it’s one of his biggest traits”.

you know if this continues your simply going to hurt yourself in the end.

jeno refrains from letting such a thought escape him. “he really is cute”.

jeno leans closer, whispering the words as if they’re some sort of secret, as if doyoung could be around the corner with his watchful eye on you two, as if this is an old sleepover you two are having where you giggle about what the future may bring, fingers intertwined and all. “i know, it’s a very important asset”.

not important to the mission.

again, jeno doesn’t speak such thoughts, you’re so happy, you’re so proud.

he knows better than to ruin such a beautiful thing.

VII.                     “ i ought to be thy adam, but i am rather the fallen angel… “.

doyoung wanted to get rid of you before project apollo and the success of prototype 205.

donghyuck didn’t have to hear it from renjun, he heard it in the way doyoung let each individual word fall from his lips. it’s often deemed a little ‘crazy’ that he hyper fixates on things that don’t seem to matter, but when it comes to you, donghyuck thinks it always matters.

it was a cruel move, to slyly hint it to the three and leave you out of the loop, donghyuck is all for a little cruelty sometimes, but it’s just tip toeing the line of evil. how could he even think of doing something without telling you first?

na jaemin was brought in as a replacement, the choice to keep you was only agreed upon after your teammates’ insistence. project athena went up in flames, which is what caused the distrust, but they pleaded your case either way.

(“don’t you think this is a little too drastic?” worry colored renjun’s usually stoic expression, if donghyuck focused enough, he could hear an upcoming tremble in his voice. “think of what y/n’s done for you already!”

it was two days before the arrival of the new engineer that it happened. in a manner of rarity, you were out that saturday, something only possible because of dejun’s surprisingly intimidating request. you mused that simply one day of rest would be fine, a good move on dejun’s part.

doyoung’s raised eyebrow was a threat that made even renjun tense. “shall i remind you of the mess which was project athena?”

“you can’t let him go over one failure, he’s like.. the only person who actually knows anything about robots!” yes, it got to the point where donghyuck was flailing his arms back and forth in the air. “and besides, we don’t know the other guy like that..”

“this project isn’t designed for your comfortability” god screw doyoung and his paper stacking. his hair is too neat, his eyes are too empty, his facial expressions much too stoic. maybe donghyuck’s childish fear back from his intern days is gone, but there still seems to be another kind of fear left over. “y/n’s become a liability, we’ve taken too many risks”.

jeno and donghyuck got offended on your behalf. jeno’s facial muscles twitched, a clear frown tugging at his lips as he sucked his teeth at the words from doyoung. donghyuck’s hands clenched the material of his pants, a gasp of disbelief leaving his lips. they exchanged a glance of vexation, an irritated snort leaves donghyuck. he had to be kidding.

“just.. this last mission, come on, it’ll go well”.

yes, it was renjun’s words that got a twitch out of doyoung. the older’s eyes examined each of them, renjun, then jeno, then donghyuck. then, he sighed, rolling his eyes. “you three are like children, this is his last chance, if y/n fails, you aren’t coming back here with your bag of excuses..”

donghyuck tutted, crossing his arms in an act of clear defiance. jeno looked the least irritated out of the three, but donghyuck knows it’s only because he was thinking more of you than of doyoung. renjun scowled, stomping his feet and storming out of the room.

“see? like a child”.

donghyuck probably would’ve jumped at him if not for jeno’s hand gracing his shoulder, rubbing his thumb over the blades in a comforting manner. jeno’s anger had quelled by that point, and he allowed himself to relax as best as he could. “thank you doyoung”.

donghyuck didn’t thank him for anything, there wasn’t shit to thank him for.)

the conference doesn’t need many speakers, so someone is clearly going to be left behind. donghyuck knows he’s going, he’s already prepared speeches, presentation note cards, and post it note reminders. to his very own dismay, jaemin has to tag along, and though it was an obvious foreshadowing, he still hates it.

your attendance is obvious, you’re probably much more prepared than donghyuck is, there’s never an event you don’t pre-prepare for, you always say that it’s “just in case”. that leaves it to renjun and jeno, one of them has to stay behind with jisung.

“think jeno should come with..” jaemin utters, your shuffling of papers fills the room, no sound comes from you, no indication of your agreement or disagreement. “don’t you have the coding expertise? we could use that”.

renjun begins picking at his nails, clearly anxious about being left alone with jisung. donghyuck raises an eyebrow at jaemin, lips turning downward. “are you the one calling the shots now?”

“it’s a suggestion, donghyuck, don’t get so uptight”.

donghyuck again scowls, face twisting into a grimace that’s less of disgust and more of indignation. “not uptight..”

“sure you aren’t” jaemin comments loudly, smacking a folder against the table as he wipes the dust from his hands. he glares, and donghyuck decides to glare back, one snap away from completely flipping him off.

you suck your teeth. “stop fighting, i’ll put your seats together if you don’t” your tone of voice indicates that you’re probably going to do it anyway. you pat donghyuck’s shoulder and make your way over to renjun. “are you fine staying with jisung or..?”

you’re much too generous, you are quite literally giving him an option. donghyuck observes renjun tense up momentarily, but if you notice it, you keep silent, patiently awaiting his response. he contemplates for a moment, and donghyuck gives a silent laugh at his clear anxiety. “i..” he looks over at jeno, then he shakes his head. “it’s alright, i can stay with jisung”.

“you sure?”

jeno clears his throat, the decision is done with, he doesn’t want more time for contemplation. “yeah, yeah! it’s alright!”

it’s not. donghyuck can see the way jaemin’s eyebrows furrow peripherally, and he simply clicks his tongue.

your suspicious gaze bores through his skull, but then you sigh, arms dropping at your sides. “okay, that’s good..”

donghyuck glances away, easily avoiding jaemin’s eyes. everyone is so obvious, he questions how renjun even functions around you if he answers your simple questions like that.

maybe he’s giving himself too much credit..

later that night, donghyuck joins you on the couch, your eyes stuck on the window which showcases the darkness of the night. it might be a problem, the fact that no matter how hard you try, you can no longer get a fit of sleep.

his crumpled shirt is a result of his extensive tossing and turning, how jeno ever sleeps is a mystery to him, but knowing what he does know, jeno will only ever get shut eye for a good three hours before he begins his continuous ceiling staring session. “nervous?”

you barely register his words, donghyuck is afraid you don’t hear him, afraid you might be frozen or something. it’s so weird, donghyuck always seems to find a new reason to worry his mind off concerning you, but you then blink, sucking your teeth at the window as if it did something to you personally. “kinda..” you opt to say.

donghyuck scoots closer, the two of you naturally falling together with you both deciding to lean. your eyes close for a second before opening again, as if you fear sleeping. how strange. donghyuck’s head presses against yours, your fingers coming to intertwine in a gentle manner. “do you like jisung?”

the query is whispered, and donghyuck licks his lips, really having to think it over. “he’s adorable”.

“yes or no?”

your insistence draws a tired chuckle. “yeah, i love the little shit”.

you snort, biting into your cheek. “don’t call him that”.

a hum is the response you receive.

VIII.                     “ thus strangely are our souls constructed, and by slight ligaments are we bound to prosperity and ruin “.

renjun doesn’t find being left alone all that bad, if he can just perpetually avoid jisung for the fraction of the day he has to work, then it all should be fine.

he holds onto the hug you gave him before you left, a gesture of affection he probably wouldn’t have accepted from anyone else, but let you do because.. well, he supposes it’s obvious.

“don’t get so freaked out, jisung is practically harmless” you told him, hands placed on his shoulders as you stared with your wide pupils full of fondness.

renjun could only respond with the scrunch of his face. what did you mean by ‘practically?’

he didn’t get to question it, jaemin dragged you off before he could even open his mouth, but not before shooting renjun one of his creepy looking grins. if he didn’t know any better, renjun would’ve asked to go as well, if not for the sake of being around you, but also so he could keep an eye on na jaemin.

renjun decides to occupy most of his day in meetings, doing extra work yangyang was much too lazy to do on his own. he hangs around the southernmost laboratory until kun has to usher him out, his excuses quickly defuse, and he has no choice but to trudge his way back to the main floor.

jisung is fixated on the distinguishing features of the model above him when renjun first runs into him that day, a copy of frankenstein left opened to a specific page on his lap. he tilts his head as he observes the unmoving solar system replica, his finger comes to caress the pages of the book, renjun can just barely make out scribbled writing on the individual pages. after a few more seconds of staring, he turns to the side. “hi” he blinks those terrifyingly realistic eyes. “busy day?”

renjun clears his throat, a wave of shame washing over him at such a question. jisung probably didn’t mean it, but he could probably sense that renjun’s avoidance was slightly purposeful. “uh— yeah, sort of, you could say that..”

he again goes to picking at his fingers, feeling the others eyes zero in on the movement. he lets a breath fall, attempting to change the topic, he starts; “what are you looking at?”

his feet seemingly have a mind of their own, as renjun finds himself beside jisung in no time, hands now placed in his lap. his eyes flit downward, ah, he knew it, jisung is reading one of your copies, he notices your straight handwriting right away.

“the solar system model” he whispers, eyes again traveling upward. “all these planets.. which one am i supposed to go to?”

renjun is a bit taken aback by that question, it’s a little unexpected, but he guesses it is what he was programmed for. he blinks, seemingly heating up under his stare. “um.. jupiter, that’s where your mission is dedicated”.

jisung hums, and renjun simply remains freaked out. it’s all too human like, was that on your part or jaemin’s? he’s now insanely curious.

“what are you reading?”

jisung perks up, as if startled by his spontaneous query. “frankenstein, y/n likes reading, he says this is one of his favorites”.

renjun snickers, how nice. “yeah, y/n is obsessed with science fiction in all of it’s forms”.

jisung nods. “i like it, the story is.. a bit ironic but it’s beautifully written”.

renjun’s lips immediately turn downward, while he expected for jisung to be aware of that one, it’s sort of sad to hear the tone of his voice when he says the word ‘ironic’.

jisung’s gaze bores through him, it’s reminiscent of how your eyes seem to burn into literally everyone’s soul, seeing their innermost thoughts with eyes seemingly devoid of anything. “are you alright?” he asks, sensing the mismatched thoughts muddled up in renjun’s mind.

“oh.. um, fine”.

jisung blinks, his eyelids fluttering in a freakishly realistic manner. his expressions have no right to seem so real. “something seems wrong”.

“are you programmed to notice things like that?”

jisung contemplates for a moment, as if genuinely thinking about how he should reply to it. “i’m not sure actually”.

renjun isn’t sure of that answer. “does it have something to do with the conference?”

renjun almost jumps back once again. jisung tilts his head, eyelids curving upward, lips pressed into a thin line. “is your mind stuck on y/n?”

oh, that’s fucking creepy, surely that can’t be programmed right?

unfortunately, no one is around to answer that question for renjun.

he shakes his head though completely wrong. “no..”

renjun is sure that anyone, android or not, could decipher the falsity behind his tone. “what’s wrong? did you two fight?”

“..no”.

“but you seem upset”.

curse this jisung, renjun can barely breathe without him dropping yet another accusation. shit. how obvious is he then? donghyuck must know, then that means jaemin is possibly aware, and that means jeno..

fuck.

“i guess— i don’t know, y/n is just so confusing, he’s complicated, can’t help feeling how i feel”.

oh what is wrong with renjun? he’s pouring his feelings out to this android that was created by the person he has a crush not crush on, surely anyone with a working mind would see that this is pretty much crazy. “you love him”.

renjun’s gasp is immediate, and he has no idea why he seems as offended as he is. “i— what? of course i love him but not like that..”

“he loves you too” jisung’s gaze is reminiscent of yours, stars seemingly dazzling behind his irises in the same manner as yours. how does that happen? did you mold him after you or something? it’s not that you two look alike, it’s more about the specific mannerisms renjun has gotten used to seeing from you. “he loves everybody, jeno, donghyuck, jaeminie, even me, i can’t really believe that”.

“y/n loves everything he creates”.

“no it’s—” he uncharacteristically pauses, weird. “it’s not like that, he loves me like i’m not a project, like i.. as if i’m not just here so you guys can discover more about space, like i’m more than that”.

oh, renjun didn’t think about it like that. he hums, tapping his fingers onto his knee. jisung seems defeated, which again perturbs renjun in the slightest, as he’s assumed all feelings are simply programmed, not that they can change naturally in their own way on their own accord.

you’re driving yourself into a wall, you’re going to hurt yourself in the end, and jisung even knows it himself.

“jaeminie does too, they take care of me”.

renjun doesn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t this. jisung again glances upward at the model of the solar system, eyes remaining fixated on the mold of jupiter. that’s where he is going. “i don’t really know how you feel, but y/n is.. he isn’t feeling that different”.

speak for yourself, y/n loves everyone, even doyoung, and the fucker tried to fire him.

renjun decides to keep that one to himself, his cheeks now tinted red, an unknown heat coming out of nowhere.

okay, maybe jisung isn’t that bad.

IX.                     “ life, although it may be only an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and i will defend it “.

over the coming weeks, jisung becomes more of a mundane figure in everyone’s lives.

the attachment both you and jaemin have is clear, as creators of jisung, you pretty much treat him like he’s your kid or something (which jeno supposes he is but that’s only due to the obvious). the proprietary technology is shared between you both, all the other three did was fill you two with the correct knowledge and program the actual useful things. how to collect samples, how to analyze a mass spectrometry reading, how to identify potential life and share data on environmental conditions, not to mention everything that even goes into operating a spacecraft.

“what do you mean?” jaemin tilts his head, feigned resentment behind his eyes with jisung keeping his head laid onto his shoulder. he’s asleep, or.. off, jeno is unsure of how exactly it all works, but jisung’s eyes are closed, so jeno assumes he’s asleep. “you’re implying his skills weren’t useful before, i programmed him to dance, that’s useful”.

jisung’s chest rises and sinks, then it happens again. his lashes flutter, mouth parting as if releasing a sigh. jeno has to hand it to the both you and jaemin, because for all your eccentricism, you two are insanely talented. every part of jisung is painstakingly lifelike, delicately crafted. even jeno forgets when he looks at him, sometimes, that he isn’t alive at all.

“why?” jeno asks, because of course he does. the basis of his career draws from the most intrigued of queries, asking questions is all he knows how to do. “how is that useful?”

jisung shifts for a moment, then he rises, back straightening as he blinks awake, eyelids fluttering as he settles into the air of the room. “it makes people happy” jaemin opts to whisper, nothing but pure endearment behind his eyes as he stares. “isn’t that useful?”

not useful to the mission, not useful to scientific achievement, were hitting a brick wall here.

jisung’s eye flit around the room, unfocused. when he processes jaemin’s face, his lips curve into a smile. when his eyes land on jeno, his smile only widens, which startles the other enough that his replying smile is awkward.

“good morning” jaemin coos, brushing a strand of hair behind jisung’s ear.

“it’s eight twenty seven o’clock” jisung replies, matter of factly. he blinks again at jaemin, observing as the older juts out his lip. he then pauses, mind seemingly re-wiring.

“good morning” he tries again. “i love you”.

jaemin’s resounding laughter is full of so much elation that jeno can even see his teeth, and he squeezes jisung tighter, completely enamored.

jeno guesses he’s pretty adorable.

jisung again blinks his terrifyingly realistic eyes, his pupils holding curiosity. “where is y/n?”

he doesn’t yet give mention to renjun and donghyuck’s absence, but jeno guesses it’s due to jisung being quite used to seeing you around once he wakes up. he tilts his head in jeno’s direction, as if also expecting an answer from him. jaemin clears his throat, ruffling his hair. “y/n had to leave at six for early work, he’ll be back soon”.

jeno scans the look of simply affection at the mention of you, not just from jisung, but also from jaemin. jisung’s face falls in a display of worry, jeno finds that rich. “y/n typically works every single day, do you know why jeno?”

being put on the spot, jeno again startles, his face going pale. he contemplates for a moment, feeling jisung’s eyes seep through him in a burning gaze, it’s a little scary. “i— um..”

“were back!” donghyuck fortunately comes to save his ass, kicking down the door in a bang so loud it cuts jeno off immediately. “and we brought food” renjun continues, he places the bag he holds onto the nearby table, right in front of jisung. he fixates on it, scanning the plastic before him. “and hello you!” donghyuck seems to feel a similar extent of adoration in correlation with both you and jaemin, as he leans downward to press a kiss to his cheek, drawing a small sound from him.

“good morning..” he mutters, shying away from the act of affection. jeno finds donghyuck’s attachment to jisung a little more surprising, renjun definitely took a while to warm up, but donghyuck didn’t really need that much time, the other previously expressed concerns to jeno about using androids when the project began, but it seems that all the worry has since dissipated. he was smitten, he still is.

renjun was much more weary at first, but he’s slowly getting used to his presence, jeno guesses something that had to do with the day they were gone for the conference.

“y/n still not back?” donghyuck inquires, unease hidden by his usually bright smile. he leans onto his own fist, watching jisung seem enraptured by the sight of human food. jisung decides to respond by shaking his head, seemingly sensing the tension between donghyuck and jaemin.

donghyuck clears his throat, keeping silent as he hands jaemin over what he ordered, again avoiding eye contact. oh, they still haven’t attempted to sort a few of the differences, or maybe they talked during the conference, jeno can’t exactly remember.

“he does nothing but work” renjun’s words are muffled by the bits of toast he chews, something of irritation in his pupils. “seriously, never shuts down..”

“i heard that” it isn’t an understatement to say that everyone practically lights up when you walk through the door. jeno likes to think that he displays his adoration the best, with his ‘samoyed likeness’ and all (that’s what you and donghyuck say). there’s a warmth that emanates from your presence, a tired smile clinging to your lips. “not a workaholic, i’m just good at my job”.

“they can go hand in hand”.

jisung showcases his biggest smile of the morning, almost jumping from his seat in an effort to hug you. of course, donghyuck gets there first, squeezing the oxygen out of you. “you got here just in time, breakfast is here, eat, then go nap”.

you snort. “don’t give me demands”.

“are you not tired?” renjun opts to pipe in, it’s a rather idiotic question, everybody knows you’re tired, the bags are about to sink into your skin, but you simply wave a dismissive hand, eyes shining jisung’s way.

“enough of that, how’s my baby?”

jisung just manages a yelp before you wrap your arms around him and they tighten. oh you love him, it hurts jeno’s heart in a sickening way, you’re simply enraptured. jeno can’t help but notice jaemin, who looks equally as so, but not towards jisung, more towards you.

jaemin’s scoff of annoyance is feigned. “our, and he’s good, he was looking for you”.

“why do you work all the time?”

jisung blinks in his regular jisung manner, which jeno finds off putting, he’s beginning to note the androids individual mannerisms. “because i like to work”.

“nobody likes to work, do you have problems?”

donghyuck snorts, hiding his giggles behind his hands when he notices your peripheral glare. jeno whistles as he feigns ignorance, attempting to keep his laughs down in his head. renjun simply blinks, sending an amusing stare jisung’s way.

you raise your eyebrows, jeno guesses it was something you didn’t expect. “no jisung, it’s just when you get used to pulling all nighters as an intern, it bleeds into you pulling all nighters in general”.

“that sounds like a problem” jisung replies in a tone that implies genius. jeno supposes he does know all, but you instead stick out your tongue.

“shhh” you press a finger to his lips, completely shutting him up.

donghyuck is still giggling, maybe the act of an android asking their creator if they have problems is a degree of humor he doesn’t expect. renjun simply finds the display cute, there’s no need for words, jeno knows how he feels.

he decides to turn away, pushing down any other thoughts, he knows your time together is limited, this attachment is only making such a thing worse.

his stomach twists into something ugly, and he swallows down nothing.

X.                     “ nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change “.

it isn’t that difficult to come across you in the dead of night.

that seems to be when your most active, na jaemin only scales the halls at midnight because of the anxiety he feels rising. of course, he won’t divulge to anybody that those worries are present, really renjun doesn’t seem to enjoy talking, jeno is much too sweet for him to handle, and donghyuck.. he’s a character.

you weren’t wrong about the all nighter claim, as his eyes fixate on your figure, flipping through coding documents in a manner that’s simply so entrancing. his hands remain shoved in his pockets, his stare endless as you carry on with your coding admiration. he then smiles, why are you like this?

“rough night?” he finally speaks into the air, startling you suddenly. you settle into a silent chuckle, an empty cup of coffee dormant on the table before you. his gaze softens, and he steps closer to you, shoulders brushing in a brief moment.

“not exactly, just last minute observations, launch is soon..”

when you mutter those words, the air seems to still. it shouldn’t come as a surprise, jisung wasn’t created to be cute and tell you two he loves you, jisung was created to explore a planet uninhabitable to humans, project apollo is supposed to be just that.

jaemin takes in a deep breath. “yep, launch soon”.

the repeated words does nothing but add to the stillness of the air, which only elevates your feelings about the whole thing. you stack the papers on top of one another, sucking your teeth. “you don’t usually work with others, right? i hope i lived up to your expectations”.

it’s much more than that, why do you gaze as if i display constellations over my cheek? why do your eyes dazzle in that way? why are you you?

“you exceeded them, you’re exceptional”.

jaemin mistakens the blush on your cheeks as something other than platonic, but could you blame him? you could simply be flattered.. and na jaemin should be allowed a delusion once in a while. “i have to assume some of those words are exaggerated”.

“take the compliment”.

he doesn’t inherently beg, but the plea is heard as an undertone. you snicker, scratching behind your ear. “i could say the same, i was trying my best to impress you..”

“you didn’t exactly need me, you’re a powerhouse you know?”

you again giggle, flattery high in the air. “couldn’t have done it without you, jisung is dear to me”.

jaemin hums, shoulders again brushing with yours. “he’s basically our son anyway”.

“you’re really trying to sell that”.

“it’s true, isn’t it?”

your smile is soft, yes, it is true, but the words aren’t spoken. you again glance downward at the stack of papers formerly grasping at your attention, urging for jaemin to talk your ear off. “i guess..”

jaemin grabs at the opportunity to admire your side profile, he isn’t all about the star knowledge, but according to the many whispers from you, tonight is when the constellation auriga is present in the night sky. you said that it’s one of your favorites, auriga imitates the shape of a hexagon once all the stars connect in the sky. it’s always around your birthday that it is visible in the sky, your eyes gleam with an intrigue that could also be mistaken for enchantment.

it’s funny.

“i can teach you all there is about constellations”.

jaemin’s smile mirrors the bewitchment hidden in his pupils. “that would be nice”.

he actually doesn’t care, but the act of you talking while jaemin simply listens is his ideal type of date.

you hum, again glancing up as you pause. you blink, your stare endless as jaemin registers the sudden closeness of you two. the stars are aligning in the sky tonight, jaemin can’t help but observe the patterns of your moles and how they replicate the positions of the stars you so dearly love. everything about you is so beautiful, beautiful in a manner reminiscent of the astral cluster he usually pays no mind to.

jaemin’s gaze travels, your lips are very pretty, interesting. he’s listened around, he’s aware that he probably isn’t the only person here with such interests in you specifically, but this is probably the closest anyone has ever gotten in that regard.

you feign ignorance, eyes shifting as you notice where jaemin stares. either you’re nervous, or you simply have no idea what to say.

and really, jaemin wants to, he wants to so bad, it wouldn’t even be that much of a movement, if he just leaned closer just the slightest..

he stops himself before he can get any closer.

“you should get some sleep now, seriously” jaemin opts to say, cutting off his own thoughts with a complete topic switch. “come on.. please?”

there’s a slight whine to his tone, and your lips do an upward turn at the question, a small snicker falling from them. “maybe a few more minutes?”

“do you want for me to use force?”

you again grin at that one, smoothly sliding the stack of papers into a folder. you blow a breath between your lips, clasping your hands together. “fine then, i’ll sleep”.

“you will, i’m going to be watching you the whole entire time”.

“creep”.

jaemin sticks out his tongue as a response.

XI.                     “ how mutable are our feelings, and how strange is that clinging love we have of life in the excess of misery! “.

on the day of launch, jaemin wears all black, a sentiment to how he must be feeling. donghyuck doesn’t attempt to reach out, the sharp looks he earns are enough to keep him silent. you seem to take it a little better, not exactly wearing all black, but also unable to keep up the fixed smiles you use to erase worry.

everyone looks like they haven’t slept in a week, which, to be fair, they probably haven’t. donghyuck pays little attention to jaemin in his all, but he knows the other is missing a good week of shut eye. jeno was up all night with stomach dropping anxiety, he continuously tossed and turned in his bed, eyes remaining open until the sun rose above the horizon. renjun keeps silent, but he isn’t having a better time either, his eyes continuously fluttering shut on the commute to work.

this is supposed to be the best day of your career, what you’ve been working towards since the start of the stupid internship you all accepted. still, you all just seem the slightest bit miserable, even on the supposed happiest day of your lives.

breakfast is silent, you leave early enough that donghyuck doesn’t catch you until you all gather at the laboratory, listening to the machinery emanating noise from each corner of the room.

jaemin sits down beside him, and while donghyuck wishes to peacefully ignore his presence, it’s rendered difficult with him now right there. the younger seemingly longs to make an effort, but donghyuck still can’t talk to him without thinking of what he last said to him.

(“i almost kissed him, you know” he recalls jaemin speaking into the air five days ago, why jaemin decided to say it to him? donghyuck will never know. donghyuck paused his sorting of documents, blinking as he turned the way of his pink haired acquaintance. his face scrunched inquiringly, as if he had no idea who jaemin was talking to whilst he was the only one in close distance to him.

“who? jeno?” donghyuck’s eyes shifted his way, gaze lingering on your hands, which stayed massaging jeno’s shoulders across the room.

“what? no” jaemin replied, seemingly offended by such a suggestion, even with his insistence that jeno is ‘a pretty good looking guy..’.

donghyuck again blinked, licking his lips as his gaze settled onto jaemin once more. “so.. who?”

jaemin didn’t speak it out, simply motioned his head in the direction donghyuck stared a brief moment prior. donghyuck processed his words slowly, then his eyes widened in a manner he had absolutely no idea they could.

“y/n?” donghyuck couldn’t hide the contempt of his tone, yeah jaemin did say ‘almost’, but does that really matter? jaemin was the new guy, yet he was the only one who managed to get close enough, his jealousy wasn’t exactly unreasonable.

because donghyuck could understand how it is with jeno, he’d gotten much used to it at that point. no, how could na jaemin just.. find the courage so easily? it was an ego bruiser he didn’t expect.

“so why didn’t you then?” donghyuck hid his scorn behind more disdain he tried to use as a weapon, a wall, it didn’t matter. “and why are you telling me about this?”

“i don’t know.. guess i just felt he wouldn’t want it”.

jaemin sounded hurt, how rich. if donghyuck had to guess who you’d be with out of everyone else in the team, it would probably be jaemin, the newbie who’s just as much a robot nerd as you are. it was a match made in heaven.

“i’m not the one he wants”.

donghyuck assumed he was lying at that point, jaemin was playing with him, taunting him with knowledge only he had from the variety of time he spent with you. “sure, and did he tell you that?”

jaemin’s shrug was empty. “he didn’t have to, just.. if you get the opportunity, then you should probably take it”.

what the fuck.

did na jaemin really just tell donghyuck that if he had the opportunity to kiss you, he should take it? the other stared into practically nothing, jaemin finished with what he had to say, there were no more words left for him to utter.

“..alright”.)

donghyuck can’t exactly resist the urge, which is unfortunate for him because he had a good avoiding jaemin track record that’s pretty golden to him. is he really that curious?

“you okay?” donghyuck inquires, an eyebrow raise being his go to add on. jaemin looks one snap away from punching him, his balled up fist frightens donghyuck, who scoots one seat away to ensure his own safety. for all of jaemin’s expressions, donghyuck has never seen him look so unhappy. grumpy, sometimes. irritated, mostly with him, but the grief marring his expression is much too intense.

jaemin’s gaze remains fixated on you, performing regular actions that appear to be much more because of how you do it. “not sure what i was expecting” he whispers so quietly it aches. “jupiter is far away, it’ll take him only seven months, guess i can commend you guys for that one”.

right, any regular journey to jupiter would take six years at best, the architecture of project apollo as a whole is really the saving grace of this mission. donghyuck would probably die having to wait six years for jisung and the spacecraft to even land on jupiter, he can’t imagine how you’d feel.

“god fuck this”.

donghyuck glances your way, eyeing the shine in your irises as you gaze upon a model of jupiter, jisung’s cheek pressed onto your shoulder. jupiter has never been your favorite planet, you often deem it ‘the overrated planet’, because, in your own words; “it’s color scheme isn’t my favorite, all that helium nauseates me”.

you can always find something to focus on, even the things that seem so unimportant. “anything can be unique if you’re open minded enough hyuckie”.

he barely contains his giggles at the recollection of your words, he’s afraid of asking about your feelings, because while you’ve never been one to give snippy responses, there’s still a voice in the back of his mind reminding him of your unpredictability, he shouldn’t be so quick to think that.

“he’ll be fine”.

“jisung is like.. his pride and joy, he won’t take it well”.

and clearly, neither will you.

donghyuck forbids such words from escaping his lips, launch is in an hour, he should focus.

XII.                     “ when falsehood can look so like the truth, who can assure themselves of certain happiness? “.

jisung’s first communication falls on a sunday.

renjun remembers the day of the week because it comes the day after donghyuck’s birthday. he specifically remembered that one because you all spent donghyuck’s birthday at the lab, paired with little to no bickering with jaemin, and a privilege which included being able to kiss you all he wanted. it’s somewhere around four in the morning that renjun jolts awake from where he laid down on his desk to find you staring at the screen in wide-eyed awe.

<<< …happy birthday donghyuck!

<<< good morning, i love you. did i miss it?

it would usually take months, even up to years for messages to travel this far. that was a long while ago, though. now, it only takes a good twenty three hours for messages to be received, which is definitely shorter than the time it takes to travel there. seven months, you now spend much more time at the laboratory than prior, waiting by the screen in the control room for any kind of message.

there isn’t a character limit to the messages, conversations can go on forever, like he never left. sort of like he never left, renjun thinks it’s a bit off in terms of timing, but it’s enough to please both you and jaemin.

renjun scurries closer, face illuminated by the dark blue screen.

jisung takes pictures of a lot of important things, just like he was programmed to do. sometimes, he doesn’t even photograph things that are that important, yet it can still be perceived as such.

jaemin appears out of nowhere, arms folded over his chest as he squints his eyes at the screen right in front of him. renjun has enough energy to produce a lethargic chuckle.

<<< i think this ball of gas kind of looks like a bunny, doesn’t it?

<<< [IMAGE ATTACHED]

“oh, i see it” jaemin breaths, blinking a few times in a pattern of recognition.

donghyuck jolts awake from where he’d been quietly snoring on jeno’s shoulder. “i do too”.

your nose scrunches, just barely registering renjun’s hand coming to hold yours. “yeah, same here”.

<<< the stars are really beautiful right now!

<<< see? it’s aquarius, y/nie said that’s one of his favorites!

<<< remember?

<<< did jaemin lose his ring yet?

right, the ring. it was a request on jisung’s part, everyone got matching rings after he saw snow for the first time. jaemin did lose the ring actually, it slipped down into the cushions of the main room and he lost his mind trying to find it. he seemed so genuinely torn up by it that everyone swore to secrecy, much too afraid of how jisung would react to such news.

“of course not” you’re quick to lie, nudging jaemin with your shoulder. “next time you see the stars like that, make sure to take a picture with you in it okay? i miss seeing your face”.

there’s a hint of anguish in your tone, your eyes a shade of red that’s terrifying to an impossible extent. renjun continues to caress your hands with are still laced together, thumb smoothing over your knuckles as a gesture of fondness. it’ll be okay, i’m here, everyone is here, we get how you feel.

the words aren’t spoken, simply dissolved.

for the next few minutes, you all take turns replying to jisung’s messages, and renjun can tell, all of you needed this. though it’d be hard to reach such words through all your pigheaded attitudes, it’s nice knowing that a message finally came around, there was an anxiety in the air that all of you could feel, yet you simply left unsaid.

it’s hard to be here without him sometimes, because though it won’t be said, everyone feels as if they’re missing a piece of themselves with him gone. renjun never thought he would be able to get to this point, he never thought an attachment was even possible, he guesses he was wrong about that part.

donghyuck again passes out against jeno when it’s all over, jaemin placing a hand on your shoulder which lingers before he again settles on a nearby chair.

you remain stuck on the bright blue light which permeates from the screen, seemingly enraptured. renjun stays beside you, hands still together.

“he’ll be okay” he whispers, not exactly sure of those words but speaking them anyway. he wants to ensure at least a measure of peace for you, anything to result in the anxiety dissipating from your features. “trust yourself, alright?”

you don’t respond, simply blink once again.

it’s your own way of uttering the words; i don’t know if i can.

XIII.                     “ man, i cried, ‘how ignorant art thou in thy pride of wisdom!’ “.

it isn’t helped by the fact that nine months into project apollo’s first mission, jisung suddenly goes offline.

“what do you mean he’s gone offline?” jaemin reiterates, as if the prospect of that actually being possible is completely off the table.

i told you so, jeno thinks in his mind, his heart sinks into his stomach. of course this was going to happen, i knew this was going to happen.

donghyuck looks helpless, something that is frightening to jeno, not surprising, unnerving. “comms to the ship are still active for now” he explains, voice just barely holding up against an upcoming tremble. “calm down, we’re still trying to reach him, maybe he’s just late to respond, maybe—”

“he’s never late” jaemin cuts in, hair tousled in every direction. jeno is, again, terrified. the room is silent, if you take away the arguing, renjun is tryibg his best to keep himself together, and your own silence is nerve-racking, your eyes trained on the screen before you. “he’s never late donghyuck, so don’t tell me to fucking calm down alright? have you checked the log for any unusual activity?”

jeno is grateful for his ringing ears, the argument bleeding out into uncomfortable background noise. you bite down into your bottom lip, quickly drawing blood with the force you put into your action. jeno almost breaks the silence by inquiring to you about the whole thing, but of course, they can’t shut up.

“this was probably caused by your shitty work, so much for your robotic skills” donghyuck makes sure to mock jaemin’s voice, jabbing a finger in the square of her chest, crowding in his face.

“my fault?” jaemin scoffs, pushing him back with a heavy shove of the shoulder. “my work is fucking flawless, donghyuck, don’t take out your frustrations on me because you miscalculated and caused this mess!”

“oh but that’s exactly what you’re doing now isn’t it? don’t try to act so high and mighty when you’re genuinely being a fucking hypocrite!”

it seems that this fight is about to well out into the physical territory, but you then speak up; “if you two can’t be quiet then you should just get out”.

you pinch the bridge of your nose, grinding your teeth in motions which displays your irritation. no, it isn’t your tone, it’s your actions. your voice is simply soft, a whisper that could barely be heard even in the pin drop silence.

they both long to sneak in one last word, jeno can see it in the twitching of their facial muscles, but as to not upset you, they shut up. donghyuck huffs, storming his way out, unfortunately not taking the awkwardness of it all with him. it’s not long before jaemin exits as well, but not before he glances at you with simply.. grief.

renjun only continues his silence as a form of fear, jeno knows you wouldn’t, but he’s also aware that part of him is afraid to speak in fear of pissing you off.

you kick at the station in front of you, not hard, but it still earns a flinch. you suck your teeth, just barely registering jeno’s presence beside you. “i just need time to think..” you mutter, resting your head against the control panel.

there’s a beat of silence which prolongs. it’s too much of time, it’s as if your fate hangs in the air, something of an unknown future that none of you can control no matter how much you attempt to. there can’t be another failure, renjun and jeno know that enough, the glances they exchange only elevate that point.

“do you really think he’s just late to respond?” you ask, blinking away some sort of devastation behind your eyes. it’s less of saddening and more of terrifying, everyone remembers the mess which was project athena, how much of a terrible state the failure of the mission put you in, this is really your last shot at this, whether you’re aware or not.

“i hope not, i—”

“that’s not what i asked jen, please” you aren’t one to plead. jeno hates it, you’re usual carefree attitude accompanied by pride replaced by pure agony. jeno can’t give you a sure answer, because he doesn’t know, and the fact itself is enough to amplify his own anxiety.

his mouth twists. “..no” it seems you expected that answer, but the disappointment is still clear. “but i don’t know what could’ve possibly gone wrong”.

jeno catches the twitch of your left eye, and he allows for your head to fall onto his shoulder. “what if they were right?” you say, rising from your place, pupils blown out in a frightened manner. “what if it’s my fault and we never get to see him again? what if—”

“y/n” jeno doesn’t let you finish, he grabs your hands and soothes his thumbs over the soft skin. “don’t say that, we’re going to see him again” he hopes his expression conveys the.. truth in his words. “we will, swear”.

renjun opts to rub the back of your shoulder in an attempt to calm your nerves. you take in a deep breath, blinking downward towards the floor. “right, i’m not gonna stop trying..” you mutter, smoothing your hands over your face.

the truth is, the moment jisung left, everyone knew that this was possible, that failure could be on the horizon whenever, no matter your circumstances. it’s the slightest bit comforting to know that, offline or not, jisung is still out there. that means there’s also a possibility of bringing him back too.

jeno knows you’ll take any chance there is, it doesn’t matter how much you have to put into it.

<<< my battery is getting low.

<<< it’s cold, i’m going to sleep. just for a little bit..

XIV.                     “ …the companions of our childhood always possess a certain power over our minds which hardly any later friend can obtain “.

that’s unfortunately easier said than done. you’ve been trying to contact jisung for three months, but the government isn’t going to fund a rescue mission to save something they don’t even deem alive, no matter the persuasion or the arguments put up against them.

project apollo was a success, prototype 205 served it’s purpose. there is no reason to organize a mission to rescue the android or the spacecraft it piloted, it’s all said and done.

one official asks jaemin, “can’t you just make a new one?”

he leaves the question without comment.

jaemin heard from fleeting whispers that doyoung decides to keep your position. interesting. he opts to locking himself in his own apartment for two weeks, practically sinking into his feat of isolation until you and renjun have to forcibly drag him out back to work then to your apartment.

he doesn’t verbalize his thanks, he instead decides to cook breakfast for all of you as his own silent appreciation.

sinking into work is mundane for you, and when jaemin slowly slips into similar habits, he can’t help but think of you.

good morning, i love you. i love you, i love you, i love you, i lov—

“seems like you need it” a cup of coffee is placed onto the table before him, and the dragging chair releases a cry as you take a seat. “please drink it” you plead, now much too used to the sight of jaemin’s frown.

he gives a glance, then, he smiles, not too big of a smile, simply a small one. it’s nice to be alone with you for once, just for a little while.. over coffee..

“too much caffeine, i might go crazy”.

“think it’s a little too late to be worrying about that one” you decide to respond, tapping onto the table in a specific pattern. you take jaemin’s hand into yours, examining his bare fingers. “i can get you a new one”.

“it’d be like replacing it” jisung would know.

there’s a certain look of distaste behind your eyes jaemin so wishes he could decipher, because for all his smarts, it feels that you’re specifically difficult to solve. he can’t decode you no matter how hard he tries.

a frown tugs at your lips, as if you’ve been in a difficult spot, you speak; “i’ll pay, just.. think about it”.

i won’t give up on him.

we won’t give up on him.

(“neptune is really your favorite?” jaemin inquired with a clear indication that it was an eye-opener for him. even jisung seemed surprised by such a revelation, his human like eyes blinking once, twice, thrice as you began chuckling at the shared expressions.

“what? did you not expect it or something?” you giggled, head tipping downward as you fixed the placement of your glasses. “it’s the planet i’m most interested in, even before my internship”.

jaemin recalls the manner in which jisung glanced over at him, the intrigue behind his eyes reminiscent of your very own. there was a warmth in his chest that he’s sure could never be replicated, not only due to jisung, but also due to you. he blinked as he ruffled the other’s hair, again staring your way. “it’s always been more about the robotics for me”.

there was a conflict in your expression. “are you telling me you don’t have a favorite planet?”

the playfulness of your expression betrayed the gravitas you attempted to display, because you really couldn’t contain your amusement, jisung blinked up at jaemin, sharing the confusion with you. “even jisung has one, have you really not thought about it?”

jaemin shook his head, now the one under speculation. “space is not a huge interest of mine”.

“that’s boring!” jisung whined, and your hum of agreement earned an eyebrow raise. jaemin’s gasp of offense was most definitely overdramatized, and jisung giggled at the expression. “it doesn’t have to be deep or anything, just pick one, my favorite is saturn..”

jaemin had to resist a coo at jisung’s irresistible charm, he again twirled a strand of jisung’s hair between his finger. “i guess.. venus?”

both you and jisung let out a synonymous groan, drawing a sigh of irritation from jaemin. “of course you picked the boring one” jisung mumbled, jaemin’s resounding gasp full of the vexation he felt.

“what is that supposed to mean!?”

“jisungie is calling you boring nana”.

jaemin allowed for his bottom lip to jut out, his arms folding over his chest in a feigned display of stubbornness as he heard jisung begin snickering.

and you? you were simply enamored. jaemin was too, but for a contrasting reason.)

jaemin looks up at you, your gaze trained on your now empty cup of coffee. the smell remains lingered in the air, jaemin hasn’t touched his yet, much too busy reminiscing on specific memories. you zone out much too easily, he snaps his fingers in front of your face, and you startle out of it. “why’d you dye your hair pink?”

there’s a childish curiosity lacing your tone, nail scratching at the metal surface of the table. jaemin keeps his hum light, his eyes traveling towards the model of the solar system, lasering on jupiter. fucking jupiter. “i like pink”.

you seem to enjoy that answer. “it’s pretty”.

jaemin unconsciously tenses, nails picking at his cuticles. “..thank you”.

he knows the sudden anxiety doesn’t go past you, nothing ever goes past you, it’s just the slightest bit frightening. the upward curve of your eyes imitates your very own smile, and you slide your chair backward, rising from your spot. “don’t worry, alright?”

jaemin isn’t sure it’s that easy, but for you, he’ll be sure to try.

he clears his throat, pulling you into a quick embrace that catches you off guard, if your small yelp is any indication. he can’t help the tightening of his arms, pressing himself against you in a moment of clarity. you chuckle into the air, reciprocating the affectionate gesture with your arms around his waist. “sorry, too surprising?” he mumbles into your shoulder.

he simply needed this.

“no, it’s alright, sometimes everyone needs a hug”.

jaemin squeezes again, taking a deep breath. he keeps silent for a while, remaining stuck to you as he collects his next few words. “i love you” he whispers, lips doing a downturn.

your eyebrow raises, and jaemin is sure you heard those words, because you chuckle again.

XV.                     “ my spirit will sleep in peace; or if it thinks, it will not surely think thus. farewell “.

jisung’s birthday is on february fifth. when jeno inquired as to why, you stated that “he fits much of the aquarius qualities”.

jeno took the initiative to study it. aquarius is the eleventh astrological sign, originating from the eponymous constellation. it’s ruling planet is uranus. aquarius are famously innovative, creative, analytical, spirited, loyal, loyalty, you muttered it to him the first time everyone met jisung, when he asked you about his name, your nails tracing the spelling into the palm of his hand. he finds it nice how things like that come back around.

tonight, aquarius is in the night sky. aquarius is one of your favorite constellations (but now that jeno thinks about it, all of them seem to be your favorite). jisung has never been able to see it, he left for jupiter before the constellation would be present in the sky, but both you and jaemin made sure to inform him of its existence, with him being an aquarius.

jeno disappointedly watches as the hope quickly dissipates from both your and jaemin’s expressions the longer days go without a message from jisung. you haven’t given up just yet, you’ll never give up on jisung, you told jeno that yourself.

project apollo remains running, the spacecraft is all intact, but there hasn’t been an update on jisung at all. the visible unhappiness gracing your features is upsetting, jeno can’t recall the last time you were so down, your usual cheerfulness no longer around to comfort him.

donghyuck tries his best, managing to squeeze a few well deserved giggles out of you. there seems to be something off with jaemin, he avoids eye contact with you in the most not jaemin like way possible, strange. in contrast to him, renjun is much more.. well.. willing to approach.

really, jeno guesses it must be obvious by now, and jeno doesn’t just mean renjun. he means him, donghyuck, jaemin, all of them alike, they don’t have to repeat it for all of them to know how it feels.

donghyuck has slowly hinted to jeno over the years since he’s joined, but he never acts upon it. jeno never knew why, he always thought the headstrong, perverse donghyuck would take up such a challenge, yet he never attempted. he assumed that you and donghyuck would be a pretty good match.

but he only ever thought that because he assumed it would quell his own jealousy.

renjun could never hide it well enough, his easy blushing stuttering words gave it away pretty quickly. it wasn’t even a week after his initial arrival that he probably realized.

jaemin.. jaemin was always the hardest to decode for jeno. maybe the bonding over robots, and by proxy, the creation of jisung, was what caused the enchantment. jeno can’t even find it in himself to be possessive or jealous of any sort, he just.. gets it. jaemin is captivated by every single one of your actions, jeno has never been able to share such a feeling with a person.

renjun’s cheek presses against the window, gaze trained on the barely visible stars in the sky. you hum the familiar tune of ‘shining star’ by earth wind and fire, engrossed in the song you’ve become so accustomed to. jeno knows why, he recalls you uttering; “it’s a classic, got me through university and this stupid internship..”

jeno finds your descriptions of things, even the things that usually don’t matter, to be so beautiful.

“words are just so great, you know? i can call anything pretty, beautiful, amazing, prepossessing, it’s just so.. fitting”.

jeno adores you, adores your heart and your soul and your fondness towards the weirdest of adjectives.

jeno taps in rhythm with your humming, the lyrics aren’t sung, but he can still picture them in his mind.

you’re a shining star

no matter who you are

shining bright to see

what you could truly be

you’re a shining star..

“should we go stargazing?”

instantly donghyuck perks up, his hair all over the place. jeno chuckles at the sight, reaching over to put at least some of the strands back in place. “what time is it?” he mumbles, staring down at his bare wrist, no watch in sight.

“twenty minutes to midnight” jaemin replies, glancing over at the window, squinting in an attempt to get a better view of the constellations. “doesn’t seem like a bad idea”.

“aquarius is in the night sky”.

right, renjun’s constellation knowledge is easily comparative to yours. you slip on a sweater as you tap donghyuck on the shoulder, then intertwining your fingers with jeno’s. “oh don’t tell me we’re going to sneak up?”

there’s a fitting expression of amusement gracing your features, but you don’t respond, simply humming.

jaemin doesn’t put up much of a fight, renjun seems enthralled by such an idea, jeno is aware that he often sneaks up onto the roof to watch the stars from time to time, donghyuck makes brash comments every few minutes, but it’s clear he doesn’t care, sneaking around is probably his favorite past time (jeno knows much more than he wishes to).

“shit, much colder than i thought it would be” jaemin mutters, again avoiding eye contact with you as you give a small chuckle. “jisung would complain”.

“why do you sound annoyed? you’re the one who programmed that!”

“i didn’t! he just naturally does that! he’s like a child..”

you push at jaemin’s shoulder, yelping as you watch him stumble. donghyuck snorts, pointing at the sight with pure amusement. “please don’t die, you know doyoung would be pissed” jeno whispers, jaemin stays glaring (but can it even be called a glare with the love behind his eyes?)

renjun keeps his hands settled in his lap as he stares upward. “really? only because doyoung would be pissed?”

“you know he doesn’t want any bad associated with the lab’s name”.

“if only he knew” donghyuck clicks his tongue, tilting his head as he rubs his eyes.

jeno’s squint, and his lips take an upturn. he can just barely make out the shape of a water bearer in the sky, someone pouring water out of a jug. huh, aquarius really is pretty.

the shine from the stars reflects in your widened pupils. you blink, then you snicker at something unsaid. “think jisung would like this one..”

jeno’s eyebrows furrow, yet he keeps his face still, still enough that you won’t pick up on the falter of his expression. you hum once again, swinging your legs back and forth.

“i miss him”.

it’s an admittedly strange claim. everybody knows already, the honesty shouldn’t be a surprising factor. there’s less of a tremble in your tone and more of a simple scratch, a rasp in your voice which can be attributed to your days spent staring at a control screen with no reply.

jeno leans against you, letting the warmth encapsulate him as he watches you smile peripherally. jaemin merely sighs, clearly sharing such emotions.

jeno’s smile grows when you nudge him, pointing upward at a shooting star.

“pretty huh?”

jeno doesn’t respond, not exactly focused on the stars, just you.