#in a perfect world branch goes back to being blue

[phibsies]

i feel like one of two things could happen if we get a tv series for TBT, both of them are equally funny to me

[pancho-pinto]

Too Tall Grass (Not Really)

>>> Ao3 link <<<

Here my @mcyt-co-create fic that definitively did not change at all from the original idea. Nope. Never<3

Characters - Bdubs/Joel Chapters - 1/5 Tags - General Audiences, Fantasy AU, Slice of Life, Hurt/Comfort Summary - A glimpse into the lives of two princes as they grow up together while navigating their powers, and the consequences of 'bonding' since childhood.

The sun shines bright, few white clouds against clear blue skies. It’s a beautiful day, a lovely day. Perfect for playing, which is what Joel intends to do. He hugs the red ball close to his chest, protective and careful as he’s been told to be. He walks with small steps, assured and certain, but small. His shoes touch the grass, the breeze on his face. 

He looks left and right, back and forth, looking around the big garden. He is determined, childishly so, to find someone to play with. But not just any ‘someone’, a very important ‘someone’—a most important ‘someone’. 

He doesn’t run, a leisurely walk, careful, always careful. 

“Mummy!” he calls instead, stopping at the center of the garden, feeling the tears prickling at the edges of his eyes. He hugs the ball closer, looking for reassurance, feeling even smaller in such a big place. It’s open and it’s bright and it’s so very lonely. He hiccups, tries again, “Mummy!”

He looks down at his red ball, looks at the green grass, his vision blurs with crystal tears quickly. Where is Mummy? Why is he alone? He doesn’t like being alone. 

He sniffles, another hiccup catching on his throat, but he looks up, looks around, and keeps walking. The tears don’t stop sliding down red cheeks, and his steps stumble with uncertainty. Until—

“Mummy!” 

Joel runs forward, covering the last distance as he approaches the flower bushes, a woman sitting in front of them. Her hair is the same color of tree trunks like Joel’s, and her clothes are pastel green with a big straw hat. The woman turns her head and body, tilts up her hat and smiles as her little boy crashes onto her lap, sobbing and clinging onto her dress as his ball rolls away. She wraps a hand around his back, gently soothes the worry. 

“I’m here, baby. Mummy is here.” 

He hiccups, buries his little face into the fabric further. 

“I thought you were playing with the other kids. Do you not want to play anymore?” She asks softly, gently like the breeze and sweet like the quiet bird chirps. She is safety, his haven. “Oh, my love, one day we will find someone you cannot sneak away from. Our most loyal Ares and Athena aren’t getting any younger, you know? Chasing after you all day. One day. Your father will have a field day looking for a babysitter. The world for you. We’ll give everything to you, the best for you.”

It goes quiet a while—the soft wind making the branches and bushes dance their slow waltz, the birds chirping quietly up in the canopies, and her soft hums as her fingers run through his brown curls. Joel rubs his face into her dress, lifts up enough to rub his eyes with his fists, and carefully he climbs up to her, holding onto the fabric of her corset. 

“Hi, baby,” she greets softly, and when he looks up at her, she smiles so warmly for her baby. She finds big, brown eyes, a little red from crying, like hers—so much like hers. She is as radiant as he is curious, her face, her eyes, his father's lips, the color of his skin, their courage, their strength and their faults. Their boy, their baby. Their son. 

“Hi, Mummy,” he replies just as softly, so much softer and brittle. He raises a hand to her face, touching her cheek, warmth on the small of his palm. Her hand on his back holds him steady. He looks at his hand, looks at the other, looks at the crumpled dress and he flattens it out with minute movements. “Hello.”

“Your ball,” she offers, taking the ball from Ares and lifting it with her other hand. Joel sits back on her lap, grabs the ball before offering it to her. She smiles, “You wanted to play with Mummy?”

Joel nods, lowering the ball onto his lap. 

“Sorry, baby, Mummy can’t play right now.” She caresses the side of his face with the back of her knuckles, pushing his cheek lightly and making him close his eyes before he blinks them open. She chuckles. “Do you want to see what Mummy is doing?”

Joel nods, then leans over to the side, letting the ball roll away from his hands. It stops against Ares, the wolf promptly rolls it over to its stomach as it lays down, keeping it safe as it did the Queen and her only son. She leans down to press a kiss on the top of his head, nuzzling him with her cheek before wrapping her hands around his sides, lifting him a little to turn him around. One of his small hands grabs her dress, her left arm keeping around his stomach. 

She grabs the shears beside her on the ground, showing them in front of him, “These are garden shears. Like scissors but for the garden. I use them to cut things. Like dead branches and leaves and stems—that's called pruning. It helps the plant grow stronger.”

Carefully, Joel places his hand on the rings, patting them before tilting his head back to look up at her. He blinks, his eyes like hers, “Why?”

She chuckles, lowering the shears as she scoots a little closer to the bush. Joel looks between the bush and her, then looks at the bush as her arm around him lifts to the branches. He lifts his left hand too, places it against her arm, holding onto her. 

She moves some branches and leaves, revealing some brown leaves. 

“Well,” she hums, “sometimes plants get sick. Not all of them can take medicine and heal like us, so we have to cut some parts off so the sickness doesn’t spread.” She gently lifts the branch with the dead leaves with the side of her index, then cuts it off. 

Carefully, she moves leaves and branches around, looking for more. “Hm, and sometimes, when certain parts die, the plant sends energy to a part that does not need more energy. So when you cut them off, that energy can go elsewhere. For example, it can help grow flowers, and a lot of times, those flowers grow into fruits.”

“Peach?” Joel looks back again, and she looks down at him, smiling. 

“Yes! Like our peach tree. Do you remember our gardeners? The people who are always up high in ladders working on the trees?”

Joel nods.

“When Mummy is busy, they prune our trees when needed. They look after our trees and other plants in the garden. So when you see them next time, say ‘thank you’, okay, baby? They keep your peach tree healthy and they help the tree make lots of fruits. They help us a lot, so we should always thank them.”

Joel nods again. 

They sit a while long, working slowly on the flower bush. Joel rubs his eyes every now and then, a little yawn escaping his lips eventually. She smiles, continues her work, wrapping an arm around him as she works with one hand. His hands, so small, gently placed on her arm, holding her as she holds him. Tender.

“Mummy?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Does plant miss leaves?”

She raises her hand and brushes his cheek with the back of her finger, and he holds onto the heel of the palm with one of his. 

“They were useful once,” she starts gently, picking a fallen leaf and holding it to him. “Do you remember your lesson on photosynthesis? Why leaves are useful? They help the plant feed, and that helps the plant grow. But sometimes, things outgrow you, and you don’t need them anymore, so you have to let them go. They were useful, once, but sometimes keeping them when you no longer need them becomes unhealthy and can harm you.”

She hums, “But! I do think the plant might miss it. We all miss things, even when they hurt us. And growing up is learning to let them go, but you are allowed to miss them as long as you remember why you can’t keep them in your life anymore. Remember that, okay?”

Joel nods. “Mummy, Mummy,” he points to some leaves and a branch, discolored.

“Good job, baby.”

<<<>>>

The door opens, and Joel steps out into the sunny garden again. He looks back to the maid, bows to her, then waddles out. At the very center, there is a table with a big parasol over them, Ares sleeping under. His mother is sitting there, turns as he approaches, smiles at him so wide, so warm. 

“Mummy! Mummy!” he calls loudly, stopping close to her, his ball bumping the side of her leg as he looks up at her. 

She runs her fingers through his hair, lifting and settling him on her lap once again. She kisses his temple, his cheek, his nose. He closes his eyes with giggles at her affection, scrunching up his small face before opening his eyes to her warm ones. 

“Have something to eat, okay, baby? Say hi to our guest, too. Her Majesty the Forest Queen. She is a Queen, like me.”

Joel holds the ball against his stomach, shyly looking at the woman across from them. Her hair is long like Mummy, and her dress is very pretty and sparkly too. He curls up on Mummy’s lap, squeaking a shy little, “Hello.”

“Hello, love,” she greets back, just as warm as Mummy, “you can call me Mrs Alais, or Aunt Alais.”

He nods, small acknowledgement, clinging to the ball tighter. 

“Is that your ball? It’s so red! And clean. You must take care of it very well.”

Joel looks at his ball, pats it with one hand, then offers it to her.

Aunt Alais smiles, her eyes doing the same thing as Mummy’s, crinkling at the edges, and it’s so warm and safe. “Oh, love, I’m not dressed to play right now. But I think I might know someone who can play with you after you two have something to eat first.”

Joel tilts his head curiously, looking at her with big eyes, beaming at the prospect of playing with someone. He watches her hand extend to the trees, and golden glitter circles her arm, swirling and twirling like ball gowns during parties. The tree branches shake then part as a big flower bud extends out, pink petals with shaded white at the bottom, stopping near her hand and opening up slowly. Joel stands on Mummy’s lap, her arms holding him up as he looks over, eyes going wide when he sees a small boy sleeping inside. The boy’s clothes are like Aunt Alais—garments of greens and golds and browns. 

Aunt Alais wakes the boy up tenderly, the little boy blinking his eyes open, rubbing them as he sits up, looking at his mummy.  She places him into her lap, arm around his stomach as Joel sits down, looking back at Mummy then back to the other boy.  

The mothers take little sandwiches and give them to their respective sons. Joel takes the sandwich, taking small bites as he keeps his attention on the other boy eating too. 

“This is my son, Prince Bdubs. Bdubs, that’s Prince Joel, say hello. And say hello to Queen Joane too, we are guests in their house.”

“Hello!” The boy raises and waves his hand, face beaming with a bright, sleepy smile. Aunt Alais looks at him with a fond smile, looks at Joel the same way.

“Hello, Bdubs,” Mummy says warmly, and Joel only waves his hand. “Baby, is there something you want to ask Bdubs?”

Joel hugs his ball tighter to his chest, shakes his head. He pouts, looks down at his ball instead. Mummy chuckles softly, presses a kiss on his head. 

They sit a while longer, the mothers chatting and having some tea. The day continues to be bright with little wind. Joel watches Mummy peel a mandarin, and he grabs the segments from her hands. They are sweet, slightly sour, and they are perfect because Mummy peeled them. 

Joel eats quietly, peeking over at Bdubs. 

<<<>>>

Once again, Joel walks around the garden, their garden. The one everyone takes care of, a community effort. He helps sometimes, Mummy says he does. And sometimes he sits with her, Mummy and Daddy, in the shade eating peaches. Sometimes they play in the sun, until the sun turns orange and it gets cold. Other times he naps, curled up under a blanket, in Mummy or Daddy's lap, rhythmic breeze and humming rocking him to sleep. 

Today, however, he is looking for another. Not his parents, or anyone he really knows, but a friend regardless. He walks slowly, followed by Ares and Athena, and he finds Bdubs sitting near a small tree, recently planted, watching it intently. He walks to him, ball close to his chest, and Bdubs looks at him when he gets close enough. 

It’s quiet outside, and it’s a good day to play. 

The ball turns into a wooden sword, very light and blunt in his hand. 

Joel smacks Bdubs on the head. 

Bdubs cries for a long while after, and unsurprisingly, Joel has his gift taken away for a while longer.

[wheels-of-despair]

Worth It: The Honeymoon - Climbing Tree

A Worth It Blurb Series | Ralph Penbury x You | Series Masterlist

Your clasped hands swing between you as you walk through the forest, warm and pleasant and full of summer greenery.

"You don't seem like much of a nature person," you observe.

"I liked it here when I was little," he shrugs.

"Were you all alone?"

"Sometimes my cousins were here too."

You continue walking the overgrown path in silence, until you notice Ralph's pace picking up. You look at him curiously and try to match his stride, wondering what's got him so excited all of a sudden.

"There it is!" he beams as you come into a clearing. A massive tree stands at its center.

"It's beautiful, Ralph."

"It's the best climbing tree on the property!" His eyes sparkle with familiarity as he gazes upon it like an old friend.

"Is this the one you ripped your pants in?"

"You remember that?" He turns to you in bewilderment.

"Of course I do. It was quite a mental picture: Little Ralph having so much fun, he literally burst with joy… through his pants."

"You should've seen me after," he grins, "Holding them closed with both hands behind me, trying to keep my backside to the wall on the way to my room so I wouldn't get caught."

"Aww," you nudge him lovingly with your shoulder. He puts an arm around you and goes back to staring at the tree.

"Well, aren't you going to go say hello?" you prod.

Ralph smiles and kisses your temple before walking toward the tree. When he reaches it, he hugs the trunk, and you can't help but laugh at how adorable he is.

"How long has it been since you climbed it?" you question as you approach.

"I don't know," he answers, looking up at it from his place at the trunk. "Eleven or twelve years?"

"I believe you're due, Mr. Penbury."

He turns to look at you.

"Go on. I'll help mend your pants if they need it," you tease.

"Do you want to…?" Ralph tilts his head toward the tree shyly.

"Thought you'd never ask," you grin. "Lead the way."

Ralph's whole face lights up as he grabs your hand and pulls you to a low-hanging branch. Turning back to make sure you're watching, he grabs hold and scurries up it like a squirrel. He extends a hand to help you up, but you wave him off.

"Not my first tree, pup. Go on, I'll catch up."

Ralph moves up a few branches and turns back to watch you with wonder, hiking up your skirt and climbing up after him. You quickly get tangled in your own clothes, but manage to catch yourself.

"This is entirely unnecessary," you grumble, turning on the tree's lowest branch and leaning against the thick trunk. You kick off your shoes, unfasten your skirt, and watch it all fall to the ground. The shoes bounce, but the skirt floats down like a cloud. When you look back up to Ralph, he's staring at you with his mouth open. "What? Have you ever tried climbing a tree in a skirt?" He shakes his head and you laugh, continuing your climb with ease.

You and Ralph climb until you run out of climb-able branches, then sit on boughs facing each other, a considerable distance from the ground. You cross your arms on a branch in front of you and rest your chin on them, staring lovingly at the most perfect man in the world.

He mirrors your position and releases a contented sigh.

"I can see the appeal," you admire, shifting your focus from your stunning husband to all the green leaves and blue sky you can see from this height. "It's beautiful up here."

"I used to pretend it was a treehouse."

"A treehouse?" you ask. He nods, a faraway look in his eye.

"Like in Swiss Family Robinson."

"I loved that book."

"Me too," he says with a dazed smile. "I used to daydream about being shipwrecked with their family instead of mine. Making friends with the animals. Building the best, biggest treehouse in the world. Being out here all the time. No rules… no bedtime… no Victoria…"

"No consequences for ripping your pants?" you joke. He smiles, but it quickly fades.

"What's wrong, love?" you ask, a bit softer.

"Just thinking about the way things used to be," he sighs, looking at the ground. "How I used to be."

"What changed?" you asked gently. He meets your eye and chews his lip for a moment.

"School, I guess. Got sent away at 13, didn't really have time to do anything but study and try to survive. When I came back, we mostly stayed in the city." He looks down again and begins swinging his legs slowly. You wish you could hold him, but you can't reach him, so you'll have to comfort him with words. Damn.

"Well, you're home now. You can do anything you want. You're free, and you're happy, and I'm going to do everything I can to keep you that way." He gives you a wavering smile, his eyes suspiciously shiny. "Even if it means climbing trees in my undergarments," you wink.

Ralph's smile widens, and your heart warms. "Tell me more about this delightful treehouse of yours, if you please. What sort of amenities does this establishment have to offer? Is there a room available? Do you allow pets? Would it be possible to pay for my stay in kisses?"

Ralph throws his head back and laughs, then begins pointing out the different parts of his imaginary treehouse with absolute glee.

Just when you thought you couldn't possibly love him more.

[isfjmel-phleg]

@verite-card the quote on the scarf is from The Secret Garden, the beginning of Chapter 21:

One of the strange things about living in the world is that it is only now and then one is quite sure one is going to live forever and ever and ever. One knows it sometimes when one gets up at the tender solemn dawn-time and goes out and stands alone and throws one's head far back and looks up and up and watches the pale sky slowly changing and flushing and marvelous unknown things happening until the East almost makes one cry out and one's heart stands still at the strange unchanging majesty of the rising of the sun—which has been happening every morning for thousands and thousands and thousands of years. One knows it then for a moment or so. And one knows it sometimes when one stands by oneself in a wood at sunset and the mysterious deep gold stillness slanting through and under the branches seems to be saying slowly again and again something one cannot quite hear, however much one tries. Then sometimes the immense quiet of the dark blue at night with millions of stars waiting and watching makes one sure; and sometimes a sound of far-off music makes it true; and sometimes a look in some one's eyes.

And it was like that with Colin when he first saw and heard and felt the Springtime inside the four high walls of a hidden garden. That afternoon the whole world seemed to devote itself to being perfect and radiantly beautiful and kind to one boy. Perhaps out of pure heavenly goodness the spring came and crowded everything it possibly could into that one place. More than once Dickon paused in what he was doing and stood still with a sort of growing wonder in his eyes, shaking his head softly.

[strangerthingfanfic]

Chapter 1

High school Dilemma Chapter 2: Beyond the Imagination

Aaron couldn't believe it was almost Thanksgiving break. Time just flew by now that he had friends and family that loved him and wanted him around.

School was also going well but the workload kept getting more and more intense so he welcomed the holiday break.

He did start having strange nightmares though right around the beginning of November.

In his dreams, creatures from the D&D world show up and destroy the town and kill a lot of people.

On Nov.6, the dreams seem to come true.

He was on his way to Eddie's house to invite him and his Uncle to Thanksgiving dinner when he heard someone calling for help.

He followed the voice and saw Will Byers being chased by some sort of creature.

He instantly jumped off his bike and ran over to him, scooping the smaller kid up he dashed back towards his bike.

He could hear the creature behind them and with every breaking branch the growling grew louder and their life expectancy became shorter.

Suddenly he heard a loud bang and when he looked back the creature was gone.

He put Will down and looked around. That's when out of nowhere, he saw Jonathan Byers was heading toward them. He had burns on his arms but they didn't seem to bother him at all.

“Follow me,” he said, taking Will's hand and heading in the direction the monster had come from.

Aaron grabbed his bike and followed Jonathan into a clearing where there was already a group waiting.

Jonathan went over to Steve who wrapped him in his arms and said “I hate when you use your power”.

Jonathan pulled Steve close and kissed his forehead and said “I'm alright Stevie. It hurts less now that I'm in your arms”.

Aaron scanned the group and when his eyes landed on Eddie they felt like they doubled in size.

“What's going on?,” Aaron asked as Eddie came over to him.

Instead of answering he wrapped his arms around Aaron and kept saying he was sorry.

“Sorry for what?” Aaron asked, rubbing Eddie's back.

Eddie pulled back and Aaron noticed the tears streaming the normally smiling face looking back at him.

“I'm sorry you got messed up in all of this” Eddie said, making absolutely no sense to Aaron at all.

“You got me into nothing Eddie. I just want to know what's going on, Aaron said, wiping the trail of tears off of Eddie's cheek which earned a deep growl from none other than Daryl.

Eddie weakly smiled at him and said with the words still coming between sniffs “I…it's like this Aaron, Hawkins seems to have been built on top of the Veil of Shadows and there are monsters that live there.

Well, a few years back we formed a team made up of all different skill sets and we learned about different things that exist out in this huge world.

Like Jonathan for example, he can break the sound barrier and form an impenetrable kinetic shield around himself. He goes by Cannonball with his mutant friends.

I am the guide since I know a lot about what may or may not be living deep under our feet.

The twins, Billy and Jason Hargrove are part of an elite group of people who have garnered powers from alien crystals. If you're wondering, Jason usually uses his middle name Scott as his last name.

So basically they have these colored crystals

Jason - Red

Billy - Green

William - Blue

Heather - Pink

Patrick - White

And you Aaron have been chosen by the Black Crystal if you choose to accept its power.

The kiddos over there also have some helpful capabilities

Jane has telekinetic and some telepathic powers.

Will has a deep connection to the upside down aka the veil of shadows and so he can keep us informed.

Dustin is great at science so he helps build things of solving problems the rest of us can't.

Lucas is brave as hell and strong so he is a battle buddy for me.

Mike notices small minute details that most of us miss as long as they are not of the emotional facility.

Max is our group lookout and scout. She is quick and blends into crowds easily making her a perfect spy.

Pearl is our navigator. She is great with directions and can find even the smallest needle in any haystack.

Nancy is a super reporter so she goes with Max a lot of the time and she's dating Billy meanwhile Robin who's dating Heather is our gossip girl which comes in handy when you want to know if someone saw something who wouldn't be open about it.

Jason and William are also a thing and as you can see Daryl is already trying to move in on Patrick and it seems to be working” Eddie said in one breath pointing out everyone.

Aaron laughed. He loved hearing Eddie's voice so he could talk all day if he wanted to.

“So how about you Eddie, are you seeing anyone?” Aaron asked shyly, afraid of the answer but had to know.

It was Eddie's cheeks turn to turn a rosy red as he said “Yeah I hope so and I hope this doesn't scare them away” and with that he leaned in and softly kissed Aaron on the lips.

Everyone held their breath. Even Daryl made no useless noises. When Eddie pulled away he just stared right into Aaron’s face.

Aaron turned his back to Eddie for a minute and trying not to turn back around at the sound of Eddie's breathing slowing down, he walked over to Jason whom he gave the black crystal to.

“Ask me again after Thanksgiving,” Aaron said and went back to Eddie and laid his head against his chest.

“I would never say no to you. But I am hoping you and Wayne will join me and my grandparents for Thanksgiving dinner.

They cook enough for an army so please don't bring anything” Aaron said into Eddie’s chest with a laugh.

Eddie wrapped his arms around Aaron and said “we will be there and I can't wait for Wayne to meet my boyfriend”.

Aaron made a purring sound he didn't even know he could make at the sound of “boyfriend”.

The rest of the day was spent with everyone getting to know each other.

Aaron knew he would accept the crystal but first he was going to enjoy his first holiday with a boyfriend.

[watevermelon]

✧ Soulmate!Sakusa x Reader; You are Karasuno’s manager and, unfortunately for the both of you, very popular among those in your year.

➳  A/N: This is so fluffy and nothing like how I usually write, but it was fun!! Thanks for the ask!! (: <3

✧  Masterlist

----xXxXxXxXxXx-----

There was a strange pull to volleyball that you could not fully explain, just that you were always associated somehow with the sport. In middle school, you were the manager of Kitagawa Daiichi and tended to hang around the loud duo of Oikawa and Iwaizumi. And eventually, when you chose going to Karasuno, it was no surprise that Kiyoki had roped you into becoming a manager again.

You were the last of your year to meet your soulmate - many of your friends having met their’s already. 

Kageyama did not recount it often, but Hinata made up for it on a near daily basis. The short player described the event vividly, remembering how the setter’s intimidating face was almost enough for Hinata not to realize that suddenly his world was much more colorful.

Yamaguchi described his encounter like a breath of fresh air, a sudden rush of adrenaline that came with each and every color of the world. The sky was blue, the grass was green, and the seeing members of the team often joked that Hinata looked like a bright orange fruit.

You didn’t even know what orange looked like.

Soulmates were an interesting concept in that some people may live their whole lives never meeting them, wallowing in the black-and-white hues that they were born with. Some give up, disheartened over trying for so long to no avail. Your teammates were especially lucky to have met their soulmates, even more so to have met them at a young age.

Many of the members of the student body either didn’t care for this soulmate business or cared too much about it. Some were hunting almost constantly for any sign, while some expected the fact that they were going to have to travel far eventually when they were adults.

You tried not to think about it at all.

It was cute, hearing the stories of reunions and having someone who nearly completed you. But it was hard to imagine someone who was meant to be with you.

As much as you hated to admit it, you were quite popular among many in underclassmen. You were one of the infamous Oikawa Toru’s close friends and had the looks to rival his own. Many people had complimented the two of you in the past, asking if you were soulmates and saying that you would make a good couple based on looks alone.

It annoyed you how much fair skin and flowing locks were enough to blind people to who you really were. Your friendliness often got misconstrued for something else, many of these dumb boys digging for more than just the amicable smiles you were giving.

Tsukishima said the simplest solution was to shave your head, to which you almost killed him. And Yamaguchi said it was only natural since you were very pretty. Tanaka joked that the power of two beautiful managers would win them nationals alone.

And so, almost on a daily basis, you were rejecting boys' confession left and right. From the notes hidden in your locker, to the ones passed to you during class, to those who were brave enough to wait for you outside of the gymnasium - you rejected them all with careful smiles.

But that small amount that you gave, they reached for it hard.

Give an inch and they’ll take a mile.

Many hadn’t been deterred in the least, eager to try to make you fall in love with them despite having said you were not interested. It annoyed you to no end, being surrounded by flowery language and people who wanted to get close to you, but not for who you actually were. It was all looks and appearances, nothing more.

And you hated it.

There were times that you wondered if you should just take the lid off. 

Why stay cool and composed over people who hardly cared about how you felt?

Didn’t you just want to go batshit crazy one day?

Thankfully, your volleyball boys were also a big help in warding away others. Tanaka and Nishinoya were quite the pair in keeping people away from you during practice games, even when it wasn’t necessary.

((You remembered they first time seeing Akaashi’s cute face and begging to whatever volleyball god’s were out there that he was your soulmate. It was only a little disappointing to hear that he already had one. But seeing how cute the setter and Bokuto were, you figured they truly were meant to be.))

Tsukishima was a silent help, even if he did not admit it. His quick wit and salty words were more than enough to keep others at bay when he was around. Hinata, bless the poor boy, was much denser than you and often didn’t realize flirting until Kageyama had his tongue down his throat.

Karasuno was progressing all the way to Spring Nationals and you could not have been more proud of your boys. The team was built like pillars on-top of pillars, teamwork and hardened skill having sharpened all of them over the past year.

The first day of nationals, the team was mingling in the lobby among all the others that had progressed this far. It was almost intimidating, being surrounded by some of the strongest volleyball players your age in the entire country.

And, unfortunately, you weren’t free from leering eyes then.

Kageyama branched from the group to greet some of the friends he made during the training camp and Tanaka was off having a spiritual moment. You were scanning the room until suddenly you were just standing there alone.

It was the perfect opportunity to pounce and there was someone within your immediate personal space already asking for your name. You smiled at the sudden attention of one, two more people, attempting to back away before the group got any larger. Excusing yourself from them, you headed toward the wall to try to distance yourself and get your bearings.

Someone was already there, huddled in on himself in the corner and basically telling everyone to stay away. He had a mask covering most of his face and his hands were tucked in his zipped jacket, basically staying away from touching a single thing around him.

The moment you made eye-contact, it was almost like a flash of light.

You were looking at a bright mix of yellow and green, contrasted by his pale skin and pitch-black hair. It seemed he was just as surprised, bright eyes widened comically as he stared back at you.

It was more than just the school uniform - there was color everywhere.

From the tan of the walls to the gray tiles on the ground, you scanned the room and saw the different assortment of schools like you had never seen before. Bouncing around was a tuft of orange, Hinata eager to talk to members of other schools as he bounded around the room.

Orange.

You turned back to the reclusive young man and you realized the startling new fact.

Sakusa Kiyoomi was your soulmate.

One of the best spikers in the entire country and resident in Tokyo, hours from where you grew up, was your soulmate.

You knew all about him from the volleyball spreads to the front covers. Among the hundreds of other kids here, he was one of the top picks to watch in the entire nationals. Itachiyama was even one of the top seeds to win it all. It was crazy to think that he, this already highly decorated teen, was your destined other half.

If not for volleyball, would you have ever met?

“What’s your name?” His voice was barely above the crowd and you took a step closer to hear him proper.

You introduced yourself and thought about offering a hand for him to shake, just to realize that the germaphobe would probably never take it. And so, without a word, you rubbed a bit from your hand-sanitizer and then offered the appendage to him.

There was a hint of smirk behind the mask before he took it, muttering your name low on his lips.

He reached into one of his pockets and took out his phone, wordlessly waving it in the air for you to exchange chat ID’s. You recited the numbers back to him, adding each other to keep in contact. And while you both surely had questions, there were only a few minutes until the starting ceremonies.

“Karasuno?” He recounted, “Kageyama Tobio goes to your school.”

You wanted to groan, unsure what the setter’s reputation was like on the high-school level. You would defend your blueberry friend against his king of the court days, but with your soulmate, was that weird?

“Yes, we’re in the same year.”

“Ah.” Sakusa replied simply, his eyes still wordlessly on you.

Was he expecting a response?

“Your eyes are blue.” He commented bluntly, “They look different, nice.”

“Thanks?” You chuckled and responded lamely, “I don’t even know what blue means.”

You saw a small smile form beneath the mask, a crinkle in the corner of his eye. “I’ll show you, one day.”

“I look forward to it.”

There was something about his voice, low and throaty that had you desperately wanting to hear more for it. And while you enjoyed your little moment, there were a few alarms and shouts from the administration, it was time to line-up soon. You bowed curtly in thanks and turned to leave, waving at him as you left.

It was sort of… not what you had imagined?

Not that you were truly expecting anything. You were both still teens and at a competition, it was not like you were hoping to jump into your soulmate’s arms and get married into the sunset right away. But Sakusa was so curt, so blunt. So different from what you were used to.

It was refreshing.

Kiyoko took up the task of fetching Hinata’s shoes and, for once, you were the manager sitting alongside the coach courtside. You felt the reassurance and support from Karasuno’s cheering section, many familiar faces from your Shiratorizawa match. But, along with it, you felt the strange outpoor of pressure at having eyes on you.

More than once you were scanning the crowds to see people avert their eyes, caught in the act. How did the volleyball players deal with this? Each movement they had - receives, spikes, serves - it was heavily scrutinized by every person in the audience. Even more so on this level of competition, with commentators for live TV observing each match.

You saw some of your competition floating around, many sporting pensive looks and even notebooks as they observed Karasuno. Slapping your cheeks lightly, you steadied yourself to focus as you took your own notes on the team. Every successful jump server from Asahi, every spike from the other team’s ace, you had it all down.

And you were on the court, near jumping for joy with the rest, when Karasuno locked itself in as victorious in the first round.

Sakusa approached you after you were all done packing up, most of your team surprised at seeing the strong ace approach you so casually. Kageyama was the only one that was even his acquaintance, but he waved off an informal greeting as well.

You could tell immediately that he was not comfortable, tending to stick to himself normally. And yet here Sakusa was, approaching you when it was not expected of him at all.

“Congrats to your team.” He stated in a low voice.

“Thanks.” You said with a smile, watching as his eyes dropped to your shoulders then back up to your face. “Something wrong?”

He pursued his lips silently before moving to take off his outer jacket, “Here. Wear this during tomorrow’s game.”

Tomorrow's game with Inarizaki? You mentally wondered.

You didn’t question it, taking the jacket with a small grin and folding it in your hands. You still had your Karasuno jacket on and didn’t want to fumble around while the gorgeous ace was watching.

Of course, your team hadn’t caught on either.

“OH?!” Tanaka was immediately on the offensive, “And what claim do you have here city boy?”

You raised your palms to calm him down, an enraged Nishinoya not far behind him. Suga sighed in the corner, moving to grab them by the backs of their collars before they tried to throw hands with a nationally ranked spiker.

Before you could say anything, Sakusa explained with a flat face. “She’s my soulmate. Is it wrong for me to try to get closer to her?”

The reaction was immediate. You heard the, waaah!, from where Hinata was standing the sudden, excited gasp from Yamaguchi.

“Wow! Lucky you, (L/N)-chan.” Suga stated, a smile on his face as he regarded the both of you.

“When did this happen?” Daichi inquired after offering you both smiles.

“Before, when I got lost during the opening ceremony.”

“And you didn’t say anything!” Hinata exclaimed more than questioned.

“I didn’t want to distract you from the game.” You stated back, shrugging lightly.

Sakusa cleared his throat and you turned back to him, “I have to meet back with my team.”

“Okay, safe travels.” You said, earning a nod as he left.

“Wow, he’s so… different from you!” Hinata observed, trying not to be rude.

“He’s… nice to you.” Kagayama commented also, his head tilted and his eyebrows furrowed as if he was trying to find a better word to describe it. 

“That seemed pretty normal though?” Yamaguchi asked.

Kageyama immediately countered, “No, his normal is not like that.”

“He’s cute.” You responded lamely, thinking about his dark hair and matching eyes. 

He was quiet, but not to the point where you felt like he was purposefully closing you off. It was more like, if he had nothing to say, then he would not find the need to ramble on. Blunt with a purpose - which you honestly liked.

Meanwhile, Sakusa was hoping you took his words to heart and wore the jacket the entire next day. He had thought about his soulmate once or twice before, but never really dwelled on it since he had more important things to worry about. A soulmate was something he could not physically complete on his own, and while he hated leaving the issue half-assed, it is what it is.

But now that he knew who you were? 

Sakusa wanted to know you whole.

There was no denying it right at the onset - you were beautiful. If there were any other words - immaculate? Stunning? Absolutely show-stopping?

He had no expectations and yet here you were blowing them all out of the park, your beautiful looks only enhanced by how observant and friendly you had been at the onset.

It annoyed him that he was not the only one to have noticed this, many leering eyes following you as you went. Even more so when you were on the bench in the main stadium, many people in the stands around him remarked that Karasuno’s manager was insanely attractive.

No matter, you were his soulmate.

It only get worse when the rice-field asshole showed his face, Atsumu greeting Sakusa with the usual, Omi-Omi.

It seemed they were both interested in watching Kageyama play with his team. He was good during the training camp, but another thing entirely with the small spiker that completely their freak-duo.

But of fucking course Atsumu had to make a comment about you.

“And suddenly I’m lookin’ forward to playin’ them tomorrow.” The setter stated, eyes shooting to where you were sitting.

Sakusa had half the mind to put him in his place, but it would do no good. After all, the setter was an idiot, but actually liked to get on his nerves sometimes.

And so wearing his jacket should be more than enough to stake his claim.

Sakusa had a game the next day, but the bright hues of his yellow-green school colors were easy to pick out in the crowd. You were wearing it just like he asked, the jacket looking much too big on you.

But it was the smile on your face as you cheered on your team that made him want to smile back, even though he knew for a fact that you were not looking.

Baby steps, you would get there soon enough.

[luuurien]

beabadoobee - Beatopia

(Dream Pop, Alternative Rock, Noise Pop)

Named after the fictional world she dreamed up as a young kid, Beatopia is Bea Kristi's most dazzling and magical album to date. Channeling a childlike wonder through her writing and exploring new avenues of 90s alt-rock and 2000s radio pop, Beatopia's resonance and emotional depth makes for an absolutely flawless listen.

☆☆☆☆☆

In the awkward time in Bea Kristi's childhood moving from Iloilo City in the Philippines to London, she turned inward to escape from the anxiety and issues fitting into a white-majority school, creating a world of comfort with its own language, people, and landmarks named Beatopia, a safe place for her young mind to escape to when the stress of being an immigrant child in a city as sprawling as London was too much to bear. But after her drawings and stories were found by her teacher and classmates, she was readily mocked and outcast for the playful world she built for herself, Kristi abandoning Beatopia and spending much of her time as a kid being a lone wolf. But after embracing that angst and teenage toxicity on her rip-roaring 2020 debut Fake It Flowers, she felt like her time spent wallowing in depression and indulging in parties and drugs as a teenager were now behind her. "I was trying to be someone I’m not,” she said to GQ about her signature bright, box dyed hair in her early years as an artist, the fiery reds of Patched Up and electric blues of Space Cadet now traded in for her warm, natural black hair - a color she avoided as a teenager as she dealt with the struggles of existing as a Filipino woman living around strict, Eurocentric beauty standards. Now 22 years old and with a solid career as one of the big stars of the 2010s bedroom pop scene, she's looking to not only heal her inner child, but to move her music away from the sadness and anger that drove Fake It Flowers through the power of her lost world, Beatopia a colorful and charming collection of bubbly dream pop tunes that put self-acceptance and introspection above all else. For a sophomore album, it is incredibly singular and doesn't try to make Kristi be anything but herself. The album's singles established the different moods Krisi goes for throughout the album - Talk and 10:36 play out as bubblegum noise pop tunes that brings Fake It Flower's moody indie rock into the sun, See You Soon's Broken Social Scene-inspired psychedelic dream pop showed off the album's softer side, Lovesong is a delicate singer/songwriter cut - but the ways she expands upon those sounds across Beatopia's 14 makes for one of the most well-rounded and consistently fun albums this year. She branches out into sprightly R&B that sounds like Corinne Bailey Rae on a microdose of mushrooms on early highlight Sunny Day that brings out some of the warmest vocal harmonies and easygoing songwriting of her career, plays with a bossa nova groove on The Perfect Pair that wraps around elegant strings and a misty vocal performance as Kristi explores the feelings that come with hating someone for the things they do that remind you of yourself ("If I told you, you'd know how to / Go and break my heart in two"), she even brings a bit of a jangly alt-country kick to the hopeful mourning of Fairy Song that mixes beautifully with her noisy, angular guitars and dreamy atmospheres (it's also quite reminiscent of The 1975's The Birthday Party off their 2020 album Notes on a Conditional Form, not all that surprising considering Matt Healy's work with Kristi in the past and their shared signing to Dirty Hit). Just like the sprawling, beautiful mess that was her fictional world back in primary school, Beatopia's rich and diverse musical palette allows Kristi the ability to talk about feelings and bring out emotions that are brighter and less personal than the dark stories that outlined her debut. Sometimes, all you need to do is let loose and have some fun, and Beatopia's freedom does an incredible job getting Kristi's music to always feel effortless and heartwarming. She's also opened up more as a songwriter too, willing to be more playful with how things go and not trying to tighten the clamp on her emotions in the ways she has in the past. What that does is allow songs like Talk and Don't Get the Deal to come to life, explosive and thrilling noise pop songs where youthful abandon and sticky choruses take precedence over everything else, the latter track one of her best melodies and strongest songs ever with its glossy guitars and gleaming chorus. They keep Kristi's previous indie rock intact while giving it a new coat of paint with the better mindset that she's now in with Beatopia, and even some of the more out-there tracks, like the surreal Tinkerbell Is Overrated with modern drum 'n' bass princess PinkPantheress or breezy centerpiece Broken CD with its bubbling hand drums and contrast between Kristi's sensitive verses and head-high psychedelia in the chorus, still feel in line with Beatopia's commitment to sentimentality and thoughtfulness. The Healy-assisted ballad Pictures of Us sees his influences rubbing off quite a bit onto Kristi, the chorus of "She reminded me that "God" starts with a capital / But I don't think I could do / No, I don't think I could do it" quintessential Healy strangeness that works perfectly in the context of Beatopia, and the charming closer You're Here That's the Thing plays it fast and loose with lines like “When the lights go down don’t say I didn’t warn ya/I don’t think that’s legal in the state of California” or "And I'm not trying to give you a ring / Well, maybe on the phone if you let it sing," the kind of ultra-specific songwriting pulls the same tricks Healy has in the past on 1975 tracks like Sincerity Is Scary and The Ballad of Me and My Brain, but it still feels like Kristi at the helm because of how careful and delicate it all is compared to Healy's more impulsive tendencies. Beatopia's beauty comes solely from within Kristi's inner child, the simplicity of Lovesong and wondrous descriptions of loss and hopefulness over chamber strings on Ripples the beating heart of Beatopia that never stops for a second. What best encapsulates the magic of Beatopia, though, is the album's opening track Beatopia Cultsong. The perfect beginning to an album that introduces the world to the place Kristi created for herself as a child to escape from the world. There's bright, twinkling synths and fluttering guitars, angelic vocal harmonies like cotton candy clouds floating through a creamy blue sky. There's only one line Kristi, along with vocal layers from her boyfriend Soren, producer Jacob Budgen, and his girlfriend Molly throughout the song's two and a half minute runtime: "Is it me? / Or recently / Time is moving slowly?" It's the kind of short and simple question your younger cousin might ask you while you're out on a walk, half-grammatical yet full of conviction and heart, and it immediately establishes the freedom and childlike sense of wonder that defines Beatopia as an album. There's not a thing about Beatopia that's not deeply entrancing and emotionally resonant, Kristi now out of her sunken teenage years and ready to take on the world with positivity and might. Through the dreamlike joy of Beatopia, she delivers a flawless collection of songs that are so heartwarming and charismatic that it's impossible not to fall in love with it all. Let your inner child roam through Beatopia, and there's not a moment that goes by that isn't full of curiosity and marvel. It's absolutely perfect.

[grasslandgirl]

FALLING for you

It was an accident. Really. Katja was tall, and she’d always been more comfortable on horseback than on her own feet. So when a root sticking out of the ground caught on her boot while she was walking home from school with Ostentatia; it was an inevitability that Katja would trip. And take Ostentatia down with her. And somehow, through a feat of physics Katja didn’t understand, ended up sprawled on her back with Ostentatia on top of her- their faces mere inches apart.

Katja stared. Ostentatia stared back. Katja didn’t think about how she could smell Ostentatia’s strawberry lip gloss, the Love Spell perfume she reapplied at lunch, the oregano hair rinse her Nonna made her use every weekend. Ostentatia blinked down at Katja. Katja was sure she was bright red and probably smelled like the stables (the bad stables smell, like dirt and sweat and poop- not the good stables smell of fresh hay and Cinnamon’s special cinnamon-scented mane conditioner). 

Ostentatia sat up, rolling off of Katja and sitting down on the grass beside her. Katja closed her eyes for a moment, staying sprawled out on her back. Her stomach was one big knot and she could still feel Ostentatia watching her. Her knee was right next to Katja’s ribs, and if either of them moved even an inch, they would be touching. Katja opened her eyes again, looking up at the blue sky through the branches of the tree above her.

She sat up. Ostentatia was still staring at her, mouth pursed up tiny and determined. 

"I- I'm sorry-" Katja started to say.

Ostentatia shoved her hand out towards Katja's face, holding one finger in front of her face to silence her. "Don't say you're sorry." Ostentatia commanded, and Katja's mouth snapped shut. She tried very hard not to think about how close Ostentatia's hand was to her mouth. She tried not to think about how close Ostentatia’s mouth had been to hers a minute ago. This is just how Ostentatia, Katja told herself, she's loud and she's pushy and she goes into my personal space because she cares about me- like a friend. That's it. "Don't apologize to me," Ostentatia continued, scowling up at Katja. "You did not to anything wrong."

"But I-"

"No!" Ostentatia interrupted again, "I need to tell you something! And I'm going to say it!"   

Katja nodded, mute with worry. Ostentatia stood, unspeaking. Her eyes bored holes into Katja. Her jaw trembled, even as she glared, and Katja worried for a second that Ostentatia was about to cry.

Ostentatia crying was the third worst thing Katja could think of, after Cinnamon dying or her Dad being upset. Katja very pointedly did not think about the connecting factor between those three things. If Ostentatia started crying, than Katja was going to start crying too, and then Ostentatia would be upset she'd made Katja cry, and then Penny would appear out of nowhere- she had a weird sixth sense ability to tell whenever one of them was crying- and the weird moment would be broken.

Katja didn't think about how pretty Ostentatia still managed to look- even when she cried. Tears streaming down her face in clean lines, eyes sparkling even as she glared at someone or something, nose turning bright red. Katja always ended up with a lot of snot over her face, and that wasn't a good look for anyone but Cinnamon (who looked beautiful always and forever no matter the circumstances).

Katja wondered what was so important or so bad that Ostentatia couldn't bring herself to say it aloud- even to her. There were only a few things that Ostentatia struggled to say (that was one of the things Katja lo- liked the most about her; how Ostentatia wasn't ever afraid to say what she thought)- not like Katja, who still felt the most comfortable talking to Cinnamon.

"I'm going to say it." Ostentatia repeated, but it sounded more like she was saying it to herself this time, not to Katja. Her finger was still an inch away from Katja's lips. Katja still wasn't thinking about it. Ostentatia had really pretty hands, too: perfect nails with real gems on them, she and her mom had a regular appointment to get them done together every month. One time, Ostentatia invited Katja to go with them, but Katja didn't end up going- it's hard to set up horse tack with inch-long acrylics. (Even if Ostentatia said her nail tech could totally do a horse design if Katja wanted. Even though Ostentatia had taken Katja's hand in her own and told her she had nice nail beds. Even though Ostentatia's hands had been warm and gentle on hers.) Katja blinked. Ostentatia was scowling.

Back before they were The Maidens, back before they were friends, Katja had thought that Ostentatia's scowl was the scariest thing in the world (after the thought of Cinnamon getting hurt or dying, of course). But, Katja realized with a little bit of pride, she knew Ostentatia well enough now to know this wasn't her pissed-off-at-You scowl, this was her pissed-off-at-Me scowl.

"I'm gonna say it," Ostentatia said for the third time, almost murmuring it. Her perfectly-manicured eyebrows were low over her eyes, jaw set and determined.

"I love you," Ostentatia whispered.

Katja's heart fell out of her chest.

Ostentatia wasn't one who was afraid of telling people she loved them- she did it often, loudly, and with pride. But this was different. This wasn't how Ostentatia said it to the other maidens, or even how Katja had overheard her say it to her family. This was quiet, an intention behind the words that Katja was terrified to put a name to. 

Ostentatia huffed, blowing a small strand of hair out of her face. "I mean like- whatever, I love you. Like. Eugh-" she finally took her hand away from Katja's face, gesturing with both of her arms wildly- "Like love you, okay! Like, Zelda and her weirdo boyfriend, like Danielle and Antiope, like Sam and that fucking bitch Aelwyn. Like- like you. Okay??" Ostentatia's voice rose in pitch and volume as she talked, but behind all her bravado, Katja saw something she'd never seen in Ostentatia before- uncertainty.

Oh.

"Oh." She breathed, and like she was waiting for any response from Katja, Ostentatia froze- arms hanging in the air, mid-gesture.

"Oh?" Ostentatia echoed. Her voice was angry, but her eyes were still uncertain, even- afraid.

"I, uh, like- love you too." Katja mumbled. She'd read a lot of the romance-centric books in the Babysitter's Horse series (even written some stories of her own for some of them, but that wasn't here or there-) but nothing Katja had ever read could have prepared her for how hard it was to say it aloud. "Uh, I didn't know that- but you just- and I don't know how to. Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Uh. Did you want to-" Katja racked her brain for something cool or romantic to say. (In most of the Babysitter's Horse books, they went and got hay from the same trough together- or even sugar cubes in some of the later, teen editions- but Katja didn't think Ostentatia would want to do that.) "Get ice cream? From Basrars? With me? Just me- not the other girls? Or, I mean, if you wanted to invite them too we can if you want to, but I thought maybe we could-"

"Yes." Ostentatia was twisting one of her rings around her finger- a nervous tic- but she was smiling up at Katja. She had a really pretty smile, and it made something go mushy and warm in Katja's stomach to realize that it was her that was making Ostentatia smile like that. "Yes. Basrar's. A date."

"Oh. Okay. Cool." A date. 

"Okay," Ostentatia said definitively. She took Katja's hand in her own- warm, with callouses on her palm and cool metal rings on her fingers. "Let's go." Ostentatia tugged Katja to her feet. 

“Ostentatia?” Katja hated how her voice wavered, hated how even in this wonderful, important moment, she still shook with uncertainty. She turned, raised an imperious eyebrow; but there was still that warm smile on her mouth, her hand around Katja’s- and that was enough to bolster Katja’s courage. “I wanted to kiss you. Earlier. When we-” Katja felt like her face was on fire- “and also. Before then. A lot. So.” She grimaced, looking down at Ostentatia’s warm hand still tight around hers. “Sorry, I’m not good at this.”

“Katja.” Ostentatia took a step closer. Katja could see her pristine Fantasy Uggs in the grass. “Look at me.” How was Katja supposed to ignore that? She did, tugging her gaze away from their interwoven fingers. Ostentatia’s smile was a blinding, burning thing, spread across her face. Katja had heard her talk about her god’s Holy Forge before- how it had burned impossibly hot for centuries, how no mere mortal could look upon it without Logran’s blessing or their face would get burned off- Katja thought that’s what Ostentatia’s smile looked like. So beautiful she was scared she would go blind from the force of it. “You’re good at this. You’re good at a lot of stuff. Don’t shit talk my girlfriend like that.”

“Girlfriend-?” Katja squeaked. 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.” 

“And for the record? I thought about kissing you, too.” Ostentatia tipped her head, huffing as though she’d just won an argument. Katja beamed. “So there. Can we go get ice cream and make out now?”

“Ye- yeah. Yes. Let’s go.” Katja held Ostentatia’s hand the whole way to Basrar’s- and she didn’t trip once.

[neovisioned]

♡ꜜ profane﹫jaehyun jung

profane - ashe vernon

pairing : jaehyun x reader (f)

genre : smut with little plot, fallen angel!jaehyun, best friends to lovers. 

warnings : actual filth, dry humping, passionate eating out, penetration (unprotected, be safe), body worship, slight begging and corruption, overstimulation, jaehyun’s wings are sensitive, creampie. 

word count : 3k exactly.

synopsis : fallen angel Jaehyun confesses to the one who saved him the night he fell from heaven five years ago, he shows you exactly how much he meant his words when he called you holy or : “ God, if you’re out there, if you’re listening, he fucks like a seraphim,”

“The first time he calls you holy, you laugh it back so hard your sides hurt.”

Jaehyun never even tried to hide his awe for your beauty, since the day of his fall. From the night you found him in the middle of the street, right after a rainy summer day, he never did. You were in your last year of high school, a teenager finding a bloodied, half clothed man on the hard concrete. You thought you were hallucinating, victim of one big, elaborated prank. You remember observing him for minutes, until he turned his scared face towards the noise of your boots cracking a dead branch. Oh, his face. Even in pain, even crying from the damnation he just faced, he looked ethereal. Correction, he was ethereal. A fallen angel, lost in this cruel, cruel world. Bloodied wings, sculpted body draped with a white sheet, trembling chestnut eyes. Big, white wings wrapped around himself in an attempt to protect his remaining dignity. Your heart dropped when he planted his eyes in yours. Jaehyun wondered if you were an angel of death here to finish the job, he never knew they were this pretty. Jaehyun remembers asking himself if he felt right to another kind of heaven he didn’t know about when you walked carefully towards him, pale moonlight enlightening your worried features. The first human face he’d see and yet, he'd bet you were crafted in his late home.

“You’re divine.”, was the first thing the fallen angel had told you. Ah, how he managed to get you even more intrigued with three words. You recall him not backing away from you when you kneeled in front of the man, offering a hand. He looked the same age, a deer caught in the bright lights of a truck. You’d hate yourself for leaving him here.

The red tint on his soft feathers stay imprinted in your mind, even after five years.

You never thought you’d be one to take an angel under your wing. But here you were, helping the fallen learn about life on the blue planet, one he never thought he’d live on himself. After all, the brunette never even formed the idea before, being dropped out of heaven was never on option for God’s old favorite. Years, and Jaehyun never stopped being dazed by your features. You even wondered where he’d get his compliments, always sounding like an old poet gushing over his best muse. Lovely, charming, delightful, ravishing, gorgeous, heavenly, stunning, artistic, magnificent. The list goes on. You quickly wondered if he wasn’t going too far, if he wasn’t too attached after you saved him, mind twisted by an illusion he created for himself. He saw what you couldn’t see in you. Words you never heard any man call another woman before, they all have the same effect on you. The feeling of heat pooling to your cheeks gets too familiar when you’re with Jaehyun. It’s to a point where his name only manages to burn your skin. However, the day the now almost normal man calls you “holy”, you don’t know how to react. His head rests on your stomach, strong arms wrapped around your body. You remember how frail they looked the night you met him. No matter the time flying by, the people he met, the number throwing themselves at him, Jaehyun never stopped looking at you like you held stars in your irises. Puppy dog eyes for what you then think is just equal, a puppy love.   “You’re holy.”, he had breathed against your skin, a small smile blooming on his face at your reaction. The weight of his head on you makes it heard to laugh and hard to breath properly, your sides hurt as you giggle in an attempt to brush it off. Thankfully, Jaehyun’s used to your off reactions to his words. He might even like it a bit too much. Even, it takes years for you to understand that Jaehyun’s isn’t just victim of a dumb infatuation. He means every word he says, he knows more than anyone else the meaning behind them all. It’s quite ironic. You think Jaehyun’s the one who needs to open his eyes but, when you do, you understand something bigger. Jaehyun isn’t as innocent as you thought he was. The ability to hide his wings and your presence guiding him had him walking on his Earth like any other human being, slowly becoming like every other young man of his age.

“The second time, you moan gospel around his fingers between your teeth. He has always surprised you into surprising yourself.”

The second time he calls you “holy”, your reaction is much, much different from any other. The slight salty taste of his fingertips lingers on your tongue, pink muscle lazily lapping against his skin. The fallen angel has two digits resting there, thumb lovingly stroking the skin of your check. Coating them with saliva, the muscle drags between ever so slowly. Hungry eyes catch every one of your reactions, drinking in the smallest of sighs and broken bat of the eyelashes for memories to cherish. It seems every important turn in your relationship with the fallen angel happens in summer, he even told you about how it was his favorite out of the four seasons. An anniversary of your meeting with the brunette turns confession of shared feelings between an improvised meal. He grew. He grew so much all thanks to you and yet, there he is. Body towering over you, using his power against you, the dynamic shifted long ago. His hips fits perfectly between your thighs, the blue jeans he’s wearing aren’t doing anything to hide his hardening member, longing to be touched. You wonder where he learned all of this, when he learned all of this. His hips roll against your clothed core in the most heavily way, it’s slow and hard, intentions clear. “You’re holy, doll.”, Jaehyun breathes again, watching your cheek heat up, your eyes roll back. You never heard this voice before, it dips lower, stained by years of want. “Crafted by the highest.” You moan around his fingers, teeth grazing over the tender skin. Jaehyun was never afraid to push you out of your comfort zone, there he was doing it again. You never thought you’d let your beloved angel sin with your help.

“Because he’s an angel hiding his halo behind his back and nothing has ever felt so filthy as plucking the wings from his shoulders - undressing his softness one feather at a time.”

Oh, how well he hides his halo. There’s no light in his eyes, no light in his voice when he asks you to undress. You wonder if he still has some powers with how easily you bend to his order, underwear adoring your skin. His jeans follow close behind. He got bigger with years, stronger, confident. One thing he doesn’t get rid of, his wings. He could, he could hide them like he does every day now, but he know how much they affect you. You’ve told him many times, never ran more than a light and careful hands on the majestic wings. Pure, white feathers create the perfect cocoon between your tangled bodies like he wants you to himself and him only. You don’t think he ever lost one single feather, never losing their pristine with time.

His hips never stop rolling against yours, now fully hard cock rubbing against your damp underwear. His grey boxers aren’t doing anything to hide his member anymore, one that makes your mouth water, eyes blow in need. One hand travels from his arm to the soft feather of his wing, bold fingers softly gazing over the small spaces between his plumes.

The surprised moan that tumbles from his lips takes your breath away, such a simple gesture that makes him keen under your touch. “Fuck.”, how can a curse sound so pure ? His finger leave your mouth to grip the pillow right next to your head. “Do that again.”

“God, if you’re out there, if you’re listening, he fucks like a seraphim, and there’s no part of scripture that ever prepared you for his hands. Hand that map a communion in the cradle of your hips.”

“Shit, Jaehyun.” Nothing would have prepared you for the way his hips start moving to a faster pace. He has you moaning a bouquet of curses against his lips, hips bucking up against his. You know Jaehyun learns quickly, you see it when you tell him just how you like it and he obliges happily, hips rolling harder, and harder. The dark spot on his boxers’ a dead giveaway of your arousal building up, and up. His hands start wondering up your body, shamelessly sneaking under your bra. He maps your curves, learns by heart about the holy temple of your envelope. “Feels good ?” Another hand tightly grips your hip, fingers digging at your flesh, sure to leave small bruises there. He pushes your pelvis down against his mattress, until you aren’t able to create friction from your own. The fallen angel brings you to the border in minutes, he builds your orgasm up until you’re breathing against his bruised lips. He makes you jump with him and makes sure he has you all along, he holds you close when you ruin your underwear. Your orgasm blinds you for milliseconds, you probably moan too loudly for your neighbors but, right here and right now, it’s him. Jaehyun might come the very moment his name rolls out of your tongue, the prettiest prayer he ever had the chance to hear and, it was for him, him only.

“Hands that kiss hymns up your sides. He confesses how long he’s looked for a place to worship and, oh,”

“’ve been waiting for so long.”, the brunette confesses against the skin of your stomach. He places soft kisses there, like he wants you to see how much he worships your body. “Thought you’d never let me have a taste.”. There is the slightest bit of amusement in his voice when he kisses along the line of your ruined panties, a single digit teasingly running up and down your lips. He makes you shiver, sigh his name out and say his name in vain. You’d almost beg him to do it already, taste you already.

“Jaehyun, I-.”, you’d almost beg him, and oh.

Pink tongue boldly dips in your core, through the wet fabric. He hums at the slight taste of your arousal, like he cannot believe he’s finally there. His red lips form an -o where he knows your bud of never is, lightly sucking there. Where the fuck did he learn all of this. Oh, the sweet angel will be the death of you if you aren’t his.

“you put him on his knees. When he sinks to the floor and moans like he can’t help himself, you wonder if the other angels feel so sweet.”

Long gone are the years of blindness, years of pushing feelings away out of fear. A hand rests on his shoulder and you push him to his knees, he obliges easily under your touch. Knees to the floor, his knees hit the cold wood of his bedroom. Digits finally wrap around the fabric of your panties and finally. Finally, you reveal yourself to the fallen angel. Transparent fluid stick to your lips and the ruined piece of clothing, Jaehyun moans to himself like he’s been touched by grace.

Glittering eyes look up to you for reassurance and, when he has it, he doesn’t hesitate. Pushing your thighs apart, his eyes stay on your core like the finest of paintings, placing your legs on his strong shoulders. He waited and wanted too long to make the teasing last longer and, much like he did through the piece of fabric, his pink tongue drags up your slit. He collects every drop your give him in the dip of his muscle, he hums at the taste and goes for more. The tip digs between your lips and laps like he’s drinking the rarest of wines, like he’s drinking from the grail itself.

“Taste so fucking good.”, he hums to himself, lips shining with your own arousal. “Can’t get enough.”

You wonder if all angels are so good with their tongues, or maybe it’s the added effect Jaehyun has on you. He brings you to the clouds in what you feel like is seconds.

“He says his prayers between your thighs and you dig your heels into the base of his spine until he blushes the color of your filthy tongue. You will ruin him and he will thank you; he will say please.”

The words he mumbles against your core are foreign to you, your dazed, blurred mind doesn’t quite catch the meaning behind his sounds. However, his deep voice vibrates against your lips. It’s so much, too much. You’re almost too sensitive already from the first orgasm he got out of you. Your body reacts by itself when he lets his muscle explore between your lips a little more, a sigh tumbling from your lips. Your thighs close around his head until your heels dig between his wings, it makes the man moan and break away from your core. Your hand can only anchor itself between his brown locks, slightly tugging at his hair.

He’s breathless, a deep pink dust on his cheeks and chest alongside a thin sheet of sweat. Jaehyun looks so innocent and yet, so filthy, corrupted. When his lips methodically wraps around your button of nerves, you know you’re done for. “Jaehyun, Jae-. ‘m so close, gonna come.”, you warn, words turning incoherent at some point. Ah, Jaehyun loves the way your voice breaks for him, direct result of his actions. It fills his chest with pride and makes his wings bat the slightest bit around him.

“Please.”, he begs, and you have to look down at him to register the word. “Please Y/N, come on my tongue.”, he says again, fingers wrapping around your thighs. How can you say no to such plea ? Jaehyun might be the happiest fallen angel when he feels your thighs shaking around him, tightening around his head as you come for the second time that night. You might black out, the ringing in your ears doesn’t stop you from hearing the brunette’s greedy tongue lapping at your core, small kisses on your thighs. “Thank you.”

“No damnation ever looked as cozy as this, but you fit over his hips like they were made for you. You fit, you fit, you fit. On top of him, you are an ancient god that only he remembers and he offers up his skin. And you take it. Who knew sacrifice was so profane ?”

Fucked out, yet there’s no way you’re going to let Jaehyun like this. Your legs threaten to give out under your body when you sit on the fallen angel’s lap. Your abused core tightens around the head of his length, the slight pain of the stretch adds to the stained moan you let out against Jaehyun’s neck. He fits and he’s no one moaning about how you were made for him. Long gone are the pleas to make you come when he groans and growls about your tight cunt.

You take him, you take him entirely with a whine and fully sit on his thighs. You don’t think you ever felt so full in your entire life, you don’t think you ever felt this way before. His wings wrap around your bodies again, it seems like an old habit. He creates a world for you to rule in, he lets you take control and set the pace.

His moans are for your ears only when you finally start moving up, and down. Up, and down. Jaehyun’s arms wrap tightly around your waist, bringing your body impossibly close to his. His chest crashes against your own, lips bruising yours for the nth time that night. You fit, he won’t let you go. He fits, you grip around him. Jaehyun might just think you look like a goddess at this very moment, skin glowing under the light, wrapped around him, wrapped in him. He wonders if you aren’t just that, a goddess erased from the books, a goddess too powerful and threatening. Jaehyun might just think you’re Lilith. His head rolls back against the headboard of his bed, he unknowingly presents the skin of his pale neck and you take it. You take him, you mark him as yours. Red and purple petals bloom on his chest, marks he'd proudly parade.

“And once you’ve taught him how to hold your throat in one hand and your heart in the other, you will have forgotten every other word, except his name.”

The way his pupils grow wider the moment you bring his hand to your throat is almost comical. You teach him how to use his fingers and press on your neck, cut your breathing just the right way. Just enough to have you desperately clenching around his cock.

“I love you.”, you finally confess to him that night, words he thought he’d never hear at some point. There, the fallen angel has you in the palm of his hand, heartbeat pumping against his fingertips. There, Jaehyun gets his revenge on heaven. When he starts fucking up, sending your body crashing against his own, limp, he might fuck you even harder then. There, in the dead of the night, years after meeting him on the dot, his name is the only thing tumbling from his lips. Oh, what a pleasure to bring a goddess to this state, fucked out and babbling, shamelessly letting herself being used and filled. The fallen angel never thought he’d feed off someone’s tears but, when he hears you cry out for the third time that night, tear rolling down his neck, he comes.

© NEOVISIONED l NO REPOSTING OR TRANSLATIONS ALLOWED.

[pen-observing]

I finished my fic with this theme and I did the brothers reacting to this. So how could I, an undatables enthusiast, not make this? It took a while but it’s here. Some brain cells were involved in the making of this post,,,, I guess?

MASTERLIST

How the undatables react/pursue you after Diavolo cheats on you while married

Diavolo:

Why is he here? Well you see-- why not

In the human world some believe that the ultimate proof of love is giving the cheater another chance, fighting to salvage a relationship

In all honesty, Diavolo never expects that from you, nor does he hope such a thing can happen

He curses himself for a momentary weakness. A prince, a ruler, so easily swayed and influence does not carry any nobility or respect

He may be the most influential, the most powerful- but he starts seeing himself as weak

He hides away from his thoughts in work, in new holidays, in friendships and partnerships and in excuses

He tries not to give those thoughts space to grow

But, the damage has been done

Diavolo’s worst enemy and worst critic, the one who judges him the most is himself

He knows that with this one deed (some may call it a momentary lapse in judgement) he has undone all the work it took years to build

He knows that falling into temptation is the biggest mistake he has ever made; especially because he cannot bear to have you hate him when he loves you so much

Diavolo has no guts to admit that after what he did, he believes he has no right to claim it face-to-face

So, he randomly visits Lucifer to see you, ask about you. He tasks Barbatos with keeping you safe. Little Ds are ordered to make your life easier without being noticed

Because of what happened, he doubts that he deserves the place and title of a King

And, you notice that the most- in the smiles, in the speeches, in the doubt and guilt that radiates off from him

The only way to salvage this and get back together lies with you. If you, after so much time can forgive but not forget. If you can wish to grow into a union once more.  

He goes along with your wish for divorce just as quickly as he goes for your wish of reconciliation.  

He does not force you, he respects whatever you decide.

Barbatos:

Probably the one which would provide the most material for gossip and speculation, in theory

In practice, it’s like a 500k slow burn romance

Here is why; Barbatos is a man of duty and loyalty to the person that hurt you. He finds no amusement in being the center of gossip nor does he wish for you to go through the dirt. Devildom is such a cruel place, you cannot even imagine what could come your way if the relationship was established early on.

Besides, it is even hard for you to not have Barbatos remind you of Diavolo once the relationship first breaks

Babratos gives you time to heal and move on before he does anything which can show his romantic interest

He knows how charming you are, he knows your habits and he knows that he must be patient before a true connection can be established

So, how does it happen? Well, after healing from Diavolo you naturally, through fate or the wonder of time, need to spend some time in the same circle

Obligations, work and friendships bring you together in a weird way

The balls and parties are something you must attend and because Barbatos knows you, he knows just what you like

The perfect place for you to sit which is neither too warm nor too hot, a place far away from people you do not like in their world but close enough so that you do not miss anything important or fun. For some reason, it always smells like your favorite scent too

The perfect place, the perfect tea, the delicious food with small hidden notes which do not give away his intention but do show his affection  

It just grows more and more unbearable  

The lingering stares, the short but warm goodbyes, the way his hands just brush against yours for a moment longer than usual when he takes your coat

It creates a magical attraction inside that long game, which, as expected, Barbatos is better at than you

You try to find him alone and, in those moments; inside the kitchen or under the stairs while everyone is far away dancing, it becomes just the world of you two

His tone is warmer, he is more direct. You sometimes, inside such short pauses, are able to exchange warmth. In conversations, in the longing looks, in the way his hand holds yours. In the way he gently takes your wrist, puts his hand on the small of your back to guide you back inside a world which is overabundant in fancy but doesn’t feel meaningful without him in it

Sometimes, it can even hold a soft kiss

But, it becomes torture. Enough is enough. His privacy starts to seem like secrecy to you for all the wrong reasons. As a human, you aren’t patient enough to wait 4 years until something, anything happens  

So, you seek him out at the next party. They’re too rare in your opinion now. You seek him out and find him on the stairs as he goes to complete another task.

Bravery or foolishness, it does not matter which of the two makes you stop him. Makes you ask him; when? When will this secrecy end?

In reality, it doesn’t really matter. He would probably kabedon you on the stairs (as a true gentleman! don’t get it twisted!)

He holds time itself in his hands and yet you asked him.  

He whispers: “All in good time, my love. All in good time.”  

And leaves you like that.

So, what is the good time?  

It is already the point where you forgot about Diavolo but; has Diavolo forgotten about you?

That is what Barbatos waits for. He sees no need to ask his lord such a thing. Diavolo notices it himself. How could he not? Diavolo also knows that he does not love you anymore.

So, the next time Diavolo comes to the kitchen and sees your favorite tea (the one he never drinks) he gives Barbatos the permission, the freedom to go pursue you.  

After all, it is time.

Simeon:

The most empathic out of everyone.  

The best choice even

Why? With him, you would only feel compassion and care.

Gentleness.  

There is no drama that could follow you when you turn to him.

He has not sworn loyalty to Diavolo. He is not his partner. He lives in a completely different realm.  

It is really the exact change that you need. At first, it seems so odd because you are used to a completely different world but; it is comfort. It is care. It is everything that helps you heal

In truth, Simeon’s instinct gravitates towards that. It gravitates towards making sure that you heal in all aspects. Physically, emotionally- most importantly- your soul should shine like it used to

After you start that process it brings long conversations where you two ponder over what it means to live and love. You discuss theories and opinions. Simeon has loved longer than you, he has seen countless love stories- he even wrote some.

This process can even inspire him to flesh out a new character

In actuality, Simeon warned both Diavolo and you with masqueraded words about what marriage truly means before you got married

So now, he doesn’t say ‘I told you so’ or ‘Why didn’t you listen to me’. He just hopes that you won’t grow to hate the whole institution and tradition that marriage is

And honestly? Simeon shows you unrequited love so, how could you ever think that with him?

Here, you will be the first to realize your emotions and you will probably need to act on them first as well

Solomon:

He is somewhere in the human world, inside a secret room of an abandoned castle just thinking of new spells when he gets a text from Asmo about what happened

Dramatic as fuck gasp while his potion drops to the floor and now the floor is pink

Solomon, with all the years that he has been alive, with all the pacts and mistakes he has made- still is more human than the rest of them

This does not mean that he will be the best at comforting you but he already packed the most important things to go and see you. Is that not enough to show immediate care?

Instead of comforting you by himself he spends time in the House of Lamantation, working with the rest of the brothers  

Time has passed, you both have changed so it takes a bit for him to get familiar with you again and to work out your habits

Probably tries to joke like: “Even if that red tree branch offered me to make a pact with him I would refuse for your sake.”

It shows that, despite all the flaws and morally gray actions, he stands on your side- not his

But, life inside that house has to move on. He can’t really stay calm and tied down to it for months and as he is preparing for his next trip- he asks you to go with him

It is a true change of pace. You will experience new things you never dreamed of. He can teach you magic. He can show you places in the human world full of it

He promises to make sure that you are safe

So you set off with him

It is a grand adventure. It holds both comfort and new things that only make you grow.  

It holds his teasing as well but he never lets anything bad happen to you

He realizes his affections before you but you are so busy taking in the world’s wonders that he keeps them a secret for just a while longer because you are so excited. Your eyes shine and he just knows you have new stories to remember and uncover at the same time

You don’t realize yours until Solomon makes it clear to you, in a sly way.

You stand outside of enchanted ruins. The sky is bright blue with pink lines. Solomon says: “And who would have thought that one of the most powerful witches got cheated on by the man who allegedly enchanted this ruin when he was young? Hmm?~”

And really, who would? You realize then how that did not even cross your mind. How could it? Here you are with Solomon on another adventure that sparked more love as the sky dances for your new story.

Luke:

Has it been years since you got married? Yes

Has Luke grown to love demons? Absolutely not. Are you kidding me?

He throws his little hat to the ground when he finds out

Never trust their kind.  That's what he says

Sure Diavolo had a noble goal once but after this? Once Luke’s good opinion is lost it is lost forever

Baby is very dramatic about the whole thing

How dare that evil creature hurt you? Luke was teary eyed at your wedding and he is teary eyed the next time he sees you  

But

He tries his best. He really does.

He doesn’t have wisdom like Simeon. But he asks him for advice.  

Best believe the only way Diavolo will taste one of his treats again is if Luke yeets it in his face 

Firstly, tumblr better fix their tags because it is unbearable! Now you may ask; yooo why is Barbatos’ so long? Cus thats my boo and he is the main reason I decided to write these reactions in general

[tea-with-veth]

SBI wing AU? Perhaps a some hurt with a sprinkle of comfort?

Well, I don’t have a story, but I do have a lot of brain rot. Prepare to discover that while y’all watched Disney I grew up on nature documentaries and Wild Kratts. 

I really did set out to make a wing AU but now it’s kind of “sleepy bois as birds,” so sorry about that. 

Philza has wings like an albatross. A wingspan that reaches across the sky, larger than anyone else’s. Wings, perfect for soaring, wings that wrap around his children in a feathery hug. Enormous wings, grey above and white beneath, that allow him to fly a year without rest. But Philza does rest, because, like an albatross, he always comes home to his family. He’ll go far, and he’ll see things no one else has seen, and do things no one else has done, and he’ll come back every time. His boys will look up as the shadow of those enormous wings pass over them, and smile because he’s home. 

Wilbur is an owl at heart, a barred owl to be precise. his curly brown hair the same shade as soft brown wings, striped with white. He can fly, so silently that none of his siblings hear him coming, but Wilbur prefers to perch, up high on some branch, his guitar in hand, a song drifting down through the trees, his voice sweet and mellow. 

Bouncing with enthusiasm and noise, and more confident than he has any right being, Tommy is a bluejay, with wings of flashy blue white and grey. He’s not the majestic flier his brothers can be, but he matches them with confidence, and while Wilbur and Philza soar, he circles, somehow keeping up with frantic energy. Yes, Tommy’s a pest, but in the best of ways, and he’ll fight just about anything and anyone, and more shockingly, he may very well win.

Peregrine falcons are fast, and so is Technoblade. Dappled wings, arrow-sharp, take him high into the sky, where he can stare down at the world below. And then he stoops, barreling downwards like a streak of lightning, pink hair flying behind, leaving the world a blur of wind and color. When Technoblade strikes, it’s with precision and intent, a living rapier, purpose in every movement.

 He’s a different creature than his brothers, but that’s no surprise. It’s an oddball family, all so different. They all share something undefinable though, a bond that goes beyond blood and feathers. They’re not birds of a feather, but family doesn’t need to be. Sometimes being a family is simply calling the same place home. And sometimes home simply means being together. 

[libraford]

We interrupt the feral celebration of ousting an oligarch to bring you a story about Yeehaw and his Branch of Mystery.

  It has been a while since we last had some co-worker drama, but man- has it been a weird summer. I mean... we all had a weird summer in 2020, but I don't think I was really expecting this particular... flavor of weird?

 This is a story about Yeehaw, but it starts off with a story about Aggie.

 Aggie was someone we were excited to hire and part of our excitement was that it's rare to find someone with prior floral experience and we'd concluded at this point that it does no one any good to be picky about new hires in the middle of a pandemic. So finding someone who knew the difference between a carnation and a rose was a big deal for us.

 I say that in jest, but saying that we do 'on-the-job training' means that we've had to explain that yes- the flower in my hand that looks like a carnation is a carnation and not some other flower that looks like carnation but is not a carnation. Floristry is a very straightforward practice and for the most part a rose is a rose and a daisy is a daisy and if someone asks for those things, you give it to them.

 The hard part is, as always, making them look good together.

 Which is why we were pleased with Aggie- who previously did weddings for her friends and seemed to have a basic understanding of how to do things with her hands. We were happy to have her aboard.

 ... until you gave her criticism.

 She made her vases embarrassingly short, and if you tried to tell her how to fix it, she'd snap back with "I'm not DONE yet."

 She was done until you said something.

 If you gave her an order for two dozen white roses, she would take it upon herself to mix white and yellow roses together 'because it looks better.'

 It did not.

 Hashtag: #selftaught

 When a client asks for all white roses, there is likely a reason they asked for all white. Given that 90% of our work is funerals, it stands to reason that they are asking for all white because that is a traditional color for mourning. Working with a client means doing exactly what they asked for. Doing a wedding for your friends may get you high praise from people who trust you to work in the same aesthetic as them, but in a shop setting you are being paid to follow things to the letter. Doing so shows that you can follow directions, and they may come back next time.

 You don't know customer entitlement until you've been torn another asshole for leaving out a single rose.

 This seemed to never occur to her, and so criticism was a painful realization that perhaps she wasn't perfect at an art that was exceptionally susceptible to criticism. There were plenty of opportunities to make something in her own aesthetic, it wasn't like she was being stifled. There was a considerable amount of downtime where she filled the front cooler with her own creations- enigmatically giving each of them their own names like "Autumn Walk" or "First Snowfall." (This is not something that we do, on the whole.)

 Not very many of those sold.

 But I think what bugged me the most is that she only ever designed. She didn't take out the trash, she didn't answer phones, she never helped customers. She just... did flowers. Nothing else.

 Oh... and the chatter.

 "Do you travel? Oh, you simply MUST go to Bali sometime! You've never been to Asia? Well, there's nothing like achieving inner peace at a Buddhist temple on a mountaintop in Nepal. They have temples here in Ohio, but it's nothing like the real thing! You say you've never even been off the continent? Well, what are you waiting for? You only live once, you know!"

 Ma'am... we're in the middle of a pandemic. Ma'am... I only get paid so much...

 While trying to relate, I talked about my summer in Montana and she gave me the BIGGEST stank-face. "Montana? Ew, WHY?"

 Look, lady- I lived on a mountaintop next to an active, world-destroying volcano system. If that's not cool, I don't know what is.

 But thankfully, she only worked on weekends. See, this was her fun job. The job she does to stay social during a pandemic and flex her creative muscles while she makes money at her much more lucrative,but boring,HR job. So I only had to see her twice a month when I was manager on duty.

 Then she got fired from her weekday job and went full-time at the flower shop. Poor thing wasn't used to waking up at 7am every day. She was full of suggestions.

 "I think it would be easier for me if we only opened at like... 11am."

"Don't you think we should be taking proper photos of our work? All we would need is a nice camera and a soft lighting setup. Couldn't be much more than $1000."

"Oh I know! We should be doing inventory on tablets instead of writing things down!"

 Okay, you go buy those things then. It took her about a week of making those suggestions to realize that she wasn't real clear on how things worked around here and stopped. She became quiet, less enthusiastic about her 'fun' job now that she wasn't immediately the star of the show.

 Enter Yeehaw.

 We were excited about Yeehaw, too. He didn't just have experience with flowers- he had experience with a flower shop. He gave a good interview, he seemed like he knew what he was doing and was very passionate about flowers. He was definitely an entire hippie, but about 1/3 of all plant people are. Most importantly, we still had like three spots to fill left from our pre-Covid staff.

 Hired.

 There was an overlap of about a week where Aggie and Yeehaw worked at the same time. His work was... immaculate. Just... astonishingly beautiful work. You didn't even have to show him how to make anything. He just... knew.

 Well, Aggie didn't  like that much- we had only nice things to say about this new guy but all she ever got was criticism. And if we complimented him on something he made, he would give a little 'namaste' bow. And I could see her fuming with rage each time he did this.

 One day, she rushed into the back to take a phone call and any time someone went back there for a vase she would lower her voice as if keeping a deep secret. Twenty minutes later, she called Grandpa into the back as well to discuss something. Ten minutes later, Aggie left the building with her Live, Laugh, Love bag, looking pissed.

 "Where did Aggie go," I asked Grandpa.

 "She got a new job," she said. "Doing HR somewhere."

 "She didn't even say good-bye," Blue said, appearing unsurprised.

 And so we went on with out lives without really putting much further thought into Aggie, apart from the occasional 'you simply MUST visit Bali' line thrown in for bougie emphasis.

 Which brings us to the next part of the story, and that is Yeehaw.

 There are some details to know about Yeehaw that are kind of difficult to fit into a story neatly. Here is a brief list that may come in handy to know later.

-He lives with his mother.

-He drives a Tesla.

-He can afford the Tesla because he was in a terrible wreck that had him hospitalized, and a lawsuit was won.

-Because of this, he has two screws in his head at the temples.

-Unrelated, he has hair that goes all the way down to his back.

- And...

 "Grandpa, we need to tell you something," Blue said. "In private."

 Blue and Kali pulled Grandpa aside while Yeehaw slowly put together a funeral order. "Grandpa, there's no polite way to put this: Yeehaw is drunk as fuck."

 "He smells like whiskey," Kali said.

 "He's stumbling everywhere."

 "And he won't stop... burping."

 Grandpa paused. "There's something I need to tell you," she said, and she reached for a manila folder. "Yeehaw has something called... what's it called..." She leafed through the file and produced a paper, reading from it. "Auto-brewery Syndrome. His body actually produces alcohol anytime he eats bread or sugar. If he's drunk, it's because he can't help it."

 We each had a chance to go over the doctor's note, verifying that yes- that sure does look official. Everyone had questions, but it did answer the one I had about why he was sitting in the break room literally drinking peanut butter from the jar.

 So that was incredibly interesting and we no longer asked about the burping or why he was so slow.  

 However, the fact that he was so slow was extremely frustrating. Our average number of orders runs approximately 100 per-day. This can be eased somewhat when we have a full-staff with five designers- an average of 20 designs per person in an 8-hour day, 3 per hour.

 But it's a fine line some days, and if one person cannot keep up it turns into a struggle for all of us.  

 We did our best to accommodate. We gave him all the day-ahead orders so that we wouldn't be behind and he'd have all the time he'd need to make his gorgeous pieces.

 We were willing to make it work.

 A number of factors came into play one day, but most notably: Yeehaw's Tesla wouldn't start and he had to take the bus. So he was late.

 I think I saw him make one entire item in the two hours that we were in the same room. He went to lunch around 12:30, I took mine around 1:00. I saw him stumble back in from lunch, looking... out of it. Just... absolutely incomprehensible- mumbling, barely upright, his hair out of the bun, quite possibly sleepwalking- who knows?

 I saw him for that brief Sasquatch moment... and that was the last that I saw him that day. It was around 4:00 that  Grandpa asked the question:

 "Where's Yeehaw?"

 And no one had an answer. We all had places that we thought we'd seen him: cleaning the cooler, in the break room, heading to the bathroom... but no one had really... seen him since he stumbled back in around 1:30.

 We checked all these places.

 None of them.

 The person who actually managed to find him was Sarge, who noticed his feet sticking out from behind the bushes behind the building.

 "Huh," he said, presumably. He gave the feet a light kick and Yeehaw slowly sat back up. "Hey dude. You... okay, there? They're lookin' for you inside."

 Yeehaw mumbled something to Sarge and got to his feet, stumbling back into the shop without further interaction. He appeared into the workspace, holding a branch in front of his face for mysterious reasons. There were still twigs entangled in his long hair.

 "Where were you at," Grandpa asked, concerned.

 "Oh, I was in the bathroom," he lied from behind the branch of mystery. "I'm pretty tired. Is it okay if I go home?"

 Bewildered, Grandpa gave him permission to leave. It was soon after he left that Scout found his phone in the empty sink. "Who's trying to wash their phone," he asked in the loud manner that is characteristic of old white men. It rang while in his hand and one of our designers snatched it from him. It was his mother.

 "Hello," said the designer. "Yeehaw went home early, but he left his phone behind. Can you bring it home to him?" Mom agreed, she was just over at Trader Joe's anyhow.

 We thought, of course, that we were doing something smart and nice. Yeehaw's mom looks just about what you would expect the mother of a 30-year-old hippie that drives a Tesla to look. Grandpa, in a polite way, explained that he'd fallen asleep in a bush. To which Mom seemed neither surprised nor concerned about his behavior.

 "Okay. I'll be at Hallmark."

 Somewhere between the bus stop and Bexley, Yeehaw must have realized that his phone was not with him and so he came back looking for it. Despite his mother being literally in the same strip mall as we were, he seemed irritated that we'd taken the initiative to make sure his phone got to him.

 "Well, I bet if you just went down to Hallmark she'd give you your phone and probably give you a ride home."

 He mumbled something and then left.

 This seems like a decent place to pause, because him leaving the second time in the day should be the end of the story. However... at 5:00 in the evening there was still two hours left in the work day and from past experience... that is plenty of time for a lot of things to happen.

 The thing to happen was a phone call.

 "Hi, this is Jade from the main store. We've gotten... some... interesting phone calls. Is there... a... hmm... is there a dead body out in front of your store?"

 Pause.

 "We'll take care of it, bye."

 Who wants to be the one to poke the cadaver on the sidewalk? A volunteer from the audience! Ms Crowe: won't you come down?!

 I have had it planted firmly in my mind that Crowe certainly understands the concept of fear but does not recognize it. Apart from being one of our most reliable drivers, she is also a performer, a street medic, an activist, and most notably... a fire-breather.

 You have your hobbies.

 Point is- she's brave enough to check to see if the person laying on the sidewalk was dead or simply overdosed.

 As it turns out, it was Yeehaw- curled up in the fetal position with his arm covering his face.

 "Hey," Crowe said, poking him with her foot. "Heeeeeeey," she said again but more firmly this time. He moved, blinking in the evening the sun. "Buddy, you can't be laying around on the sidewalk. You gotta move on."

 Again, he slowly got to his feet. At this time, his mother emerged from Hallmark to see him talking with Crowe. A group of four people escorted him into Mom's car while he stopped every few feet to perform another 'namaste' bow.

 You think this is the end. But what have we learned?

 There's always more.

 He came in the next day as if none of this had happened. Conversation was difficult because we both desperately needed to know what the fuck happened and also did not want to trigger something. So we didn't bring it up. He apologized for leaving early: chronic fatigue syndrome, you know.

 Other places would have fired him, but we're a very forgiving workplace. Falling asleep on company time is not, in any way, the worst thing that someone has done at this location while still keeping their job. There was Sugar and her drugs, there was the dude that used the company van to pick up prostitutes (this was before my time), there was the guy that screamed at customers over the phone... it's a long list.

 The primary concern of our employers is whether or not you are a reliable person. If you routinely show up for your job and do the work, you're going to be okay at least for a little bit. And Yeehaw, for all his impeccable fuckery, at least showed up every day.

 We kept this at the back of our minds.

 One day, after the Day We Found Him In a Bush was behind us, one of the designers mentioned that they'd seen where Aggie works now. It was not in HR.

 It was our major competitor.

 Now, Grandpa knows this competitor well. She knows all her competition. It is the nature of a lot of florists to, once they've gotten sick of one place, move on to the next one and spill the beans on their operations there. So Grandpa gets the dirt on everyone.

 This particular shop was very regimented. You don't wing it- you follow the recipe as listed. He's been known to pick discarded flowers up off the floor and tell you exactly how much  money you're costing the company by letting it fall, to the cent. If you get so far as to make casket sprays, he will take your first one and chuck it across the room if it even looks like the stems are in there too loosely.

 This is what I mean about us being an easy place to work.

 Hashtag: #ohfuck.

 People come in and out of your life like that, in little ways. Sometimes you just have to have a little laugh at it. But what I thought was funny was that she felt the need to keep her new employer a secret, as though we would get jealous or tattle. Curious thing.

 Now that the glamour of Yeehaw's arrangements had worn off, we were starting to see more and more odd behaviors that didn't seem completely related to drunkenness.

 "Did you just fart?"

 "No, that was a spider barking."

 Amazing.

 Conversation with him was becoming... difficult. As I sat in the break room with my quick lunch and he drank soup out of a mayonnaise jar, he mentioned his area of study in college.

 "Cognitive Psychology and Hindu Philosophy, huh? That's an interesting combination."

 "Yeah," he said, funneling an amount of squash soup down his throat. "It'll take the rest of the world about 100 years before they catch up to where I am."

 I sat, posed in front of my beef and broccoli which I was eating with a fork, trying to process a logical reason why the rest of the world will be sleeping in a bush in one hundred years. "Uh... huh."

 This was followed by another thirty minutes of silence where I desperately wanted to know what he meant by that but didn't want to be the one to ask him.

 People will tell you that a hippie is generally an ineffective, benign kind of person who chants 'love love, peace peace' in a circle and consider that to be an action for change. But I can say with absolute certainty that I have met some downright egotistical hippies in my life. Those were lessons in bias- which I will have to save for other times.

 Eventually, Grandpa became frustrated with his slowness. We presumed that his speed of choice was a combination of his meticulous nature and his various ailments, but with the Christmas season coming upon us it was becoming much more than a series of symptoms.

 Previous persons who lacked speed were chatty, would play on their phone, or get distracted. But Yeehaw... Yeehaw simply moved like a tranquilized sloth. He slowly picked off each leaf, each thorn, each guard petal and took a minute for each action. He would put in his greens and then contemplate it powerfully for ten minutes before putting any flowers in... slowly.

 In the time spent doing this, I had already made something of a similar size and was starting on the second one.

 It was during one of these times that Grandpa finally said something.

 "Yeehaw, that spray is due in thirty minutes. Is there a way you can go any faster?"

 He looked up from his greens, held one carnation to his face, and said:

 "If you wanted me to move faster, you would pay me better."

 Let me start by saying that we do not get paid well. We don't. Compared to other flower shops in our city, we are probably the lowest-paid. This is something that the company is starting to work on with benefits and raises, but any amount of change takes time. (And its still better paying than when I worked in retail. But that's another book.)

 Yeehaw had been here for exactly one month. I don't know a single workplace that gives you a raise after one month and still lets you sleep on the clock without firing you. He knew what he was getting paid when we hired him.

 So anyways, he slowly grinds down our nerves to a very fine dust- burping, farting, falling asleep on his feet, staring intensely into space, talking about how much he should be making but isn't, bragging about his enlightenment, and generally just slowing down production.

 And then Grandpa had her well-earned vacation week. Blue was in charge for the most part and the week leading up to Halloween is generally pretty slow, so it was a good week for her to have a break with few mishaps.

 Eh... hehe. Yeah.

 Yeehaw... disappeared again. We checked the cooler, we checked the break room, we checked the bushes out back, we checked the sidewalk out front.

 He was in the bathroom.

 So we left it.

 He was still in the bathroom an hour later.

 We had one of the male drivers pound on the door to check on him. When Yeehaw opened the door to the men's room, there was a wad of toilet paper on the floor that he'd been using as a pillow.

 If I may pause here to explain- our men's room is disgusting. I have deep cleaned it several times only for it to become a germ-fest once more in a matter of hours. I don't ask who is peeing all over the floor because, honestly, I have no desire to know what grown man can't aim his willy in the right direction.

 So in order to fall asleep in the bathroom, you have to be willing to sleep in pee. During a pandemic.

 He reappeared in the workroom, put his apron back on, looked around at all of us still working and said: "Wow, it must be really hard to get fired here."

 It was at this point that Blue informed Grandpa.

 "Tell him that he's fired," Grandpa said, clearly 1001% done with this.

 "I'm not going to fire him," Blue said. "I don't think I can fire anyone."

 So she had the driver that found him do it, which was confusing for all of us. He ended up calling Grandpa to clarify. And by 'clarify,' I definitely mean 'beg for his job back.' A synopsis of the 20 minute phone call went like this:

 "What do you mean, I'm fired?"

 "Just that. You're fired. I'm tired of it, Yeehaw. You don't work here anymore."

 "Why?"

 "What do you mean 'why?' You spend all day making a total of three arrangements and then you wander off somewhere and fall asleep."

 "I can't help it if I have chronic fatigue syndrome!"

 "This is a physical job. If your body can't handle an 8-hour shift without falling asleep for two hours, this isn't the job for you. Tell me: where is that fair to the girls that you do 3% of the work while they pick up the slack and you wander off to sleep on the clock?"

 "I simply do not care about them."

 "You don't care that you're shoving all the work on your coworkers, and that's why you're fired."

 "I wish you'd given me a warning."

 "Tell me, Yeehaw: how many employers can you find that will allow you to sleep on the clock for two hours and let you off with a warning?"

 End of discussion.

 Now, you're probably wondering where Aggie comes back into this. Just hold tight, I'll get there.

 The Sunday after he was fired, he came in to pick up his paycheck. I was busy handling a minor emergency where one of our funeral homes forgot to order a spray and I had to make one as fast as I could. We held a brief conversation while I made the spray in a hurry.

 "I'm here to pick up my check," he said while I greened the spray and leafed through the paychecks simultaneously.

 "Here you go," I said, handing it to him without much fanfare. I presumed that he was looking for sympathy or some kind of followup or... I don't know. Sorry you suddenly care about your job?

 "So what are your next plans," one of the designers asked, trying to coax more information out of him while I did the work of three people.

 "It's kind of funny," he said slowly... as he did all things. "I've only ever been fired from flower shops." He paused, thoughtfully. "I think I'm going to go apply to the shop in Bexley that Aggie went to."

[quietlyimplode]

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist of Fic Recs - Version 2.0 - Page 1

Page 1 / Page 2 / Page 3 / Page 4 / Page 5

Updated June 2021

This is not an exhaustive list (and in no order whatsoever) of the brilliant fic that is out there. Please let me know of any i have missed or any recs to put in and I will endeavour to add it. I have not included warnings or ratings. Please make sure you look at the tags, judge for yourself and as always take care of yourself first. (17 authors under the cut)

The Irish Mayhem @the-irish-mayhem

White - part of Perfection of Duality Series - the making of Natasha Romanoff. One of my favourite fics in the world. I will love it forever.  -    25/25

Perfection of Duality- part two - Natasha - Natasha in shield - 4/?

Mypedia @sebuttstianstan

anything that bleeds - Natasha - Natasha is a sub. Don’t let that fool you, Natasha’s backstory with bdsm elements. 21/22

Shadesfalcon @shadesfalcon

Like Real People Do - Clint/Nat - ‘Do we have song?’ Iterations of what’s the ties that bind them together.    1/1

Whether you ask it or not - Clint/Nat - Natasha gets poisoned - and has the line ‘“’Night, little dragon. May your fires ever burn hot upon your unsuspecting foes.”    1/1

Sometimes winning means you’re the last one standing - ot6+everyone - don’t play ‘never have I ever’ without some laughs and trauma rearing its head   1/1

I am good - Clint/Nat/Laura - Clint brings Natasha home for the first time.   1/1

Careful She Bites - Clint/Nat - don’t confront Natasha about the handcuffs. Just don’t.  2/2

What happens here stays here - Clint/Nat- Natasha can’t remember Budapest.  1/1

Koren M- cybermathwitch

I’d Make Room for you - Clint/Nat/Laura - perspectives of each other are important. 1/1

Course Corrections - Clint/Nat/Laura - taking care of each other 2/2 snippets into conversations/life Course Corrections (Age of Ultron Fix-It Fic)

As if you have a choice - Clint/Nat - Natasha gets pregnant. They know they can’t keep it. 3/3

The weight of us - series of 11 - my fav is ‘Seeing Red’ and ‘Sharp and Sweet’. Clint/Nat shield days

Red Flag Warning - Natasha - red is a warning colour. Clint should know.   1/1

Edgeofthegalaxy @natasha-romanoff-deserved-better

buried in your bones, i see it in your closed eyes - Natasha dissociates and its a long way back Clint/Nat 1/1

Origins - Young Natasha in the red room, of learning morality and goodness. 1/1

But even the strong can fall - Natasha goes silent on a mission, Clint knows something is very wrong. Clint/Nat 2/2

Just a Kid - sometimes Natasha doesn’t realise how messed up her childhood was. Sometimes she needs to be told. Nat/team 1/1

Collateral Damage - Natasha comes home from a mission; Tony needs to patch her up. Tony & Nat 1/1

Daughter of Rohan @natrasharomanova

Living Louder - Clint/Nat - break my heart. Origin stories.   21/21

Beside you (sequel to living louder) - Clint/Nat - shield falls. Clint and Nat find each other in the aftermath.

It’s still raining - Clint/Nat - everything happens when it’s raining.  1/1

You are a piece of me, I wish I didn’t need. Clint/Nat/Laura/family. Clint brings Nat to the farm for the first time. Healing ensues.   1/1

Impossibilities- Clint/Nat but with Pepper/Maria/Darcy and Jane - Natasha is pregnant?   1/1

Wake my spirit Cold - Clint/Nat - Christmas throughout the years -    1/1

(We could be) infinite - Clint/Nat - ENDGAME FIX IT. The soul stone split in two. No one dies.    1/1

I am not the only traveler who has not repaid his debt - Clint/Nat - ENDGAME FIX IT. Natasha dies but is alive in a multiverse. Clint dies in the alternate. They meet in the middle.     1/1

Sugarfey @sugarfey

Chrysalis - Natasha - this is how it goes and how she came to be.  Ashes series  1/3

A walk on part in the war. Natasha - Drakovs daughter is ‘saved’.  Ashes.  2/3

World on Fire - Clint (/Natasha) Clint has a history and can play the guitar.  Ashes   3/3 - my favourite part.

First Name Basis- Clint/Nat - getting to know you.    1/1

Right where I used to be - Clint/Nat - it’s Natasha’s birthday, Clint uses this to get to know her better.    1/1

Once was lost - Clint/Nat - slow burn, Natasha offers herself to him once.    1/1

Expresso is not an option - Nat/Maria - ‘you could destroy shield in a heartbeat, couldn’t you?’

Thursdays Child - Nat/fury - fury mentors Natasha-from afar.    1/1

Shelter - Clint/Nat/liho/lucky - Lucky puts one big paw on Natasha’s knee and looks at her as though she hung the sky with pizza -   1/1

Almost home - Natasha - find a mooring and settles -    1/1

Long spaces 3/3 - Natasha/Clint - natasha and Clint fit together - all the broken pieces. .  3/3

Inkvoices - @inkvoices

Smile for the living - POST ENDGAME - Natasha is brought back.     1/1

In deed- Clint/Bucky/Nat. In which dogs and deeds are discussed.    1/1

Driver chooses the music. Clint/Nat - get in the car.

On Names - Clint/Nat- she goes by many names -  1/1

AlwaysLera

Fallout Patterns - what happens when your mind is a nuclear bomb? Nat/Clint - sex is not always sex when trauma is as deep as hers -   14/14

Breathe me with your hands - Clint/Nat - navigating sex -  1/2 One Red Thread Series- Nats pov.

Hold you by the edges - 2/2 One Red Thread - Clint’s pov.

Ghosts that we knew - Clint/Nat - aftermath of the avengers. Natasha navigating the world when Clint safewords out. 15/?? Unfinished.

How the day sounds - Clint/Nat - thanksgiving throughout the years -     14/15 (?fluffy)

You were a kindness - Clint/Nat - a perfect look at the trauma of being brought in. Let herself be nothing but a branch. Let herself be nothing but stardust. Stardust could not be hurt. Stardust could not be used. Stardust could not be held.    1/1

Crashing, understanding, blinding, tumbling - Nat/Tony - plane crashes - tony takes care of Natasha whilst blinded -    1/1

Two plus two is five - Clint/Nat - how do you test a concussion? Two plus two is five in large quantities of two.   1/1

Into the dark (song fic) - team after harrowing mission watch Clint and Natasha dance - 1/1

The ocean carry you home - team- pepper is pregnant, Natasha doesn’t cope well with the news. Yellow blue bus.    1/1

Enigma731 @enigma731

Something just like this - Clint/Nat - Clint is depressed. Natasha doesn’t know how to help.    1/1

Going to the Chapel. Clint/Nat - get married in Budapest and have sex.

September - Tony/Nat bonding - Tony makes a memory machine to cure ptsd, Natasha helps.   1/1

Everything Costs - Clint/Nat- Natasha keeps getting hurt on missions, Clint wants to know why.  1/1

That’s way you showed me (I wasn’t quite so alone) - Clint/Nat - 3 christmas’ -    1/1

Prompts (some lovely short 1 shorts) - team assorted -   13/?

It starts with Time - Natasha - Natasha goes looking for her family -   1/1

The war I can’t win - Natasha/Clint - Clint gets injured. Natasha is his support.  1/1 (it mentions Occupational Therapy this is a winner)

We are not shining stars - Natasha/Laura + Clint - Clint dies (fair warning) it’s all Natasha can do to cope.    1/1

Unpack your heart - Clint/Nat - in the beginning they left post it notes -   1/1

Hearts and Bones and Blood - Natasha/Clint - Clint saves Natasha from mental health services when she first comes to shield. Because sometimes she gets lost in her own head.

What Girls are Made of - Nat/team - 5x Natasha has unconventional means of flying.    1/1

Ghost Towns - Clint/Nat - Natasha has memories implanted in her head, shield medical and Clint try to help.   1/1

The glass parade - Steve /Natasha - he watches her become different people.  1/1

Slipsthrufingers

Cleanliness Is Next To… - Nat/Clint- Or Five Memorable Showers Clint Barton and Natasha Have Had, and One Time There Was a Bath Instead. -  1/1

The more you know - Clint/Nat - this is what they learn first (or Natasha is not what is written in her file) -  1/1

Perspectives - Nat/team - perspective and interpretations; what do you see?

OracleGlass

safe as houses - Clint/Nat - what makes them go to a nonshield safehouse?

The clutch of circumstance - Clint/Nat- he helps her start. 1/1

Ranni

Voluntary Procedure - Clint and Natasha agree to be mind wiped. The others are not happy - Clint/Nat/Team 6/6

Stronghold - Natasha and Clint shut down their various safehouse. Clint/Nat (team) 1/1

Spy Vs Spy (recced by Anon) - Clint & Coulson & Natasha - Natasha Romanov was the most beautiful person in the room and nobody asked her to dance. 2/2

Paperairplanesopenwindows @paperairplanesopenwindows

On the first day of Christmas - Clint/Nat/Laura- Laura wants to celebrate, Clint and Nat aren’t so sure - 1/1

A little to the left - Clint/Nat/Laura - she’s Natasha but a little to the left (POST ENDGAME) -   4/4

Family Togetherness Time - Clint/Nat/Laura - Steve gets concerned about Nat and turns to the people he thinks can help. 3/3

Eauline

In every lifetime I choose you - Nat/Steve - Natasha gets captured to get to Steve. 11/11

MillyVeil

Burn baby, burn. Clint/Nat - Clint saves Natasha from heatstroke. 1/1

Teamwork - Clint/Nat - fuck or die, Clint’s not ok but Natasha is. He doesn’t understand. -   2/2

Other people - Clint/Nat- she’s up for some monkey sex until she’s not.    2/2

altheterrible @altheterrible

Shining white in the sun - Natasha - Clint dies, Natasha tries to cope. She doesn’t do it very well. 7/7

tastes - team - different tastes in points in time - 1/1

strix_alba

places to go, people to be- Natasha - Natasha gets to decide who she really is after the fall of shield 1/1

[teacup-crow]

Maybe, Maybe, Maybe

Fun bit of survivors’ guilt for @badthingshappenbingo, based pretty heavily off Don’t Poke the Bear and Variations on a Theme. Post-finale.

They take it in turns to keep watch for when he wakes up: Doug, Reneé, Isabel, first names still such a novelty. Just his luck, he opens his eyes to the impassive face of Captain Lovelace.

“Hi, dickbag. Sore head?”

“Unnnnhh…” he whines as if he’s lying under a ton of rocks rather than a cosy quilt on Renee’s living room floor. His face is a patchwork of bruising. “Aspirin?”

She takes pity, and passes him two and a glass of water. The sitting up takes longer than he thought it would.

“You look terrible. Lucky for you, Renee makes a mean chilli con carne. Never would have guessed she could cook.”

“No thanks, I should, should be going-”

“You need food in your system, that’s non-negotiable. First thing’s first, though, you’re having a shower, and you either go willingly or get dragged bodily, because you goddamn stink. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” he mumbles automatically, and he remembers the Colonel - Warren? Was it on a day he could call him Warren? - once saying something similar and his head pounds. ((“mr jacobi, of all the irresponsible, stupid shit i have seen from you this really takes the-“))

“Bathroom’s on the second floor, just past the master bedroom. Dominick put a pile of clean clothes in there before he left for work. And it’s Isabel, okay? Not sir. Not Captain. Never again.”

***

“Who did this to you?��

He grips his mug of sweet tea like it’s thousand dollar whiskey. He’s still ashen. “I did this to me.”

“You beat the shit out of yourself? Okay, yeah. Don’t buy that one.” Isabel repeats the question. “Who did this to you?”

“Just some guys I pissed off. I don’t know how many. I don’t know who. Happy now?”

The room goes silent. Isabel continues:

“And did you go provoking them deliberately?”

Not for the first time, Renee wonders whether they should have included Doug in this little intervention. He’s been through so much just like the rest of them, but he doesn’t know it, and he’s clearly freaking out at the situation.

“Why would he want something like that to happen? He looks terrible!”

“I don’t know, Doug,” Isabel says levelly. “Care to answer, Jacobi?”

He’s not on a first name basis, apparently.

“Not… I didn’t... no. No, no, no. I was too drunk and… picking fights, but suddenly there were too many of them, okay? But I got out. And if I want to drink then that’s my own problem, so thank you for the hospitality but-“

Renee cuts in there. “When you drink yourself into a stupor, get attacked by a gang in a back alley, and stumble into my doorway at 0300 hours after six months of radio silence, it becomes our problem.” Her look of pity makes his stomach churn even more than the chilli did. He breathes in, hold, out; in, hold, out; in-((alana’s breathing technique and why why why is she everywhere in everything why does he have to see her out of the corner of his eye when it’s been so long he can’t properly remember her face-))

“Fine. What do you want from me?”

“You are a good man and you saved every single one of our lives and we need to understand why you’re so intent on throwing yours away.”

Jacobi starts laughing then, guttural laughs that worsen the ache in his head and bones but he can’t seem to stop them. “...me? I’m a good man? Oh my God, Lieutenant, that’s hilarious. Give us another.”

“You need to take this seriously! This is a form of self harm! You could have died!” Isabel is pacing up and down. She and Renee do good cop, bad cop like it’s a professional sport.

“Boo fucking hoo. And the world would forever be worse off for my passing.”

Isabel stops, and turns back towards him with some heat in her gaze. “I have lost too many crew members who deserved to die far less than you do. Okay? Is that what you want to hear? Do you need me to reconfirm that you are a an asshole? Do you need to hear about how Fisher, and Hui, and Fourier, and Lambert were all far better people than you will ever, ever be? Or will you accept that you are good in there? That deep down you’re on the right-“

“We burned their letters.” He’s staring at the duvet he’s wrapped in, running his finger over the flowers on the pattern. “Okay? Still think I’m a good person?”

“...wait. What?” She laughs a little, in shock perhaps. “But you told me…”

“I told you what I needed to tell you to make you trust me. We burned your crew’s letters. Lambert’s… I remember those especially. His hands were shaking really hard when he wrote them, weren’t they.”

It’s not a question.

Isabel stops pacing, and Jacobi grins again but it doesn’t reach his bruised eyes when he looks up at her. “More than mine, even. You could tell he was sick. They didn’t make any sense. We laughed at them. The irony of a Communications Officer who can’t communicate. Are you listening to me? We read their letters and we burned them and we laughed about it-“

Renee loses her softness. “Jacobi, that is enough!”

Isabel has a hand on her chest as if something has hit her there. She counts to ten in her head, ((fisher’s technique to try and stop her fighting with sam, never worked but still stuck in her head, or this copy of her head, or whoever she is now-)) and leaves the room.

They hear her slamming drawers in the kitchen.

Doug glances at Jacobi and shakes his head, before hurrying after her.

“How could you,” Reneé says. “How could you.”

“I don’t know. Will you let me go and ruin my own life now?”

“Never,” she replies. “Because, God help me, you’re still a member of my crew.”

At that, his eyes prick with tears he can’t explain. He rolls over on the air bed, and closes them.

***

“Lovelace?” Jacobi finally makes himself walk into the kitchen, grimacing like each step is on hot sand. The words are monotone. “I’m so sorry. What I did and said is... inexcusable.”

“Nope. That’s too large a word for your vocabulary. Come back to me with an apology Renée didn’t script,” Isabel snaps, going back to scribbling in a sketchbook.

“Look, I’m not much good at this-“

“You’re telling me.”

“I’m… really used to people yelling at me and hitting me until they feel better. Or you can shoot me if you like!”

“Jesus. Well, I am not about to do that to ease your guilt. You look like you’d snap if one more person poked you. So apologise properly.”

“I’m sorry…”

“For?” Isabel prompts over the top of her book.

“I’m sorry for burning your crew’s letters.”

“You did what you were ordered to do. It is what it is. I’m not condoning it.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Jacobi realises she’s waiting for him to continue. “And… I’m sorry for bringing it up. That was… needlessly cruel. It sucked.”

“It really did,” she replies, putting the book down. “Tell you what: that sounded somewhat genuine, and Goddard brought out the shit in all of us. You look so pathetic, I’m going to forgive you. Not because you deserve it, but because I don’t bear grudges. Not anymore.”

She holds out a hand, and he shakes it. “Thank you.”

“Wow. That actually hurt for you to say.”

Jacobi nods. He sits down across from her at Renée’s huge darkwood table, and thinks about how she and Dominick must have bought this when they moved in together with plans to have people over for dinner every other night. Maybe even plans to have kids.

He wonders if Dominick ate at it alone while his wife was gone.

“So, you gone on that holiday yet?”

“No, actually. I’ve legally been dead for about seven years, so getting a passport is proving pretty tricky.”

“I can imagine.”

“Where have you been, anyway? We tried to get into contact with you. We drove down to your old apartment - got your address from the Goddard database - but it was cleaned out.”

Jacobi looks sheepish. “Yeah, well, I’d mostly been staying at Alana’s for the last few years or overnight at… yeah… so I’d not been a very good tenant and turns out they took ‘lost in space’ as the perfect opportunity to kick me out. So I’ve been sofa to sofa, on the streets a bit-”

“For heaven’s sake, Jacobi. We would have helped you, you stupid asshole! All you had to do was ask and you could have stayed here! Renee and Dominick would probably even let you have a cheese collection or whatever the fuck it was.”

“Guess the amount of drinks it takes for me to lose my pride is somewhere over eighteen?”

“How do you have a functioning liver?”

They sit in an almost comfortable silence for a few minutes, Isabel reopening her sketchbook.

“I never knew you drew.”

“You never knew me outside of a life-threatening situation.” Isabel sighs, twists the pencil between her fingers. “I don’t think I did. Before. The old ‘me’, I mean. But I was bored and I can’t get a job because of the ‘being dead’ issue, so I thought I should take up a hobby or something. Might be therapeutic. I’m not very good at it…”

“Can I see?”

“I, uh,” Isabel suddenly looks uncertain. “I drew her. Maxwell. I drew everyone, actually. Are you sure you want to look?”

“Yes.”

He leafs through the pages, at first simple doodles before branching into full portraits. Eiffel, upside down and smoking a cigarette. Hilbert, looking troubled at a shadow behind him he can’t quite see. Two ghostlike figures in lab coats staring out at the star, the man with a prophetic terror etched on his face - must be Isabel’s old crewmates. Mr Cutter smiles up at him with far too many sharp teeth in sharper lines where the pencil was pressed far too hard and he turns the page quickly. There’s Kepler, mid-whiskey speech and it almost stops his heart. He pauses. Maxwell.

In the picture, her eyes are shining as she stares at Hera’s console, fingers nothing more than a blur - the three-day stint she spent trying to get the AI online. Aside from the orange and blue of Wolf 359, elsewhere in the book Isabel has barely used colour, but here the room is bathed in a serene green light from the screens. Behind Maxwell, Jacobi sees himself, little more than a stocky, sketchy outline, waiting for her to finish.

He looks so proud of her.

He looks so… content.

After staring for a long moment, Jacobi closes the book and hands it back. “Thank you.”

“You can keep the pictures of them, if you like,” Isabel offers, but he doesn’t know whether he would like, so he says:

“Tell me about your crew.”

“What?”

“Your old crew. Tell me about them. Was Lambert the one staring at...?”

“No. No. No, that was Kuan Hui, our senior astrophysicist. He was whipsmart and funny and fearless, until the time Goddard Futuristics played around in his brain, stretched out his perception of time. He was completely alone in the dark for two weeks. His smile never really reached his eyes after that.”

Jacobi sips tea awkwardly, even though it’s cold.

“Something like that, it stays with you. At least he had Fourier, though.”

“That’s the woman behind him?”

“Junior physicist. Victoire Fourier had eyes like stars. Cleverest person I’ve ever met. She played six instruments, spoke four languages and she had the most gentle soul. She used to read to Hui when he got sick with Decima. Coughed up every organ in his body. I thought it would break her, but she was made of stern stuff. She vanished off the space station in the final days and I still don’t know what exactly happened to her-”

“I… do. If you want to know, I mean.”

Isabel shakes her head. Then pauses. Then shakes her head again. “I get the feeling whoever is to blame is long gone.”

Jacobi shrugs. “Who else?”

“Well, there was Mace Fisher. Fisher… Fisher died because of me, not Goddard Futuristics. Asteroid shower tore him from my hands. He had a boyfriend waiting at home. He was sensitive, sensible, grounding. A real older brother type. I- I didn’t deal particularly well with his death. Well, you know that much.”

((Pill popper!)) Jacobi gulps more cold tea.

“And Lambert?”

“Sam Lambert. Officer Samuel Lambert had a stick up his ass. He was whiny, and authoritarian, and he treasured his copy of Pryce and Carter more than Reneé and Kepler combined did. He drove me nearly insane, and I drove him likewise. The best second in command you could ask for. A damn good man. Sam got sick after Hui, so we knew what was coming. What it meant. He was brave, though. At first.”

((“C-Captain, please shoot me, please, it hurts, it hurts, Captain, please, I just want it to-”)

She falters.

“Lovelace?”

“Yup?”

“You know, it’s not even really about the Hephaestus. I keep… it’s insane, but I keep thinking about… I was an explosives guy for the Air Force. Before Goddard. A trigger failed and two men died. Andrews and Sullivan. I haven’t thought about them in years and suddenly-“

“They’re everywhere?”

There’s a sudden understanding between them.

“They’re everywhere. Them and Maxwell and Kepler. They’re in mirrors, in the back of my brain, around corners.”

“Flashes of them.”

“And if you just reach out far enough, maybe-“

“Maybe-“

“Maybe.”

((let’s go be monsters)), Jacobi’s brain echoes. He grits his teeth.

“Did it stop for you? When does it stop?” He finds himself asking. Isabel doesn’t answer.

[jimlingss]

Foreverland

➜ Words: 15.2k

➜ Genres: 95% Fluff, 5% Angst, Peter Pan!AU

➜ Summary: Just because you're nineteen doesn't mean you aren't still a CHILD! So why does everyone want you to grow up so badly?! Is it so wrong to not want to work? To get married?! And for heaven's sake, you'll wed anyone but boring Namjoon! Little do you know, a certain fairy boy's about to grant your wish and whisk you far away from this nightmare.

cr.

You flip the page of the storybook.   It sits on your lap, the two covers spread over your thighs, the page corners crisp against your fingertips. The colours seem to jump out at you — raspberry, periwinkle and kelly vibrant against the white. And you’re completely enthralled with the adventurous storyline, studying the sentences before your eyes follow the illustration of the garden gnome climbing the mountain.   “Y/N!”    A sharp shriek interrupts your concentration and you look to the house porch. Your mother has her hands on her hips, apron tied around her waist and ladle in hand. “Heavens to Betsy! What did I say about climbing trees again! Are you tryin’ to break your neck?! Get down here this instant, young lady!”   You sigh, jumping down from the thick branch much to her horror. But your landings are always perfect. This spot’s perfect. You don’t know why she has such a bone to pick with your favourite reading place.   Not only was the tree branch comfortable, but you got the biggest and brightest view of the grassy field and can feel the wind whisking through your hair. Not like she’d understand.   She never liked heights.   “Look at yourself,” your mother chastises and starts to brush off the skirt of your dress. “You got so dirty. You can’t be looking like this when Namjoon’s coming by.”   “Again?” Your exaggerated exhale gains the lift of her brow. But you can’t help it. It’s not like your walks with Namjoon are something you enjoy. “I don’t like him, mom. You know that.”   “Then who do you like?”   You recoil. “No one.”   “You’re not a child anymore, Y/N. You’re already nineteen and you’re turnin’ twenty soon. And what happened to your friends? Sarah’s already gotten married and so did Irene.”   “That’s because they had no dreams,” you tell her. “They’ve always wanted a boring life.”   “Well, it’s time for you to grow up,” she huffs, holding you by the shoulders and looking at you one last time. “If you don’t want to get married, then move out and get a job.”   Heck no. You don’t want any of that.    The last thing you want is to be like Sarah or Irene who only knows how to gossip over tea and plan how many babies they’re gonna have. Or be like your parents. Your father’s a war veteran and always working long hours while your mother’s a homemaker — she’s so bored in the neighbourhood that she frets over every detail about you and drives herself nuts.   You don’t know when it became like this but all the adults are so utterly boring.   It seems like everyone’s grown up to live a monotonous life in the suburbs and you refuse to follow.   “Y/N?”    Your train of thought comes to a crashing halt by a tall dark-haired gentleman with rounded glasses. Namjoon’s always been polite and well-mannered but his talking can get you fast asleep. “Are you okay?”   “I’m fine. Thanks.” You muster a smile, looking away from the kids crowding around the trees and climbing them, giggling, hooting and hollering at each other.   As Namjoon walks past them, he shakes his head in disapproval. “They’re so noisy.”   “When was the last time you climbed a tree?” you suddenly ask.   “I never really did. I always preferred to build train sets and reading.”   Immediately, your eyes light up. “Reading?”   “Encyclopedias.”   Your eyes dim just as quick. “Oh.”   //   The pastel mint that’s engulfed the dining room — walls, chairs, tablecloth — is washed out, especially with the dim yellow ceiling lamp hanging over the rectangular table. But you don’t comment when the pastel pink kitchen looks much worse. Your parents’ decorating choices have always been questionable to you.   “I heard Namjoon came by,” your father says at dinner. “How was it?”   “Same as always.”    It goes silent. The air is awkward and your mother clears her throat noisily. The mashed potatoes taste bland on your palette.   “You know, he came by the other day to have a chat with me. It seems like he’s quite serious.”   You have an inkling of what your father’s trying to get at and you put your fork down, allowing it to clank against your dinner plate. “Namjoon’s terribly dull.”   “He’s a respectable businessman,” your father asserts.    Your mother agrees and chimes, “Namjoon isn’t boorish.”   “He has no life in him,” you retort back. “Watching paint dry is more fun.”   Your father’s brow jumps and he raises his voice, “He will be a fantastic family man.”   “He has a great background, dear,” your mother offers in a softer tone.   You abruptly stand, chair legs squeaking against the linoleum, not wanting to hear anymore of their reasons. No matter what you say, they have hundreds of defenses. No one’s actually listening to you. They don’t understand!   “I won’t marry him, never ever. I won’t get a job either! I hated working as a secretary!”   “Sit down, Y/N,” your father deadpans, looking back at his dinner plate as if you’re just a dog barking. You don’t faze him whatsoever. “You’re not a child who can throw a temper tantrum anymore.”   “I am a child!”   “You’re nineteen,” he reprimands. “It’s time to grow. up.”   “Ugh!” You whirl around and stomp up the stairs, abandoning your dinner on the table. Your mom calls after you, demanding to know where you’re going, but you get to your room, slam the door shut and lock it.   You dive into your bed, face flat into your pillow.   A moment later, you hear a knock but when you don’t respond, the steps fade away.   It’s always like this. You don’t know why so many kids want to grow up quickly to be adults when there’s nothing fun about it whatsoever. You don’t want to marry Namjoon. You don’t want to be a housewife for the rest of your life. You don’t want to work for someone else either.   You just want to be free — is that so much to ask?   All you want is to read, to go on an adventure, to escape to somewhere else, be someone else.   You move your face to the side and out of the pillow to finally breathe and your eyes incidentally stray out your windows. It’s a starry night tonight, pinpricks of milky light glittering over the dark horizon. You find yourself standing up and walking over to open the latch. Immediately, fresh air whisks inside your suffocating room and you inhale a deep breath.   You lean on the window sill with your arms, pupils flickering up to the bright North Star in the sky.   It’s silly and naive, but with how dismayed you are, you shut your eyes and wish upon that glimmering star. You wish that someone could take you away from here. Far, far away. To a place where there won’t be any expectations for you. A place where you won’t have to work. Where you won’t have to marry Namjoon.   A place where your dreams could be granted.   But not for a second do you expect for your wish to actually come true.   You become sleepy while resting at the sill, lids heavy as you begin to drift off. But then, there’s a tickle at your nose and a light tap of your shoulder.    “Mama….stop it,” you groan, “I’ll talk to you later…”   Yet, there’s a harder tap and a deeper voice— “Hello?”   Your eyes shoot open at the unfamiliar timbre and your eyes narrow in on a man-boy floating in front of you. Dark hair. Twinkling irises. A mischievous smile. You stumble back on your butt and scream.   No one hears you, not your parents who are heavy sleepers or the noisy neighbours who somehow have taken a day off from snooping around. So, you’re left alone to face the stranger who’s seemingly not standing on anything. He’s just outside your bedroom window, floating mid-air.   “W-Who are you?!”   You have to blink thrice to make sure you’re really seeing turquoise fairy-like wings.   “Name’s Seokjin.” A sparkly red vest with golden trousers and a blue hat with a green feather on the side — he looks like he’s come straight out of one of your storybooks. “But you can call me Jin.”   “What are you doing here?” your words stutter out.   “I heard a wish being made and came to grant it.”   Jin floats down and steps onto your window ledge, peering curiously inside your room.    “It’s quite pink,” he notes and the corners of his mouth upturn into a perfectly rounded smile. “I’m guessing that’s your favourite colour.”   Without warning, the stranger comes in. An uninvited guest who’s all too meddlesome with the trinkets on top of your dresser. Your eyes bulge, brought speechless in the meanwhile. You wouldn’t know how to explain if your parents were to come in and see this stranger walking around your room.   You don’t even know if he’s a man or a boy in the first place. It’s almost like he’s both — one second, he looks young and the next, he looks to be around your age. But one thing’s certain. He’s tall, height overcoming yours, and he has light blue translucent wings on his back.   “What are you?”   The question stumbles out without much thought and you realize a little too late once it’s said.   He whirls around with a frown and lolls his head to the side. “I’m a human.”   “How does a human have wings?!”   He laughs, a bubbling sound emitting from his mouth, and he looks behind him. “Oh this? It’s magic. I guess that kind of makes me a fairy.”   You wonder if by fairy, it’s the fairies in the books you’ve read and you wonder what exactly he means by magic. More importantly, you wonder if this is all a dream in the first place.   Jin holds out his hand, palm lifted upwards and after a beat of hesitation, you take it. He helps you stand up on your feet again and smiles. “What’s your name?”   “It’s Y/N.”   “That’s a nice name. Okay, let’s go.”   “Excuse me?” You blink hard, questioning if he’s even from this world. “Go where?”   “Foreverland, silly.” Jin smiles, plump lips pulled, cheeks puffed out like loaves of bread, brown irises twinkling. “Don’t you want to escape from here? Go on an adventure? Come on!”   He takes your hand, leading you to the window, but your steps are slow. “Where’s Foreverland?”   “Boy, you ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” He looks back at you with a boyish grin. “Just come see for yourself.”   You wonder if this is a dream. If it is, then there’s no point in staying in your room.   So you simply nod and his smile widens.   Jin gets onto the window ledge and pulls you up with him. But before he can go any further, you blurt out, “Wait!” And he promptly halts, looking at you to see if there’s anything wrong. “D-Do I need to bring anything with me?”   He laughs at your question.    “No.”   Then, before you can even blink, Jin jumps. With your hands held, you fall out the window after him and scream at the top of your lungs. Yet, there’s no fall in the pit of your stomach. There isn’t a rush, the wind tearing through your hair, or the impending splat on the ground.   You peel open your eyes to discover Jin carrying you. An arm around your back and the other behind your knees. Immediately, you loop your arms around his neck and find your house becoming smaller and smaller as he flies away.   “Did you really think I was just going to let you fall?” the strange boy asks with a cheeky smile.   “You should’ve warned me,” you murmur, not putting up much of a fight or complaining when you were too busy looking at the view. You were flying over the entire city, watching the way the lights of the buildings glimmer into a mosaic of colours, your house now a mere dot in the distance.    It’s a breathtaking sight, reminding you of stars in the distance. Except they were the buildings you entered on afternoon shopping trips with your mother or streets you biked through. You could see the diner and the record shop and even the drive-in theater!   Jin smiles as he looks at you. “If you’re impressed now, wait till we get to Foreverland.”   You turn your attention to him, eyes running from his lashes to the slope of his nose and the dip of his cupid’s bow. The breeze makes your cheeks warm and you take the opportunity to pinch yourself on the arm.   It hurts, which only means one thing. This isn’t a dream.   “How are you doing this?!”   “I said it before!” he exclaims in a pitched voice. “Magic!”   It can’t be real. But at the exact same time, it is.   And with that realization, you start hollering at the top of your lungs, momentarily startling the boy carrying you. “I can’t believe this is happening! This is amazing!”    Jin grins. “I know!”   You cheer as if you’re on top of the highest mountain, as if you’re facing the endless ocean and screaming your name, as if the entire world could hear the howls coming from the pit of your stomach. Exhilaration bleeds through your veins and you laugh aloud, finally feeling alive.   Instead of feeling fearful, cautious, or burdened with an apprehension you know anyone in your position would have, you’re elated. For the first time, you were finally going on an adventure.   The two of you fly a bit more, soaring beyond the wispy clouds and blue oceans, until the golden sun starts to rise over the horizon. As soothing as it is, to where you could fall asleep, you make sure to keep your eyes open to catch it all. And soon enough, Jin’s swooping downwards towards an oblong-shaped island in the middle of nowhere.   “Welcome to Foreverland.”   A sandy beach, an open field, a forest nearby. Jin lands and sets you down onto your feet. The grass is pliant beneath your toes and you look around with your lips parted.   “What is this place?”   “Anything you want it to be,” he says. “Foreverland grants magic, so anyone can escape to it. Here, you can make your dreams come true. Anything in your imagination can be real.”    If what he’s telling you is true, then the possibilities are limitless. But you don’t know what to do, where to start.   “Where do you live?”   “In that treehouse.” Jin points a few paces away to where the forest and the meadow meet. You see an enormous tree that looks centuries old with winding branches that act as a staircase and a tiny fort fit at the top. Cute windows, warm lighting spilling from inside and a string of bulbs wrapped around the green foliage make up his cozy home and you’re put in awe.   “There’s magic all around us,” Jin says with a small smile after watching your reaction. “You can do whatever you want. Try it.”   “How?”   “Just imagine whatever you want!”   It sounds too easy, but even though you’re not quite sure what you want to do, you shut your eyes anyway. Somehow, your mind strays to how you always wanted to be a princess when you were younger and then to the castle dollhouse your aunt got you for your sixth birthday.    Lilac walls, three towers, trim wrapped in pink, a brown gate, teal roof, the ribbon flag.   And then you open your eyes again.   A gasp befalls your lips. The castle you used to play with as a child is built right in front of you, manifested from thin air right to the last detail from your memory. The flourishing bed of flowers and winding cobblestone path welcomes you inside as the castle’s majestic ruler.   “Looks like you have a natural talent for this,” Jin laughs with an enormous grin.   “This is incredible!” You don’t know what you want to do first. If you want to run inside the castle and look into all the rooms, if you want to fall back on the meadow floor and imagine pools of chocolate, or if you want to feel that buzz of magic again, those vibrations in the air that still tingle on your skin. “Why aren’t there more people here?”   “There’s a lot of visitors, but no one stays for long,” Jin says, his expression unrecognizable in the split-second that it changes. He smiles again before you can decipher it. “But you can stay here for as long as you’d like.”   You decide that you want to go inside the castle first.   You run around the halls, up and down the stairs, flinging bedroom doors open and sprinting across the massive ballroom with the hanging chandelier. There are three levels in total, ten rooms, a dining hall and the top of the highest tower gives you the best view of the forest and the mountains in the back.   Jin follows you in the meanwhile, infected by your excitement and answering the numerous questions you have. He seems happy to share Foreverland with you, and your mind’s already racing with countless ideas of what to do, build and create. Or at least until your stomach grumbles.   “Hungry?”   You sheepishly smile. “I guess.”   Jin grins as if it’s a problem easily solvable, but you’re not sure what he has in mind when he leads you through the thicket of the forest. It’s an uphill climb, the lush canopies letting through the rays of sparkling morning light while the chickadees and blue jays chirp, wings fluttering overhead.   The tree trunks eventually open up to a cleared riverside with enormous rocks scattered around.   But what takes your attention is the long, white table and rounded chairs all around. There’s cake stands filled with buttered pastries, frosted cakes, teacups and teapots discarded and a radio on top of a rock.   “What is this?”   “It’s where we have our tea parties,” Jin informs with a smile as he pulls out a chair for you and you plop down with a fork materializing in your hand.   Instantaneously, magic thumps the air and the teapots start to dance. Fuzzy folk music plays from the static radio. And the appliances start to swirl to the cheery rhythm, tilting back and forth as teacups start to levitate in front of you. It’s like something straight out of a book and you laugh as you watch them.   The teapot pours a cupful until it spills over and you quickly take it.   “Thank you very much.”   It’s the best earl grey tea you’ve ever had and your eyes widen before you’re sipping it again. If possible, the teapot seems to blush and pours you another cup.   “Have some cake,” Jin suggests, sitting on the other side and watching you with a grin. The fork flies out of your hand to cut into the slice and the silver utensil feeds you itself. The sweetness explodes on your tongue.   “This is amazing, Jin!” You’ve never been allowed to eat so many sweets, not when your mother was constantly nagging and telling you to watch your weight. But there’s no one here to tell you otherwise, so you fill your stomach until it aches. The plates and utensils also settle down after they accidentally dribble frosting on Jin’s hair, much to the boy’s dismay.   The tea party concludes after you’ve had your full and you bid them goodbye.   “Did you like it?” The both of you are strolling back into the forest, Jin matching your steps.   “Did I ever!” You laugh. “It was spectacular. Foreverland is spectacular!”   “I’m glad.” He smiles to himself at the same time your eyes stray over to a majestic tree sitting in the middle of the magical forest. Large trunk, enormous branches, your steps speed towards it.   Jin’s brow raises but he follows after you, watching you hoist yourself up on the first branch.   “You gotta be able to see all of Foreverland up here.”   The boy’s amused and his wings start fluttering. “I could always fly you up if you want.”   “That’s cheating,” you argue, grappling with another before pulling yourself up. “My dad’s always told me that the effort makes the result sweeter. Plus, there’s nothing quite like climbing trees. You should try it.”   Jin observes the way you’re already sweating and out of breath, and opts not to. “I’ll stick to flying.”   “Suit yourself.” You dust your hands before jumping to grab another branch.    You can tell Jin’s impressed at how you’re maneuvered yourself but it’s all thanks to your childhood in the countryside. This is nothing. And in just a few minutes, you’ve made it to the top of the ginormous tree, overlooking the entirety of Foreverland. Jin’s wings stop flitting as he sits down on the branch beside you and you both soak in the scenery.   The wind tears through your hair and you’re left breathless, gazing upon the painting-like island. You can spot his treehouse from afar, the castle you’ve built, and the beaches near where you first landed. The greenery and blue horizon seems to stretch on for miles, and it’s all laid out in front of you for your eyes only.    You don’t notice how Seokjin’s turned his head to look at you.   “This is so unbelievable,” you exhale.   None of you see the green leaf beside you that withers away.   “I’m glad you love it so much.” Jin smiles. “You can stay for as long as you’d like.”   The sun is hanging high in the sky, signaling it’s already afternoon and you realize that in your excitement, you haven’t had a wink of sleep. Up here, it’s quickly catching up to you. You’re too comfortable against the tree trunk, unable to stifle your yawns, and your lids become heavier.    The second time Jin glances at you, he finds your head bobbing and he smiles.   He carries you back to your castle, through the window into one of the rooms and he places you on the soft bed. In your deep slumber, you hear a soft voice— “Sleep tight, princess.” — and for some reason, you rest easy.   //   In your dreams, there’s a man-boy with wings wearing a ridiculous outfit, red vest and golden trousers with a blue hat and a feather on it. But somehow, he seems to sparkle and so does the place he takes you to. Magic thrums the air, vibrating on your skin and anything you wish for can be real. It’s a fantasy world straight out of the many storybooks you’ve held tightly onto….   In your dreams, you want to stay forev—   FWOOP.   There’s a deafening noise in your ear. A violent rush of wind smacking your face. You open your eyes with a shriek already tearing from your raw throat.   Onyx eyes sit high on the creature’s narrow skull and they stare into yours, mere inches away. There are horns on top of its head, body crimson and scaly with a row of larger scales running down its spine. Its black talons are sharp, gripping against the edges of the shattered shingles.   Dragon.   It’s a colossal dragon. And it’s ripped off the roof of your castle.   The creature’s shadow looms over you and every exhale from its nostrils whisks your hair back.   This isn’t a dream. It isn’t. “Jin!”    You scream at the top of your lungs, scurrying back in a cold sweat, blood curdling at the back of your throat. “Jin! Jin!” There’s only one person who can rescue you— “Seokjin!”   The dragon leans down and it nabs the hem of your white nightgown with its pointed teeth. You’re immediately lifted into the air with another screech violently ripping through your vocal cords. The dragon’s wings flap aggressively and you’re practically dangling diagonally in mid-air.   Oh shit. Shit!   In the midst of your panic, you scramble for a way to save yourself and then you remember. This is Foreverland. Anything you want can become a reality. You can grant any wish you desire.   So with that in mind, you quickly think of a witch’s broomstick. Something you can easily fly away on. And just like that, it manifests itself beside you, parking next to your dangling body.   A smile stretches into your features and your arm lifts to—   The dragon bats it away. As swiftly as it appears, the broom is being flung downwards.    The creature increases its speed, beginning to circle the island and you resort back to screaming— “Jin!”    You’re shivering as the dragon soars through wispy clouds, heading towards the mountains past the forest. When the creature starts to sweep downwards, your shrieks only increase in volume and pitch.   Then, the dragon drops you.   You’re flailing for ten seconds, mind-blank, the pit of your stomach falling up into your throat, your screams becoming soundless. But before you slam into the ground, your body is plunged into light green.   It absorbs your speed. Cushions your landing.   And you open your eyes to figure out that you’ve been dropped into a humongous plate of jelly. Unable to breathe, you start eating your way out towards the light. Your hands shove backwards as if you’re digging yourself out of dirt and your mouth chomps down until you’ve broken free.    Gasping, you pull the rest of your limbs out of the green jelly and stumble to the ground.   The taste of green grapes linger on your tongue.   But more importantly, your attention is stolen by a figure standing on top of a gray rock. Ruby cape, golden crown lopsided on a black head of hair. The stranger suddenly turns around and you’re faced with a rabbit-like boy — doe eyes, a big nose, pouty lips.   “Welcome to Jelly Mountain.” His voice is smooth and he hops down to hover over you. “You’re my new hostage.”   Suddenly, there’s rope bounding your entire body.   You’re utterly confused and you realize you’re quivering uncontrollably. “W-Where’s Jin?”   The corner of the stranger’s mouth tugs.    “Seokjin?” He barks out into deep, sinister laughter. “Dead, of course.”   Blood drains from your face.   The turmoil slams into your frame. You burst out into tears.    The stranger goes completely silent, eyes widened as he watches sobs choke out of your chest and he flinches back. “Wait. A-Are you okay? Is everything alright?”   Dead. Jin’s dead. Devastation wrecks you entirely and you lose strength fighting, flopping over to weep into the ground. Just like that. He’s. Dead.   Your captor cautiously approaches you while you blink past your hazy vision, teardrops hanging off your lashes. And once he gets close enough, you lift your foot to kick him in the knee. Hard enough that you can hear a crack in his joint.   “Oof!”   The boy doubles over and you get to your knees, rage replacing grief. “Why would you kill Jin?!”   “Who killed me?” A familiar voice sounds overhead and you knock your head back to see a dignified silhouette standing at a higher cliff. Jin flies down in front of you and points a wooden sword at the king.   But the boy wheezes and lifts his palms up. “I give, I give.”   The ropes around you instantaneously vanish and the second it does, you rush upwards, launching yourself at Jin. Your arms open and your bodies collide against each other. He’s surprised and stumbles back before he smiles modestly. Jin pats your back as you mumble into his shoulder, “Oh god, a dragon took me from my bed and I thought you were dead for real and I was so scared.”   The wind ceases for a moment, the sky losing its blue vibrancy for a sheer second.   A soft laugh emits from Jin’s lips and after you let go and he whirls around to the other boy. “Look at what you did, Jungkook.”   Jungkook scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I was just kidding, I didn’t know you would take me so seriously. This is how we usually play.” He melts into a timid sort of smile and approaches you again to properly introduce himself. “I’m Jin’s imaginary friend.”   Before you can think too much, Jungkook eagerly shakes your hand. “I was really excited when I heard there was someone new in Foreverland.”   “Well, it’s nice to meet you too. But it’s very rude to take your dragon and steal me out of bed,” you huff out, almost sounding like your mother. At the same time, said dragon pops up from behind a rocky boulder with sad eyes and a whimpering noise.   You recoil and dart to hide behind Jin. But he laughs and steps aside. “It’s alright. Everyone’s friendly here.”   The dragon is clumsy as it tottles towards you and it bends over to dip its head down. You hesitate, but with Jin’s encouragement and his reassuring nod, your hand lifts and you pet its mound. You’re shocked to find the scaly texture softer than expected, though your caresses are cut short when it nudges you with a puff from its nose. The dragon’s tail is wagging.   You step away after a held breath, turning to glare at Jungkook and he ducks his head.   Jin laughs and takes your hand before another argument or fight can take place. “Are you hungry? Let’s go have some cake and tea.”   You allow him to lead the way and Jungkook strolls along with his arms folded comfortably behind his head. “I want earl grey!”   You’re not sure how imaginary friends work in Foreverland. But you don’t know how Jungkook is so life-like. If you were told he was someone like you and Jin, then you would believe it.   Jungkook readily drinks up all the tea until the teapots are tired of pouring. “Ugh, scones?!” He tosses the scones over his shoulder and indulges in cake just as much as Jin does.   There are still so many things about the power of Foreverland you have yet to learn.   “What do you want to do now?” Jin asks as the four of you tread through the meadow. It was a new day and a day full of endless possibilities.   You hum, considering it for a moment. “Have you ever read Jack and the Beanstalk?”   “What?”   A seed materializes in your hand and you lean down to plant it into the soft dirt. Both Jin and Jungkook have inquisitive expressions, but you simply step back and let magic do its work. It takes an anticipated second of bated breath held in throats. Then, there’s a splitting noise.   The ground shakes beneath your feet and a thick, green stalk blasts from the ground. It sprouts, twining and twirling upwards, growing past your eyes and the cotton clouds.   You turn around to Jin with a cheeky grin. “What are you waiting for?”   You start to climb the soft vines of the huge beanstalk, hoisting yourself upwards while Jin’s wings begin to flutter and he takes flight beside you. Jungkook, in the meanwhile, stays rooted to the ground and you look down at him, asking if he’s coming along.   “I’m fine,” he declines politely. “I’m not one for heights.”   “Alright.”   You continue onwards while Jungkook waves with the dragon beside him. Seokjin, on the other hand, is eager to see what’s awaiting him at the top.    “What is this?”   “It’s the beanstalk from Jack in the Beanstalk. You know, the story about the boy who traded in his cow for magical beans and it grew the next morning.” When Jin’s expression remains blank, you elaborate, “He fought the giant, took the goose that laid golden eggs and became rich. Have you never heard of it?!”   Jin merely shakes his head and you’re absolutely appalled.   “It’s a fairly famous fairy tale.”   “I was never allowed to read much of them,” he says passingly and notices how you’re starting to break into a sweat. “I can fly you up.”   “No.” As tiring as it is— “I love climbing.”   Within minutes, your fingertips can grasp the white clouds and your castle’s diminished into a mere smudge. You heave your body upwards with one last surge and collapse onto the clouds.    Foreverland has become the size of your thumb, surrounded in the abyss blue ocean. But you don’t look down for long when there’s so much to see around you. It’s just how you envisioned — a kingdom above the clouds, mist thin at the horizon, pastel blue overhead.    Jin lands on the plush surface and seems to be even more amazed than you are. He stares at the cotton clouds that stretch beyond the sky and after a beat, starts to jump. He bends his knees, springs upwards and bounces off the clouds.   “Look!” He laughs and you giggle, mimicking him. It’s soft beneath your feet, dipping when you land and pushing back as you hop from place to place. You twirl around when you capture air time while Jin seems to be having the time of his life, jumping as high as possible.   “This is so much fun!”   “What did I tell you?”   For once, you’re glad you can finally be the one to show him something new.   “I can jump higher than you can!”   “Not for long!”   But the bouncing session is cut short when you leap towards him and he drifts to the side in mid-air. Your heads bump into one another, skulls knocking — and you both fall back with groans and sharp inhales.   “Ouch!” — “Ugh!”   You pout, rubbing at your pulsating forehead while Jin’s cowered over and scratching his crown.    “Can’t you watch where you’re going?”   “It’s not my fault,” you retort. “I’m not the one with wings.”   He snorts and to get back at him for the injury already fading away, you collect an armful of the clouds. They remind you of the soap bubbles in a bubble bath, foamy and fluffy, and you fling it at Jin. The majority hits his face and some floats down on top of his head.    You burst out laughing at his wincing expression and how the clouds have clung to his hair and the area around his mouth like he has a beard. “You look like Santa Claus!”    “Oh, you’re gonna get it now.” He wipes his eyes and you giggle, staggering back to your feet to run. Jin regains his own footing and starts chasing you with an even bigger armful. “Get back here, coward!”   “Hey! No flying! That’s cheating!”   “We never made up any rules!” He grins as you struggle to run on the bouncy surface, restoring to leaping away. The pair of you are laughing incessantly until your stomach aches, but then you’re interrupted by a deafening roar.   Harsh wind swoops your figure back and you’re startled, falling onto your butt again. The red dragon soars past the clouds with its wings expanded. It circles over your head before landing a few steps away. Yet, instead of being frightened like earlier, you laugh this time.   Jin slows down and smiles. “The dragon’s name is Lady.”   “Lady?”   You look around from Jin to her, noticing how long her lashes are. She stares at you as if anticipating something.   “Sit,” you command on a hunch and surprisingly, she listens. Lady plops down on her behind and her tail begins to swing from side to side. You ease and step closer towards her. “Roll over!”   Lady rolls on top of the plush clouds.   Your thumb and forefinger shoot out. “Bang!”   Lady flops to her side as dead weight and you burst out laughing, coming up to pet her, scratching right under her chin. “Good girl. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you? Yes, you are!” She practically melts in your hand, nuzzling into your palm.   At the same time, Jin watches you with a softened smile. The horizon loses its bright hue.   //   “Have you ever heard of the Little Mermaid?”   “Tell me about it.”   “Well, it’s a story about a mermaid who falls in love with a prince she rescues. She trades her tail for legs in exchange for her voice to be with him. But he thinks someone else saved him and marries that girl instead.”   Jin’s brows are deeply furrowed, taken aback by the fairy tale. “Then what happened?”   “She’s given the choice of killing him to get her tail back, but in the end, she can’t do it. So she throws herself into the ocean and becomes sea foam.”   “That’s sad,” he says on an exhale, genuinely saddened by the story and you suppose the first time hearing it is always the most emotional.   But you agree with him. Part of you finds it hard to understand why someone would give up their family and home, but your friends always said love makes you do crazy things — whatever that’s supposed to mean.   Your hand tightens on Jin’s as the both of you swim deeper into the ocean’s trenches. The only way you’re able to breathe comfortably is through the water-breathing seaweed you thought of, and you were pleasantly surprised to find that something doesn’t need to exist in the real world to materialize in Foreverland.   The waters are perfectly still, a vivid cyan with the golden sunshine from above cascading through. It shimmers all around you and once the soft sand floor comes to view, so does the rocky towers and arches.   All from your imagination, you’ve constructed a whole water kingdom. Now, colourful schools of fish glide past you, anemone and seaweed practically wave, seahorses swim by and the corals decorating the structures are vibrant against the stony shades.   Jin smiles, swimming closer with you hand-in-hand so none of you can drift away. “I never thought about doing this.”   “Have you ever heard about Atlantis? It’s apparently a city underwater that’s sort of like this too. I read it in a book once.”   “You really like to read,” Jin muses and you nod.   “It’s the only time when I can be somewhere else without having to really be there.”   Jin stops at the center of the city’s square, surrounded by the many towers and buildings you’ve created in the middle of the sea. “You can make all those stories come true in Foreverland.”   As sincere as his words may be, they spur on your curiosity. “How long have you been in Foreverland for?”   “I don’t remember.” He looks to the distance. “A long, long time.”   Before you can dwell on what he says or decipher the expression on his face, you’re swept up by a school of rainbow fishes that tickle your skin. A giggle emits from your lips and air bubbles float upwards as the water sparkles around your frame. With the distraction, you don’t notice the way Seokjin’s gazing at you.   Or the way the sunshine shimmer dims.   //   It’s a busy day — from being woken up by a dragon quite literally stealing you out of bed, having a tea party, climbing a beanstalk to jump on bouncy clouds, and exploring an underwater kingdom, you and Jin are equally winded when night arrives.   So the pair of you opt to gaze at the stars instead of going on another adventure. You lay next to each other on the meadow floor. On top of a bed of soft grass with daisies surrounding you.   “Did you know the North Star always stays in the same spot?”   “Really?” Jin shifts his head, looking at your profile instead of the glimmering pinpricks of light. A daisy near him droops.   “All the constellations move except for that one. It’s pretty easy to see too. It’s right there.” You point upwards. “If you can find the Big Dipper, you can find the North Star.”   Jin smiles to himself as you chat about all the things you know. He’s always been the one showing others, guiding them around, teaching them about Foreverland. It’s nice to be the one who listens for a change. But eventually, he’s lulled by the sound of your voice and your own lids begin to droop before you’ve realized that you’ve dozed off.   It’s a bit later on that in your sleepy haze, you feel the brush of a blanket.    Jungkook sneaks by, draping the cotton over your forms before he lays down too with his arms behind his head. Lady, on the other hand, curls around your frame to further keep you warm.    And the four of you fall asleep like that, out in the open of the most magical place.   //   Time passes quickly in Foreverland. You suppose it’s like that when you’re busy having tea parties with Lady, Jungkook and Jin. When you’re going on adventures together. When you’re exploring the entire island. Telling each other stories. Manifesting all kinds of creations.   But every so often, your mind strays and you wonder what your family at home thinks.   You’ve been at Foreverland for more days than you can count on both your hands and you don’t want to leave. But you wonder if you should. You wonder if they’re worried. If they’re searching for you.   The last conversation you had with your parents was an argument. You didn’t mean to stomp off, to disappear completely. You just didn’t want to marry Namjoon, but it’s not right to end things that way.   And all of it weighs on your mind.   It lingers. Even when you’re laughing, giggling, having so much fun that you want to stay forever.   “Jin.”   “Hmm?”   “Should I go back?”   He turns to you abruptly, like he already knows the meaning of those four words, as if you don’t need to explain any further. And his brows furrow deeply, boyish visage ruined by the hurt.   “Why?”   “I….just don’t want my family to worry about me.” You fiddle with the long strands of grass spilling past the gaps of your fingers. “I’ve been here for a long time.”   “Time works differently here than it does where the others live,” he says and your eyes connect. “You don’t need to be worried that they’re worried. They’ll barely know you’re gone.”   It’s comforting to be assured by him, but it still doesn’t solve the unrest stowed in your heart.   It’s not right to abandon them. To leave your family behind. Even if they, themselves, don’t know—   “What do you want to do?” Jin suddenly asks, interrupting your thoughts with his gleaming irises.   You hum, tapping your chin.   He smiles. “Do you want to go on a pirate adventure again? Or go slay the giant.”   “I have a better idea.” A grin swells into your cheeks as a suggestion forms in your mind. “Have you ever heard of Cinderella?”    He shakes his head.   “Once upon a time, there was a girl named Cinderella born, and she grew up being mistreated by her stepmother and stepsisters. One day, there was a ball in the kingdom and everyone went, except for her. But then her fairy godmother came and gave her a beautiful dress. She went to the ball and danced with the prince.”   “There’s a lot of princes in these fairy tales,” Seokjin interjects and you laugh.   “Yes, there are.” You chide, “Don’t interrupt! I haven’t finished.”   “Sorry. Keep going.”   Night sets and stars paint across the sky like silver glitter spilled onto black paper. A full golden moon sits high up to accompany the stars. The weather is warm and the breeze caresses against your cheeks, a perfect cuddle against your form. The light from inside your splendid castle spills out on the horizon of the otherwise tranquil Foreverland.   “The spell wore off at midnight, so right before the clock struck the twelfth hour, the girl ran away and she only left a glass slipper behind. The prince tried to find her and once her foot fit the slipper, they got married and lived happily ever after.”   Jin hums, less amused than he was with the other fairy tales you told. “What do you want to do with this story?”   “Have a ball, of course! It would be a lot of fun.”   “I’m not really the dancing type.”   “Then I’ll just have to teach you!”   The rounded carriage pulls up to the stone steps of the castle and you get out, kitten heels hitting against the cobblestone. You’re a bit more clumsy walking in them than you expected, but Lady grunts happily and helps you up the stone stairs by nudging you with her head. You pet and praise her when you get to the top and her lashes flutter as she lays back down at the bottom.   You’re not one for dressing up when your mother’s always nagging and fretting over every single detail. But it’s fun to do it yourself and envision that you’re an actual princess of Foreverland. It feels like you’ve completed another one of your dreams — purple ball gown, flowers sewn into the skirt, sparkling tulle overwhelming, and a crown of daisies in your hair.   For once, you feel less like the tomboy climbing trees and more like a princess from a storybook.   “Welcome.” Jungkook smiles boyishly, dressed in his own costume. White shirt with ruffled sleeves, long blue coat, breeches and stockings — he looks silly, like he’s from two centuries ago, but you don’t laugh in case he gets embarrassed.    Tonight, Jungkook’s playing the role of the squire after all. And he stands near the entrance, happily allowing the grand doors to open. He grins before announcing your name, “Y/N!”   Once the crack of the door parts, your eyes fall directly to Jin in the center of the golden ballroom.   There are funny puppets you’ve made filling the room — paper figurines you used to cut out as a child now full size and flapping to the breeze, stumbling around as a poor excuse of dancing. They make you laugh, the sound traveling mellifluously above the violins and trumpets playing by themselves in the corner. It’s the good kind of classical music that adds to the elegant atmosphere.   But you don’t dwell, not when Jin holds out his hand and you walk to him before taking it.   You slide his one hand on the small of your waist while your hand is placed on his shoulder and you hold his other. Jin’s dressed in princely attire, black jacket with a golden sash across and dark trousers. His hair is pushed to the side, revealing his forehead and you muse how it makes him lean to the older side of his usual appearance.   “You’re very handsome,” you admit with a smile, realizing his shoulders are broader than you ever considered. “How do I look?”   “Pretty,” Jin exhales and the way he says it makes you embarrassed as well. You’ve never been complimented excessively in your lifetime, but enough times that they easily roll off your shoulders. Yet, somehow, with the way he’s staring at you, with the way the syllables stutter out of his lips, a single word you know that is genuinely spoken, you feel your face heating.   “Thank you.” You divert your eyes towards your shoes and guide him with your steps. “Step back once and then to the side. One, two, three. Like that. See? You got it already! Who said you couldn’t dance?”   Jin hums, naturally falling into a rhythm. He’s a fast learner.    “Do you feel like a princess now?”   A cheeky grin swells your cheeks. “I do with you around.”    “This is surprisingly fun.”   “Of course, it is.” Your eyes flicker to the chandelier hanging off of the rounded, high ceiling. Then to the polished marble floor that’s ornate with flowers and swirls. The entire room is a warm, yellow hue and it seems to sparkle. “The pictures of balls were always pretty in storybooks. I liked them as much as the adventure stories.”   As the music swells, Jin spins you around and you twirl across the floor with a hand held.    But as you land back into his arms, his left foot smashes on yours. “S-Sorry!”   Laughter bubbles out of you. “It’s okay.”   You look into Jin’s eyes, soaking in just how brown his irises are. They resemble the warmth of the sun, a cup of coffee your dad would brew on cold mornings. They’re deep and comforting. And for a mere moment, it feels like you’re just two people who met at a dance hall one magical evening — same-aged strangers who could’ve run into each other serendipitously.   “How old are you, Jin?”   “Whatever you want me to be.”   Suddenly, you realize your feet are not on the ground anymore. You’re levitating, floating mid-air, gliding upwards. Immediately, you gasp and grip Jin closer, pressing your body onto his.   He smiles tenderly.   “Jin!”   “It’s alright. Just trust me.”   The music crescendos as you dance while drifting around the ballroom in his arms. The skirt of your gown sweeps with you and magic thrums the air, vibrating on your skin. You feel enchanted, swept up in the moment, in his eyes and embrace.   The corner of Jin’s mouth tugs and a quiet giggle befalls your lips as he twirls you around again.   When the both of you become tired, you get back to the floor and stumble out onto the castle terrace laughing.   You’re still catching your breaths, his cheeks rosy and yours warm. The violins are muffled behind the glass doors.   “Look at the stars, Jin!” you tap his shoulder twice, pointing upwards to the boundless horizon.   You don’t notice how he’s turned to gaze at you. How his eyes have become tender. “I’m looking.”   You rest against the balcony railings with a quiet sigh. “We should’ve done this sooner.”   “We could always do it again.”   Your head swivels over and you’re caught off guard to see Seokjin staring at you intently, as if he has something to say but doesn’t quite know how to. Your breath hitches in your throat and you gaze back at him, eyes met, tension overwhelming. It’s a moment that reminds you of when you were younger, when you used to peek into the kitchen at night and see your mom and dad at the counter speaking in low tones — intimate. The word you were searching for: intimate.   Ding Dong. You snap back to your senses when the clock strikes midnight. The bell chime resonates through Foreverland and you grin.   “Guess that’s my cue to leave.”   Staying true to the tale of Cinderella, you slip away from his side.    Yet, you’re immediately pulled back. Seokjin takes your hand before you can fully walk away, cradling your palm gently in his. “Y/N,” he calls you quietly and you spin around. “Stay with me.”    You’re not sure why he has that expression on his face. Why he looks anxious. Why his wings become transparent.   “I’m joking,” you say with a smile to ease him. “I don’t need to run off at midnight like actual Cinderella.”    “No. I mean...stay with me in Foreverland.” A pause. His deep timbre is heartrending. “You don’t need to go back.”   “Jin.” You step closer to him, brows furrowed deep enough to hurt. You don’t know what to tell him. You don’t know how to utter the words that are restrained in your throat. “I have to go back eventually. I can’t just leave my family behind forever and I can always come back. It’s not like you’ll be alone anyhow. You have Jungkook—”   “You’re different,” he instantly blurts and you frown, not sure you quite understand.   “What do you mean?”   Jin opens his mouth but closes it a second later. “I’m not sure. You’re just...different.”   You’re utterly confused, but unable to dawdle on the subject when he smiles and squeezes your held hands, pulling you back into the ballroom. “Let’s dance some more.”   //   It’s seldom that you awake peacefully — without Lady ripping off the roof of your castle to pick you up by her teeth, without Jungkook bouncing on your bed and pretending he’s a knight in the middle of battle, or Seokjin trying to tickle you to consciousness to start the day of adventures.   But today, it’s quiet. Unusually so.   When you step out of your castle, you’re horrified to find the ground split. The land across Foreverland is cracked several inches wide and deep enough that all you see is darkness when you peek in. It’s as if there was an earthquake or a storm that caused an earth fissure.   The flowers have lost their colour — petals and leaves monochrome. The trees don’t sway. And when you look up at the sky, in between the azure horizon is a streak of the black galaxy.    It’s as if Foreverland itself is starting to crack.   Panic overcomes you.   “Jin! Jin!”   You run, avoiding the split of the ground, sprinting across the gray meadow and towards Jin’s treehouse on the edge of the forest. You call his name at the top of your lungs, alarmed and frightened at what’s happening. But the figure you see in the distance isn’t him.   It’s Jungkook and you’re relieved to find someone in reach.    “W-What’s going on?” you pant, catching your breath and slowing down. “Jungkook?”   The boy’s frowning, lips lopsided, eyes diverted from you.    He’s not panicking — he knows something.   “I’m…..I’m not allowed to tell you.”   “What? What is it?!”   He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, scratching the back of his neck, fidgeting on spot. He doesn’t utter a single word and anger swells inside of you. “Jungkook!”    The boy groans loudly and leans over to take your hand. “As long as you promise not to tell. I’m only doing this because you’re so special, okay?” Jungkook starts walking frantically towards the treehouse and you struggle to catch up to him.   “W-Where are you taking me?”   “You’ll see.”   The both of you climb the stairs of the treehouse and enter. You’ve come here enough times, glanced out the window, laid on the wooden framed bed, sat at the oak table, admired the strung lights and cozy atmosphere. But Jungkook comes to the bookcase on the back wall and pulls out the spine of a blue book.   You step back in surprise when it trembles and starts descending into the floor, revealing a concealed area. In moments, the top of the bookcase is snug against the floorboards like two seams never even there.   Jungkook looks back at you and you follow after him.   It’s a darkened space that consists of a downwards spiraling staircase and you begin to descend down. You figure that you’re inside the tree and that alone amazes you.   Jungkook materializes a lantern in hand to give luminescence and the two of you come to a wooden door at the bottom of the staircase. He hangs back and looks at you. “Open it.”   Your hand wraps around the golden knob and you push it open.   Wind sweeps through your hair, making you shut your eyes. But once it subsides and you look again, you’re met with a hidden room of secrets — a small space with towering piles of briefcases on desks and scattered across the floor. There’s metal filing cabinets, picture frames, books, soaring stacks of papers. It clutters the room, giving off a suffocating feeling.    You step in slowly. “What...is all this?”   “It’s where Jin stores away his subconscious,” Jungkook murmurs and you pick up a photo frame of Jin tensely standing next to what you suppose is his father — a stern-looking man who’s similar to his son but with more wrinkles. They’re both expressionless in the fuzzy photograph. “He comes from a long line of salesmen. His dad was a salesman and so was his grandfather and his great-grandfather.”   You set the picture down and look upon the heaps of briefcases, almost scared they’ll topple over you and smother you to death.   “If Jin talks about his reality, his creations will shatter, so he stowed everything away,” Jungkook says and you turn around to look at him. “You still have a connection to reality, so it doesn’t affect you as much, but the longer you stay here, the more you have to detach yourself from the real world.”   “How do you know all this? How...do you know Jin’s secrets?”   The boy smiles gingerly. “I’m not just Jin’s imaginary friend or best friend, Y/N. I’m his voice of reason and self-awareness. He stowed those parts away too, just in me, so he wouldn’t have to feel so sad all the time. You could say I’m the adult in him. Or at least, I have all the adult parts of him.”   “The adult parts of him?”   Jungkook nods. “Foreverland is a place for kids who don’t want to grow up. It grants magic so people can escape to it, but you can only stay if you retain your innocence. Or if you don’t regret it and choose to leave. Kids always end up growing up and choosing to leave, and Jin recognized that. So he decided to put away any part of himself that would ever grow to regret it.”   You wonder how many children came and went. How many stepped in Foreverland, spent their time here and chose to leave in the end in spite of everything he did to get them to stay. You wonder how many times Jin was left alone. Abandoned.   You wonder if that’s why he begged you to stay with him forever.   Your voice is a cracked whisper— “How long has he been in Foreverland for?”   “Time works differently in Foreverland, so I’m not sure how much it is in the real world.” Jungkook is as solemn as you are. “He’s probably been gone for a lot less. But he came here when he was your age and he’s been here for twenty eight years. Five of which he spent without anyone outside.”   You’re stunned, made speechless, trying to fathom that length of time.   “Twenty eight years?” More importantly, you don’t know why you feel so heartbroken. “What has he been doing in that time?”   “He’s been looking for a partner to stay in Foreverland with him for...forever.” Jungkook musters another smile and he shrugs with melancholy faded in his doe eyes. “The dream world Seokjin built is lonely by himself and I’m just an imaginary friend. I’m the only other person who can take a human shape. You can’t create humans in Foreverland — I was just already in his mind when he arrived here, so it worked.”   It’s a lot to understand, to wrap your mind around. All the secrets of this magical place are being spilled into your lap and you’re not sure what to do. All you’re certain about is that Jin’s stored away parts of himself, that he’s been deserted over and over again, and that he’s been yearning for someone permanent.   He’s been suffering.   “Y/N?”   “Then why is Foreverland breaking apart?” you quickly ask. “Is it because his subconscious is leaking back into him? Is it because of this room?!”   Jungkook smiles softly. “It’s because Seokjin’s falling in love with you.”   A beat. A pause.   Your heart swells up to the bottom of your throat and it aches.   “That’s what’s distorting his reality and everything he’s built in Foreverland. Falling in love means abandoning innocence since children can’t fall in love the same way adults can,” Jungkook murmurs. “It’s been happening for a while, Y/N. You just haven’t noticed. The flowers and leaves withering, the sky losing its colour, the breeze stopping, the sun becoming less bright…”   Jin’s falling in love with you?    He loves you?   You don’t know why that discovery has you so joyful and sorrowful at the same time. His emotions are reaching out for the part of him that he tucked away. Yet, at the same time, you’re the one ruining all of Seokjin’s dreams. You’re destroying everything he’s ever created.   “That’s not a bad thing,” Jungkook interrupts and your eyes meet his. “It’s not a bad thing to be in love, Y/N.”   “What...what will happen to you if Foreverland breaks?”   The corner of the boy’s mouth tugs timidly. “Don’t worry. Foreverland will always be a place and I’ll always exist here, even if Seokjin leaves and forgets about me.”   Jungkook takes your hand and guides you away from the room. “I think you deserve to hear all of this since you’re becoming someone important to Jin too. But you should keep it a secret or else he might throw me overboard during the next pirate game.”   “Jungkook.”   He turns around, simply smiling at you. The boy leads you up the stairs and seals the space with the bookcase again. You step out of the treehouse and knowing the secrets of Foreverland, everything looks different to you now.   It’s less like a paradise of infinite dreams. More like a fragile flower about to wither.   Jungkook comes beside you and waves his hand. He repairs Seokjin’s Foreverland.   The ground stitches back together, the sky painted blue again, the flowers becoming vibrant. But you know it’s just a temporary fix. Underlying the polished layer are cracks.   //   It’s never the same again. Tea parties, dragon rides, adventures and explorations of Foreverland — Seokjin doesn’t once notice the way the colour in his flowers are losing their hue or the way the branches of his treehouse are withering, losing leaves like it’s the autumn season.   Your naiveté has been casted away.   You can’t ignore it once you’ve seen it, can’t revert the enlightenment, and you can’t stay with him.   Not when it’s ruining the world he’s made. Not when he has no choice in the matter. Not when he’s not even aware that this is happening.   “Jin.”   He shifts to you.    The pair of you are sitting on the branch of the tallest tree in Foreverland again, reminiscent of the first time you came here. You climbed while he flew, and together, the both of you look out at the sun, sitting next to one another. And you savour this moment, knowing it’s the last.   Your breath is heavy in your lungs. “I’ve decided to go back.”   “Go back to where?”   “Home.”   “The castle?”   “No.” You can’t look at him. Your voice drops down to a quiet murmur, “Home where my family is.…..where my parents are. Home as in where you took me away from.”   Silence.   It threads through the spaces between your bodies that seems to be growing as the seconds pass. The weight of tension lies on your shoulders and a lump forms at the bottom of your throat, clogging the overwhelming emotions bubbling in the pit of your stomach.   You finally gather the courage to look at him and he utters a single word—   “When?”   “A-As soon as possible.”   “Why?”   You muster a small smile. “It looks like I can’t leave them behind after all. It’s...not your fault, Jin.”   For the first time and for one last moment, you reach out. Both you and Seokjin are looking forward towards the sky, but your hand hesitantly slips on top of his. A beat later, he turns your palm to lace his fingers through yours, squeezing your hand tightly.   “Do you really have to?” he asks.   “I do.”   “When will you be back?”   “I don’t think I will come back.” You swallow hard, eyes stinging painfully. “This is goodbye forever.”   Suddenly, Seokjin lets go of your hand and he launches himself forward, flying away. You stand up from the branch, stunned by his cold reaction. “Wait!” you scream after him. You don’t want this to be the last moment. You don’t want it to end like this. “Take me back! Jin—!”   In the midst of your panic, your foot slips. You lose balance and teeter backwards. It’s too late. A shriek tears from your throat as you fall. Stomach dropping. Eyes shut tight. But before you can conjure something up to save yourself or cushion the landing, the blow is softened by warm arms.   Your lids flutter open to find that Jin’s caught you. He’s carrying you with one arm behind your knees and the other around your back. You loop your arms around his neck, gasping for air and he swoops to the ground.   Jin sets you down on the soft grass. “We’ll leave tonight.”   His turquoise, translucent wings rapidly beat and he takes flight again. You watch his backside fade into the golden sunset until it’s a black silhouette too difficult to look at. And you know there’s not much of an hour left.   //   Never once had you dreaded when night came to Foreverland.    You always looked forward to the starry horizon, watching the constellations move overhead and laid in the grass with your close friends by your side. You liked to count the specks of glitter, admire the shine of the moon, allow the breeze to caress your cheeks. Yet, it feels bittersweet tonight.   You’re not sure if it’s because you yearn to stay in Foreverland. Or if it’s because you’re afraid of leaving the people behind.   The red dragon curls up to your frame and you smile while running your hand down her scaly muzzle. She whimpers, cuddling up to your touch. “I’ll miss you a lot, but you’ll be a good girl, right, Lady?”   She grunts and the sound of crunching grass beneath feet has you whirling around. Jungkook approaches with his arms behind his back and your smile widens. “So you’re going?”   “Uh-huh. Get in here, Kook.” You come over, opening your arms to hug him.   Jungkook squeezes you back and he mumbles in your ear, “Are you sure this is the right decision?”   “No.” You part from him, taking a good look at the boy who kidnapped you for a game, who led expeditions and adventures through Foreverland, who let you know the secrets of this magical place. “I wish I could be sure when I make a choice.”   The corner of Jungkook’s mouth curls. “Even adults are never sure.”   That alone comforts you, resonating inside your mind.   Seokjin arrives at that moment, flying towards you and landing smoothly. He doesn’t look you in the eye. “It’s time to leave.”    You nod and he carries you the same way he brought you to Foreverland, his arm placed around the back of your knees and the other behind your back while yours are looped around his neck. He lifts you up like you don’t weigh a feather and he soars into the sky.   You look down to see Jungkook waving with a boyish grin, Lady roaring out. You watch how your castle, the last traces of your time spent on the island, becomes a mere dot in the distance. The sandy beaches, open meadows, Seokjin’s treehouse, forest and mountains, they fade into the clouds. You blink back the tears that have accumulated, that threaten on your lash line and you look ahead to allow them to flow without Jin being able to see.   The two of you soar beyond the wispy clouds and blue oceans until the silver moon is high over the horizon. The wind brushes through your hair and you allow yourself to lean onto Seokjin’s chest, savouring the warmth of his embrace.   As soothing as it is, you focus on the view to subside your sobs. And it’s still a breathtaking sight, even when your vision is hazy by tears. Eventually, the pair of you fly over a familiar city, watching the way the lights of the buildings glimmer into a mosaic of colours.   Your house comes into sight.    Jin didn’t even need reminders of the direction, as if he memorized the house you came from.   “You can set me down in front of the house,” you mumble, hoping he can’t hear how clogged your voice is from silently crying the entire way.   He nods and descends swiftly. Jin sets you down on the grass and you hold onto him, hoping he won’t leave so soon, hoping you can have another moment. But you know this is goodbye.   This is it.   You turn to face him.   He’s the first one to say something. “Are you sure?”   You nod. “I’m sorry—”   “You shouldn’t be.” He slips your grip off of him and you flinch, hurt. But then he takes your hands in his and your eyes meet. “I won’t force anyone to stay with me if they don’t want to.”   No. It’s not like that! Yet the declaration lays on your tongue, threatening to spill, but never coming out. He has it wrong. It’s not like you don’t want to stay. But if you told him that, in the last seconds of your final farewell, what would he say? What would he ask you?   “I….I loved every second I spent with you, Jin! I—”   The lights inside the house suddenly flicker on and you whirl around, wondering if they woke up from your loud voices. You’re running out of time.   “Go inside,” Jin says gently with a wistful smile.    He lets go of you. About to take off.   But before the time runs out completely, before midnight has struck, you rush forward and plant a kiss on his cheek. It’s soft. Chaste. Your lips press against his rosy skin, hesitant and timid.   Jin’s stunned, eyes as big as saucer and he looks at you.    You muster a smile, trying your best not to cry and leave that as his last memory of you.   “Thank you.”   Before tears can spring from your eyes in the form of heavy April rain, you spin around and hurry to the door of your house. Your mother’s bad habit of leaving the door unlocked makes it easy to turn the knob and you step inside. But when temptation is at its highest, you peek over your shoulder.   But Jin’s already gone.   As quick as he came into your life.   “Oh Heavens to Betsy! Oh my goodness!” The cry of your mother gives no room for you to grieve. She stumbles down the stairs, unable to believe her eyes. “Harold! Y/N’s come home!”   Your mother scurries and even though she’s upset, she immediately embraces you with a fervour that has you shifting back. You can feel her entire frame shaking and you hug her back, pressing your face to her shoulder to dispel away the tears collecting in your eyes.   Your father comes at the commotion, slippers clunking on his feet down the stairs. Once you come into sight, he’s shocked frozen in his spot. “Y/N?”   Your mother lets go and you smile at your father. “I’m home.”   “Where did you go?”   “I thought you did something foolish,” your mother gripes. “You were gone for three days! I wanted to go down to the station but your dad decided to wait! I couldn’t sleep a wink at all—”   “Wait. I was gone for three days?” You’re taken aback. You were in Foreverland for three whole months. But you suppose Jungkook really wasn’t lying when he told you time works differently there. “I-I’m sorry. I was staying with a friend farther away. I should’ve said something before I left. I’m….sorry.”   “No.” Your dad shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”   In your entire life, your father’s never apologized to you. He’s not the kind to, always disciplining with a firm mindset, never to give any leeway. So you’re even more astounded.    “What for?”   “I’m sorry for forcing you to do things that you didn’t want to do. I was just worried. But I won’t push you to marry Namjoon if that’s not what you want.”   “He’s been doing a lot of thinking lately, sweetheart.” Your mother smiles, coming to his side.   You shake your head. “No, I understand. I’m just…..I’m just really happy to be home.”   Your mom’s brows furrow. “Then why are you crying, Y/N?”   You don’t realize you are until she says it. Until your hand lifts and you’re wiping at your wet cheeks. Then the sobs surge and you cry harder, choked whimpers spilling from your aching chest, your throat constricting your emotions. Your mom quickly comes to embrace you and you lean into her while looking past your hazy vision, out the kitchen window, to the starry sky above.

Memories of Foreverland begin to fade against your will as time goes on.   You wonder if it has anything to do with what Jungkook told you and how your connection to the place is weak. But you begin to forget the scent of the flower meadow, the taste of the special earl grey on your palate, the heat of the sun beating on your cheeks.   Then, it’s the feeling of loneliness when you climb the tree in the field to read while your mom looks on from the kitchen window. Sitting on the branch and gazing out at the view, you wonder why it feels so lonely when you’re used to doing it by yourself.   A haunting nostalgia lingers uncomfortably as well. Most often when you see kids doing play pretend on the streets, when you listen to their bubbling laughter, soak in their carefree nature.   After that, you begin to forget doe eyes, soft yet scaly texture against your hands, and dark hair. Twinkling irises. A mischievous smile. Brown eyes that resembled the warmth of the sun to you.   A rotten sense of discomfort overcomes your very being.    Like there was something you should’ve never forgotten. Like you’re missing something, or rather, someone. It’s a crazed desperation of yearning that aches your chest. And you can’t shake that pain off.   All you know is that you often wake up in the middle of the night with a tear-stained pillow and there’s the word Foreverland written on a page at your desk that you have no idea what it means, even when you know it’s your writing.   You slip inside the house quietly, dress ruined from tree climbing. You wonder if you’ll be scolded—   “...just looks so sad these days.” Instead, you overhear your mother’s voice coming from the kitchen. “Heavens, ever since she came back from her trip a week ago.”   “Did she ever say who she visited? Maybe that has something to do with it.”   “No, she hasn’t said a single word. Maybe she should go see a doctor, Harold. Our little girl’s not speaking much either and it’s startin’ to worry me. She’s not usually like this…”   You step into the pastel pink kitchen. They straighten their posture and seal their lips as if to pretend you weren’t the topic of discussion a moment ago and you muster a smile.    “Afternoon.” You go to pour a cup of the orange juice from the pitcher and pause. “Actually, I was just thinking about something.”   Your mother places down the kitchen towel, anticipation clear in her face. “What is it, dear?”   “Well…” You turn around, leaning against the counter. “I was thinking about everything, what I want to do from now on, how Irene and Sarah are, all my friends and all that, and I think it’s time for me to get married.”   They’re shocked.    Your mother’s mouth draws open while your father promptly puts down his newspaper, folding it back up.   “This...this is great news, honey!” A grin draws on your mother’s features and she comes to hug you. You’re nearly squeezed to death. “I can’t believe you’ve finally come around and changed your mind!”   But your father seems less enthused. “Are you sure?”   You nod. “Sure as I’ll ever be.”   You’re fairly certain the only way to shake off this painful discomfort is by moving on. It’s not like you want to worry your parents anymore either. Like they said, it’s time to be an adult.   And just like that, you’re thrusted forward quicker than you can imagine.   The next time you meet with Namjoon, he gets down on one knee and presents his grandmother’s gawky heirloom to you in a box. He ends up sliding it on your ring finger before you even get a chance to respond properly.   “How do you feel in this dress?” your mother asks.   One blink later, you’re placed in front of a mirror, drowning in a white, wedding dress.    The skirt is overwhelming your frame and it’s oddly tight around your midsection, making it hard to breathe. Not to mention, the sleeves are cut off awkwardly, not quite at your wrist or at your elbow. The lace sweetheart neckline is scratchy at your skin too, making you itch at it.   It’s ugly.   “It’s beautiful,” Irene squeals.   Sarah nods her head, pulling another tissue out to dab at her eyes. “You look gorgeous, Y/N. I think this is the one.”   You muster a smile.   Even if you go this far, for some reason, you don’t think you’ll ever forget about those brown eyes.

In the real world, it’s been days. In Foreverland, it’s been months.   Seokjin sits by himself in the meadow, downcast head and reddened eyes.   Foreverland is falling apart around him. The ground continues to splinter with each moment that passes, deepening the trenches that echo silence. The sky has split, no longer azure during the day or filled with stars during the night. It’s become blackened and every so often, pinpricks of light rain down and hit the land as if the stars themselves are falling.   There isn’t a breeze. The ocean does not move. The trees do not sway.   What hasn’t withered has lost their colour — flowers, petals, leaves monochrome like newspaper print. Jin’s own wings flicker between being tangible and a hallucination.   It’s as if Foreverland itself is crumbling and Jin makes no effort to save it.    What’s the point?   In the meanwhile, Jungkook sighs to himself, looking onward. He doesn’t think you ever expected that Seokjin would still be very much in love with you even after you’ve left and removed yourself from this place.   Jungkook approaches his best friend and sits himself down. “What’s wrong?”   Jin picks at the grass. “Nothing.”    The former holds back a snort, staring out at the horizon. “You know I always know how you feel, right?”   “It’s just Y/N,” Jin discloses in a half-hearted mumble. “It feels empty now that she’s gone.”   “A lot of people have left before.”   “It feels different this time.”   “You love her,” Jungkook says in a quiet yet firm voice. It isn’t a question, answer, or suggestion.    It’s factual.    Their eyes meet. It’s silent.   Seokjin’s Foreverland is collapsing, breaking apart at the seams — the treehouse, the flowers, the sky shattering into a darker, less star-full horizon. The proof is all around them and one that cannot be ignored any longer. It screams to be acknowledged, aches to be heard.   The corners of Jungkook’s mouth curl. “Go where you need to be, Seokjin. It’s a better place for newer dreams that you can fulfill. This isn’t where you should be anymore.”   “What about you?”   Jungkook’s boyish smile turns into a grin. “I’ll always be here. Plus, I’m right here too.” He pokes Jin’s chest, right where his heart should be and the latter scoffs with a soft smile. “I won’t miss you too much. We’ve already been together for so long.”   Jin exhales in exasperation and Jungkook leans back, putting more weight into his hands behind him. “Foreverland is a place for visitors. It’s not a place to make a home.”   “Then where’s home?”   Jungkook looks at the sky. “With the people you love most.”

The lace is itchy.    For some reason, scratching doesn’t seem to alleviate the itch, even when you’ve scratched enough to make your skin raw and your fingernails hurt. The dress is really white too. To the point where it’s blinding to your own eyes. You’re starting to think you should’ve gone for the other dress with the feathers even though it was fifteen pounds heavy.    Your mother shrieks and it nearly startles you to death. “Oh my goodness! My daughter’s never looked more beautiful! Now hurry along before we’re late!”   You nod, mustering a smile.   A part of you wonders if this is the right choice, but you remember someone told you that even adults are never sure of their own choices. You wonder who told you tha—   “Are you alright?” your dad interrupts your train of thought.   “Of course, I am.” You nod to reassure him and turn away before his perceptiveness can flourish the doubt that’s long overcome the discomfort that still lingers. You take his arm and inhale a deep breath to brace yourself.   The grand, wooden doors of the church hall open.   It parts and you’re allowed a peek inside. The hundred people seated on the brown benches turn around with smiles. The organ deafeningly plays the beginning discordant chords of the bridal march before it crescendos melodically and echos down into your eardrums. The bridesmaids and groomsmen grip their bouquet of flowers and begin filing down the aisle.   Oh my god. You can do this. You can do th—   “You can always walk away from this.” Your dad’s quiet voice breaks your inner mantra and your eyes find his wrinkled ones. He looks concerned, brows furrowed, lips lopsided and reading the look on your face. “I’m on your side until the end, sweetheart.”   The corner of your mouth pulls into a soft smile. “Thanks, dad.”   It’s your turn. The doors are wide open. The music beckons you to meet your destiny.   And you step inside the church hall. Namjoon is on the other end of the aisle, prim and proper in his traditional suit and bow tie, wearing an amiable smile that could only belong to a businessman. You try to match said expression, but it’s hard to feel your cheeks.   Everyone’s eyes are on you, some dabbing their cheeks with tissue. Irene and Sarah are on the side in their brown bridesmaid dresses, swooning at the sight. And your dad lets go all too soon.   Before you’ve even realized, you’ve made it to the end and he’s passed you to Namjoon, taking his place beside your already sobbing mother in the front rows. The music tapers off as well.   “Welcome, family, friends and loved ones. We gather here today to witness and celebrate the union of Namjoon and Y/N in marriage.”   Namjoon’s holding your gloved hands, his smile picture perfect. You face one another as the officiant drones on.   “Marriage is a joyous occasion. It is the promise between two people who love each other, and who trust in that love. It is truth, honesty, and hardships shouldered among a pair—”   It’s hard to focus when all you can think about is how itchy your lace dress is. And it’s everywhere. From the neckline to your armpits to where the sleeves end. It’s driving you crazy and you wish you could rip your hands away from Namjoon’s to scratch.   “—that are prepared to begin their new life together. Marriage is the most sacred unity in humanity—”   Christ. This is so boring. You can’t wait till this is over and done with. If J͠҉̛̀͏ì͢n̷͏̵͢͞ was here, he would’ve snapped his fingers and put the almost senile, croaking officiant into a pirate costume.   You smile to yourself at the idea, muffling a quiet snicker.   But then you freeze.   Wait. Who’s .̛̀҉̷̕.͠͠͡?   “—and should not be entered into lightly, but rather, reverently, lovingly, solemnly. Thus, if anyone has just cause to object to the forming of this union, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”   Suddenly, the doors bang open.   The doors crash against the church walls, startling you to death and nearly causing you to stumble back onto your butt and scream. Everyone instantly whips their head over with widened eyes.   A stranger interrupts, shouting from the pit of his stomach, “Wait!”   There’s a man, perhaps your age or a year or two older, standing at the end of the hall. Dark hair pushed to the side, revealing his forehead. Irises twinkling. And past the crowd, the shocked expressions, the scandalized whispers, the stranger looks right at you.   Namjoon immediately steps forward, covering your sights on the stranger. “Who are you?!” he bellows.   But you place your hand on Namjoon’s shoulder and he stops, looking back at you. You stagger forward with a frown, steps slow down the aisle. Your parents call for you, but you don’t hear them. Not when you’re so transfixed on this man. There’s something strangely…..familiar.   A tap on your shoulder. A boy outside your window.

       “Don’t you want to escape from here? Go on an adventure? Come on!” 

An island. Faraway. With a castle and a treehouse. A….flower field. A dragon. A doe-eyed companion.

       “There’s magic all around us.”

A beanstalk — an underwater kingdom — a magical ball.

       “Stay with me.”

The man gazes at you and you stare back at him, looking into his brown eyes that somehow resembles the warmth of the sun to you. Like a cup of coffee your dad would brew on cold mornings. They’re deep and comforting, and a murmur befalls your trembling lips, “Seokjin?”

Before your brain can catch up, you’re sprinting towards him.   Seokjin grins, plump lips pulled into a mischievous smile, cheeks puffed out like loaves of bread.   You launch yourself at him. Your arms open and your bodies collide against each other. He stumbles back with a laugh and embraces you tightly in his arms. You hug his broad shoulders, eyes fluttering closed, savouring the moment.   He doesn’t have his sparkly red vest, his golden pants, the blue hat with the green feather. Jin doesn’t have his wing either. There’s nothing remotely magical about him, not when he’s just in a plain, white dress shirt tucked into black trousers. But him being here is already the most magical thing that’s happened to you.   “I-I can’t believe it’s you. What are you doing here?”   “I had to come see you,” he murmurs. “I went to your house but no one was there. I heard from the neighbour you were getting married today.”   You pull apart from him, inches away from his face. “No. I mean what are you doing here, Jin?”   He doesn’t hesitate. There isn’t uncertainty in his expression. No moment to waver.   He’s as certain as the stars are real and answers within a beat—   “I love you.”   A fact you had known, that creeped up on you and made you feel bittersweet. But something you thought you would never have the chance to hear from his own lips.   You search his expression. “W-What about Foreverland?”   “It doesn’t matter where I am. I just want to be with you.”   You’re crying. You can feel the tears streaking down your cheeks and for once, it’s not from tender longing or a nostalgic sadness. A smile tugs on your lips and you pull him closer.   “What took you so long?”   Seokjin smiles against you. “I needed to get my things in order, but I’m here now and I’ll stay with you if you’ll take me.”   “Yes. Of course, I will, silly.”   You heartbeat pitter patters fervently in your chest and he leans down, brushing his soft lips against yours in a sweet kiss. Your arms come to loop around his neck while his palms cradle your waist. The warmth of Jin’s skin heats your cheeks and your lashes flutter shut while his eyes open just a little to watch you. He kisses you long enough that he can inhale your breath and you feel his smile against your own.   Your heart soars. Everything you had longed for is right here. And it feels like magic. 

[Epilogue]   Growing up and becoming an adult doesn’t mean needing to abandon fun — and your life with Seokjin proves it.    The pair of you go on plenty of adventures and explorations, more than your parents would like. You’re always packing your bags to discover something new. And when you visit, your parents are adamant that sometimes it feels like there are two children at the dinner table.    But you know they’ve never been happier to see how overjoyed you are and what a great fit Seokjin is. They assume he’s someone you met when you disappeared and while that’s technically true, you don’t add more to the story. They don’t question it either.   You’re sure your parents are a lot more worried when they see you teaching Jin how to climb the enormous tree out by the field.   The whole church fiasco ends up as a scandal. It’s the talk of the neighbourhood for months on end. It’s not like you particularly mind — although, you still get glares from Namjoon and his family when you run into them. You’re sure he doesn’t want to hear any more apologies from you, but you’re also certain that this experience will make him less boring as a person.   Your nose twitches.   You sniff the air and before it even registers, you groan.   “Jin! Why is there something burning?!”   You come into the kitchen and call him again, but silence answers. With a sigh, you check the oven and take out the cake that’s practically burnt to ash and push it onto the counter. The smoke is dispersed after you waft the air.   You’re already busy picking up after school children as a teacher, you don’t really need to pick up after your husband too when you get home.   You look out the door and step onto the porch. From a distance, you can see him and a hopeless smile slips onto your visage.   You cross the field, the meadow soft beneath your feet, wind whisking through your hair. The golden sun is sinking over the horizon, turning the sky into shades of tangerine and your figure a black silhouette against the light.   Seokjin’s seated beneath the canopy of the tree. The two covers of the storybook spread over his thighs, page corner crisp against his fingertips. The colours seem to jump out — raspberry, periwinkle and kelly vibrant against the white. He doesn’t notice you approaching, completely enthralled by the adventurous storyline.   While you were gone for three days, Seokjin was gone for two years. It was a mess to sort out with his family too, his father even stricter than yours and angered while his mother was devastated and resentful that her son had chosen to leave without a single word. It was hard for him to adjust to the real world as well. It took time. But you’d like to think Jin made it out okay.    “You left the cake burning in the oven.”   His attention is brought back and he looks up, smiling at you. “Sorry.”   Much to your dismay, Jin pulls you down and plants an affectionate kiss on your cheek.   You scoff lightly and unknowingly pout while your husband grins, already aware he’s gotten away with it.   You plop down next to him and lean your head to lay on his shoulder, staring at the pages of his storybook. “What are you doing?”   “I’m thinking of writing another storybook,” Jin hums. “A sequel to Jungkook’s Adventures. What do you think if I called it Foreverland?”   “I think it’ll be wonderful.”   The two of you share tender smiles, gazing at one another while the tree above you sways, leaves rustling to the warm breeze.   You don’t need magic to live in your dreams forever.

[remedialpotions]

The Forbidden Forest

For my friend @jamezbot 🤖 and his love of this particular, super-canonical, not-at-all-ridiculous ship.

I cannot emphasize this enough: this is a crack fic.

***

It was the clicking of Ron’s fingers in front of his face that finally snapped Harry back to reality.

“Mate,” said Ron, half-laughing as he sat back down on his bed, “what’s wrong with you? I’d say you look like you’ve seen a ghost, but that’s actually not all that strange around here-“

“No,” Harry interrupted. His voice felt hollow, detached from him somehow. “Definitely not a ghost.”

He still struggled to believe it - even after all of the bizarre things that had happened in his life - but what he had seen had been very, very real.

“Where’ve you been, anyway?” Ron swung his long legs over the side of his bed, feet flat on the stone floor. “It’s nearly midnight.”

“Erm-“ Harry gulped. “Just... out. With Ginny.”

A grimace flashed over Ron’s face, then he said, “then why’ve you got this look on your face? Did you ditch her?” he demanded. “I swear to Merlin, Harry, if you-“

“No! No, nothing like that.”

“All right, well then - oh fuck, it’s not Malfoy, is it?”

“No, no - all right, listen. Something - something happened,” he began. “But if I tell you, you’ve got to promise not to tell anyone else.”

“What, not even Hermione?”

“Fine, but just her.” Harry paused, eyes darting around the quiet dorm room. Neville’s garbled snores sounded from behind the closed curtains of one bed; Seamus and Dean’s beds were both empty. They’d both been out past curfew more and more lately. “So listen, Ginny and I were out on a, erm, a walk-“

Ron’s features twisted into disgust. “Ugh, come on, mate, I know what happens on these so-called walks-“

“That’s not the point! Just listen.”

“Harry,” Ginny laughed against his lips, her fingers curling in his hair, “we’re going to get caught-“

“So what?” Harry kissed her again. “What’re they gonna do? Expel us?”

“I know, but-“ Ginny glanced toward the greenhouse, where lantern light flickered behind the dingy glass. “Professor Sprout is still - mmm - still in there-“

Even as Harry couldn’t stop himself kissing her again, it did occur to him that he didn’t particularly relish being found in such a compromising state by anyone, let alone a teacher.

“Yeah, I reckon you’re right.”

Ginny grinned, her face still close to his. “I know.”

“I’ve got an idea, though. Come on.”

Ginny extracted herself from his lap, and they stood, then started off hand-in-hand across the school grounds. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, bathing everything in dusky blue light. All was quiet and calm; even the Whomping Willow could not be bothered to wave its branches at them as they passed, and Hagrid’s hut was completely dark.

“The forest?” said Ginny as they approached the row of trees that marked its perimeter. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, it’s perfect. No one ever goes in here.”

“You don’t think there’s a reason for that?”

“Can you get on with the story already?” interrupted Ron. “‘Cause I know I said I’m all right with it, and I am, but I don’t love hearing about you and my little sister looking for a place to get off-“

“And I don’t really love telling you about it,” replied Harry. “But if you’d just let me get to the point-“

“Sorry, sorry. Go on, then.”

“So where are the centaurs?” asked Ginny as they wound through the thick maze of trees.

“Way further in,” Harry assured her. “We don’t need to go that far.”

“And Grawp?”

“He won’t bother us.” Harry slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her close. “He likes Hermione best, anyway.”

Ginny’s laugh sounded through the quiet air. “Poor Ron’s always got competition.”

Harry chuckled and leaned over, intent on kissing her cheek, when the sound of a twig snapping caused Ginny to freeze in her arms.

“What was that?”

Harry shrugged. “Thestral, maybe?”

“Yeah, maybe.” She didn’t sound convinced.

“Here, let’s just go over-“ Harry’s words died in his throat, because now he wasn’t just hearing the sound of twigs snapping; deep, very human-sounding murmurs met their ears.

“Oh my God,” Ginny breathed. “It’s Dean and Seamus.”

“You think so?”

“Definitely.” Even in the low light, he could see her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Sounds like two blokes, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it actually does.”

“We’ve got to investigate,” said Ginny, her voice a low, excited whisper. “Please? We won’t let on that we’re there or anything, I just want to see-“

“You want to see your ex-boyfriend snogging his new boyfriend?”

Ginny nodded, gleeful. “Yeah, I do! Let’s go see. Please?”

Harry, admittedly, was curious - he had heard the rumors, he’d suspected, but he didn’t really know, not for certain - and anyway, it didn’t really matter what Ginny asked of him. He’d do it without a second thought.

And so they crept, careful to keep their footsteps light lest they make their presence known, in the direction of the voices. The thing was, the closer they got, the less it sounded like Dean or Seamus. There was no sign of Seamus’ Irish brogue, nor Dean’s London accent. And these voices didn’t sound like those of teenagers, either: they were timeworn and mature.

“‘M so glad ter be with yeh again,” came a gruff voice from within a particularly thick copse of trees. “Feels like it’s been ages.”

Harry’s stomach leapt into his throat - this was Hagrid.

“Merlin’s pants,” Ginny breathed. “Who do you think he’s with? Madame Maxime?”

But before Harry could answer, another voice - this one just as familiar and yet just as surprising - responded.

“I’ve missed you as well, Rubeus. I regret how little time we’ve been able to spend together lately.”

It was a voice Harry would have known on his death bed. It was one that had imparted wisdom and had comforted him in his darkest moments. One that had been a constant source of safety and stability in an increasingly uncertain world.

It was none other than Albus Dumbledore.

Next to him, Ginny positively quivered with excitement.

“We should go,” Harry muttered, trying to steer Ginny by the waist. “We shouldn’t be here-“

“Are you kidding?” Ginny hissed back. “We have to go see this.”

As she crept, catlike, through the forest, Harry had no choice but to follow in her footsteps.

“You’re fucking with me,” said Ron decisively. “And I mean, twenty points to Gryffindor for creativity, but-“

“I’m not,” Harry insisted. “I’m really, really not. When have I ever lied to you?”

“I don’t know, but maybe you’ve decided to start-“

“With this?!”

“I don’t know!” Ron threw his hands helplessly in the air. “Maybe Ginny’s put you up to it, to see what you can get me to believe-“

“She hasn’t. And anyway, the story’s not over.”

“Look!” Ginny pointed into the copse of trees, her face a mixture of shock and utter delight. “Oh my God, this is mad.”

Harry wasn’t sure what he expected to see, but it certainly wasn’t Dumbledore, in spangled, midnight-blue robes, leaning back against the trunk of a tree with Hagrid pressed closely against him. Their Care of Magical Creatures professor positively dwarfed their wizened Headmaster, but neither seemed to mind. Dumbledore, in fact, seemed to relish it as he entwined his long, wrinkled fingers in Hagrid’s bushy beard.

“Are we hallucinating?” asked Ginny. “We’ve got to be, right?”

“I don’t think I could hallucinate something like this.”

As they watched, rapt, Hagrid wrapped a massive hand around Dumbledore’s thin, knobby one. “It pains me ter see yeh hurting, Albus,” said Hagrid as he pressed a whiskery kiss to Dumbledore’s blackened fingers. “Are yeh sure it’s worth it?”

“It is for the greater good.” Dumbledore rose up on his toes, reaching toward Hagrid, and as their lips met, their beards brushed. “Soon, my love, it will all make sense.”

“My love,” Ron repeated weakly. “You’re sure you heard right?”

“Oh, quite.”

“So...” Ron raked his fingers through his hair. “So Hagrid and Dumbledore are-“

“Yeah.”

“D’you reckon they’re... er...” Ron gestured uncomfortably, waving his large hands awkwardly around. “Y’know-“ He laced his fingers together; his implication was clear.

“I didn’t exactly have a chance to ask,” Harry retorted.

“Well, yeah, I just - how would that work, exactly? Hagrid’s so much...” Words failing him, Ron resorted again to gesticulating wildly. “Er - bigger-”

“I don’t know!”

Harry’s sharp words rang out in the silence of the dorm, and they both froze as there came a rustling of sheets from Neville’s bed.

“Well,” said Ron, once Neville had resumed snoring, “makes sense when you think about it, doesn’t it? The way Hagrid’s always talked about him, I just thought he admired him - great wizard, and all that - but I s’pose it must be more.”

“Yeah, I s’pose it is.”

“But,” added Ron, pointing a finger at Harry in mock seriousness, “I really don’t want any more stories about you snogging my sister.”

“I don’t want to tell any more of them, so we’re good.”